Ali in ER shocker.

Things have been a little slack around these parts, and I for one, am the first to admit it. Take it on the chin as it were, well, it's only me who's to blame. I do, however have a fairly good excuse which at least covers me for the weekend, if not a little longer.

What? My hospital drama! Which you all know about anyway as of course, I took the opportunity to over dramatise and milk it for all it was worth (not that I wasn't VERY close to death as I can assure you, I was- about 5 more minutes of not breathing I'd have been a gonner.

Anyway, so it goes a little something like this...(why do I now feel like singing Run DMC).

9.40am

Friday morning Steve and I head to the Sussex County in good spirits. I'm not really nervous and am feeling very together about the impending procedure.

9.50am

Am sitting with a doctor who is drawing little pictures of the procedure and talking about cancer and the number of people who would develop it if left untreated. 1 in 5 over 10 years apparently (with the 'mild' changes they think I have- so next to nothing. I start to feel a little bit anxious and my tummy starts jingling and dancing with butterflies.

10.00am.

Flat on my back, legs a kimbo in stirrups. This position is rarely so distressing (minus the stirrups of course) Steve is strongly advised to sit by my head. Apparently, it's prettier. I guess that's debatable.

10.05am

Steve gets the giggles at the close up on the TV screen. I ask the nurse to turn it off NOW. NO I don't want to see thanks very much.

10.10am.

Excruciating pain, mutters of 'hi-grade' and 'mosaic' and other words which make me realise that perhaps this is a little more serious than they had anticipated. But still not that bad. Start to feel seriously queasy, start to cry and start to squeeze Steve's hand hard and look at him with pathetic big tearful eyes. This isn't in the park and why had I not realised- I HAD been told afterall.

10.15am

End of treatment. Topped off nicely by me screaming in a warbling manner. Nurse tells me perhaps I ought to not consider having children as I'm clearly not cut out for all this. The pain is getting worse and it's all finished..

10.20

La la land. I am having a lovely dream about my friends, they are all out at a party and they are shouting me to come over and have a drink. All of a sudden I'm sucked back to reality where I'm hooked up to oxygen and my legs are in the air and a team of 5 Doctors are peering at me, asking questions like 'do you suffer from epilepsy?' 'have you ever had a fit before?' I had passed out...5 minutes.

Tearful and shaken I look at Steve who looks pretty much the same....tearful and shaken. I realise that I've created the biggest scene ever and am humiliated.

10.50

I am wheeled out through reception and many aghast faces see me looking green and horrendous and very shifty. Bet they are all REALLY looking forward to their appointments now. I pray my room was soundproofed. I am taken to the recovery room and given a lecture about how I hadn't mentally prepared and force fed ginger nuts (for a change) and sweet tea. Told I will need more treatment but because I'm a total nancy I'll be given general anaesthetic next time so as not to create such a fuss.

11.45

Allowed to leave and do so gingerly.

13.00

Arse hits sofa and doesn't leave until I go to work on Monday am...

So there we have it. High drama and proof that I'd never be cut out to be a doctor, or a surrogate mother, or a parent of any kind.