One Hell of a Day
Look at my lovely teeth
There have been some cracking days this summer. Yup, it has been a bit hot but I have really enjoyed getting dressed in just a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Like all good things there will be an end. I had a bit of a hiccup on Monday 9th July. It really was one hell of a day.
The week before I had visited the dentist complaining of toothache. “Oh dear” she said. “It looks like the tooth has got to be taken out. The root is split so I will feel happier if I send you to a specialist”.
“Okay” nonetheless this prognosis did not fill me with joy or happiness.
An exceedingly hot day
A week later I took the train down to Watford Junction station arriving at platform nine. The platform staff organised a ramp to help me get off the train. Once I was on the platform the attendant said “The lift from the platform isn’t working”.
I assured him The Trike only weighs 17 kg and he could carry it. If looks could kill… He muttered “I’m not insured to carry it. Supposing I fall. How will you get down the steps?”
I assured him I could manage and he grudgingly carried The Trike down the stairs.
I arrived for my midday appointment
The dentist gave me a local anesthetic but I do not enjoy injections, who does? Then he extracted the offending tooth. Even thinking about the whole process makes me feel slightly queasy. 45 minutes later I rode The Trike back to Watford Junction railway station. It was a 25 minute journey each way in the hot sun and no shade. Worst of all I forgot to wear a hat.
At least the lift at platform eight was working so no problems getting the train home. I got back to the house but my mouth felt sore, tender and still very numb. I did try to be busy and do things but it was completely hopeless. Once again I suffered the ‘good for nothing’ emotion.
I needed a haircut
Later that afternoon I went to the hairdressers. As I was coming out afterwards I suddenly felt lightheaded and unable walk. I put the back of my hand to my forehead and it felt ominously warm. I was definitely getting a touch of the dreaded Uhthoff’s syndrome.
Off to bed
When I arrived back at the house on The Trike I was definitely not feeling myself, my legs had a mind of their own. There was no connection between my feet and my brain, a strange feeling and really quite frightening. Thank goodness MrsB was at home. She pushed and prodded me up the stairs and helped me into bed.
One Hell of a Day
It is no fun while the problem lasts. In bed I summoned up the energy to listen to the radio but I know I nodded off halfway through the Archers The only cure for me is a good night’s sleep. The next morning I woke up bright as a button, refreshed and ready to go. Monday had been one hell of a day.
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July 2018
As ever, Pat, I share your pain – adding first how different I feel typing knowing the times you don’t answer are the system, not me, at fault.
Lift not working at the Hammersmith Underground station? Not a problem. “The one on the other platform is fine, just go to another station, switch sides and then come back”
London Underground sent us out to Richmond (check the map!) before we could switch. Even then we had to exit the station and re-enter to do it.
Back, finally, at Hammersmith, we paid for that exit when they cancelled our Oyster cards for “out of Zone travel” I was calmly, coldly furious and we were re-instated. In the end…
Hello David,
I know South West London well. I lived around that area for several years. Were the lifts at Earls Court not operational in those days ‘cos it is a long haul out to Richmond via Earls Court.
Well done for arguing, sometimes you need to point out the injustices