There’s An Elephant On My Chest…

Over the last few days I have had ‘an elephant on my chest’…

Truly…I have…

In the nostalgic glow of childhood illnesses, when I had to struggle to find the words to describe whatever the doctor was poking, prodding and pressing that bl**dy cold stethoscope to my childish frame about, the words ‘I think I have a chest infection doctor’ did not enter my precocious head. 

Instead it was more Dr Suess like – ‘there’s an elephant on my chest’ or another favourite ‘I’ve got swans’, a reference to the wheezy honking noise I emitted when breathing out. 

I still think these describe what it feels like far better than any of those high-falutin’ descriptions or attempts at self-diagnosis we try on as grown-ups, ostensibly to assure the doctor – that we fought hard to get an appointment with – that we really have it all under control…I mean come on, who are we kidding?

Anyhow, on Friday the nice lady doctor poked and prodded and put the bl**dy cold stethoscope against my not-so-childish frame and suggested that my case of flu had developed into a chest infection.  There were no needles or anything, just a script for me to take away and a reassuring ‘if you don’t feel any better in a couple of days, come back and we’ll reassess’ (oh great, another potential 8am scramble for the few ’emergency’ appointments held each day…joy!)

So off I went and got my pills and admittedly the elephant feels smaller…but there was one thing missing that I know would have made all the difference to my recovery…and in this era of NHS cost-cutting, I cannot believe they have been forsaken so easily…

Where was my jellybean?

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