A very curious weekend.

On Friday, a friend gave me a big bag of Revels and a big bag of Maltesers in return for picking their son and his sleepover stuff up after football practice on Saturday and depositing them at their house. The fact that I was doing the coaching and would need to drive within a few yards of their house on my way home didn’t seem to be a consideration, but despite protests from Mrs Blue, she went ahead and insisted on my having the love from chocolate. Jack was having his mate sleepover here on Friday night and I had a burger and southern-fried potatoes for tea with them (having consumed most of the Revels before helping Amy with her paper round as usual). I woke during the night in a lot of pain from my chest – it felt like I had pulled a muscle in my chest or back and so a fitful night ensued. I even popped a couple of Rennies in during the night which seemed to help a bit.

On Saturday night, I cooked a nice king prawn korma with cauliflower, peas and carrots in the curry, served with boiled rice and naan bread. Nothing too spicy. I was in bed well before midnight and was woken by a bad chest pain again around 1.00am ish. I got up and walked about before going back to bed and eventually managing to drift off. 3.30am and I was in serious pain. My left arm had gone cold as sometimes happens when my sleeve gets wrapped a bit tight around my shoulder. But it was the pain in my chest that was a bastard.

Now I know what you’re thinking. But I knew I wasn’t in pain in my shoulder or arm. No nausea. No sweating. Downstairs, our Big Family Book of Hypochondria had a handy flowchart. Sliding my finger across to the first box, it read “call an ambulance”. Pfft! I fired up my lappy and visited the NHS Direct web site. {Clickety-click} “Call an ambulance immediately.” Pfft! Rang them: “we’ll send an ambulance”. “No thanks,” quoth I, “can I speak to someone as I think it’s indigestion.” So I spoke to a triage nurse sort of person. Very helpful he was, even after I’d dismissed the option of … an ambulance. He suggested I tried sleeping sitting up as if it was caused by acid in my stomach, it’s best to allow gravity to help out. I should avoid Ibuprofen for the pain as that can irritate the stomach too. So I took another couple of Rennies and a couple of Paracetamol and sat down to sleep. Amazingly, I did snatch another two or three hours’s sleep.

Sunday morning and it’s a football match, so I headed up to the park to carry a couple of goalposts and erect them. Some shortness of breath but then they are aluminium and 3/4 size, so that’s not too surprising. Then I ran around for the next hour refereeing the game – end to end stuff, so lots of running for me. No problems at all. Then cooked some pasta and tomato for lunch and chicken and mushrooms in a mushroom sauce with tagliatelle for tea. Jane had bought some Gaviscon and fruit Rennies during the day, so before turning in I swigged 20ml of the Gaviscon – which smelled of peppermint but tasted of cheap Playdoh-substitute – and settled down. 1.30am and I’m up, chewing a couple of Rennies. Back to bed and awake at 7.00am this morning.

Today sees mithering from Jane about making an appointment to see the doctor. 12.50pm and I’m seeing the duty doctor. She looks aghast as I tell her about the ambulance refusals. Checks my blood pressure and history, then orders an ECG. So little squares are shaved out of my chest hair and legs and I’m wired up. All checks out normal, apparently. We go through everything else before she prescribes some PPIs (Lansoprazole). The NHS Direct says:

However, you need to consult your GP first if:

• You are 45 years or older with new or recently changed symptoms of indigestion.

Ah.

So anyway, we’ll see if they fix whatever’s broken. And amongst the side-effects for men is the possibility of breast growth. Result!