Pain in the side

I went to see the doctor today and, no, before you ask, it had nothing to do with either of my feet.

On Saturday, after Sophie and Tom left, I noticed I had a rather excruciating pain in the side. I also had a bit of swelling. It felt like a stitch and the sort of thing I normally get from eating deep fried food. Or maybe popcorn. Because of that, I figured it would just go over night.

Sunday morning, it hadn’t gone and, actually, had escalated. It was very difficult bending over and coughing was a nightmare. Being a self-diagnosis fiend, I naturally went online to find out what was wrong. And the news wasn’t good.

All evidence suggested it was a problem with my gall bladder. I have no idea what a gall bladder does but it tends to kick up a bit of a stink when it encounters food it doesn’t like…a bit like Tom when he discovers he’s eating a vegetable.

While it was painful (particularly when I laid down on my right side) it was bearable and I figured I’d see what it was like on Monday and go to the doctor if necessary. Which I did.

Our doctor’s surgery has a new system. You can either book in to see a particular doctor at a time they’re free (usually about six weeks in the future) or you can book into a ‘free’ slot where you sit in the waiting room and wait for the next available doctor.

I don’t really care who I see when I go to the doctor because, firstly, all my records are on the screen in front of them and, secondly, because I’m generally just looking for a solution from anyone who graduated from Medical School. So, naturally, I booked into the 4:30 slot and sat in the waiting room, reading.

I finally saw a doctor I’ve never seen before. She was very kind and caring. Well, not so much when she was pushing on the swelling asking me if it hurt while I squeezed out a ‘YES’ through severely gritted teeth.

“It’s the ribs,” She finally concluded.
“Oh. Not the gall bladder?” I almost sounded disappointed.
“That’s what I thought at first,” She continued. “But, no, it’s a swelling of the muscles between your ribs. From some sort of heavy contact, I’d imagine.“
“Not popcorn?” I asked, fearful of the reply.
“No,” She laughed, “Not popcorn.“

So, a swollen intercostal from some strange, unfelt contact. Mirinda reckons it probably resulted from laughing too much at the film with Tom. It could be, except, while it had its moments, it wasn’t THAT funny.

Anyway, the nice doctor lady gave me some heavy duty anti-flammatory painkillers and I was out in about eight minutes.

I took one of the tablets with dinner (always with meals, Mum) as directed and, about an hour later, I already started feeling better.

Phew.