Laying Low with Covid

From the Mighty Pen of Chutzpahdick

Having sailed through his first Covid infection back in December 2020, Chutzpahdick was not particularly concerned when he tested positive again early in January 2022. After being triple jabbed, and now an old hand due to his previous positive acquaintance with the virus, what could possibly go wrong?

Sadly, quite a lot!

Having notified all contacts over the required period, Chutzpahdick decided to suddenly pass out after standing up too soon. Not just a gradual, gentle but dignified faint slowly collapsing from chair to floor, but a dramatic fall forward with all the graceful elegance of a tree being felled. Fortunately Chutzpahdick had the presence of mind to use his nose to cushion the fall (racial stereotype joke deleted at this point – Ed). Chutzpahdick started to come round a few minutes later, aware of a nearby pool of blood, and to the sound of a worried Mrs Chutzpahdick on the phone to 999. ‘Is he breathing?’ asked the 999 operative. ‘Yes, I think so’ answered Mrs Chutzpahdick. That was a huge relief! ‘Turn him on his back’ said the operative, firmly ‘and an ambulance will arrive within an hour and a half’. It took two hours, a long time to be lying on a hard surface but lots of time to practice the recovery position. ‘Oh dear’ exclaimed a concerned ambulance crew, ‘nobody told us he was collapsed all this time’. Chutzpahdick and Mrs Chutzpahdick both felt their sense of discomfiture deeply.

After being stretchered out to the ambulance (first time ever), Chutzpahdick became aware of his impending journey which raised many questions. Would this be a one way trip only, never to see his beloved family again? And then there was Fauda. Because Chutzpahdick was currently seven episodes into series three and ‘our boys’ were deep into Gaza and deep in trouble with Hamas breathing down their necks and ‘our boys’ were worriedly calling each other ‘bruv’ all the time…all very gung ho….were they going to be rescued in time, with the mission fast turning into their usual spectacular disaster? (And – why go to dangerous Gaza when you can consistently have so many spectacular disasters so much nearer to home?). Anyway, the thought of never catching up with the last few episodes of Fauda was just too horrific to behold! But now, the blue light was going, and this was really serious Holby City stuff.

After being taken by the ambulance crew into the hospital, Chutzpahdick progressed to a cubicle stretcher where two hospital staff were jostling for pole position by the entrance waiting to be first to check Chutzpahdick for a suspicious ECG reading, first detected by the 999 crew. Possible ST elevation. Nobody but nobody wants ST elevation!! The first gentleman introduced himself as a cardiac technician nurse and the second in was a consultant who kindly offered Chutzpahdick a cup of tea. This was an extremely civilised gesture, but was possibly really a social gambit practised as a way of avoiding any tedious yet worrying talk of life threatening conditions. So British! Fortunately the dodgy ECG printout from the ambulance crew turned out to be an anomaly which was not (thank Hashem) the same thing as an arrhythmia. Relief all round! All that remained after all blood tests were back was an IV saline drip, IV dexamethasone (“just in case- you do have Covid”) and IV Co-Amoxiclav (antibiotic – “just in case – you might have any nasty opportunist bacterial infection”). That’s the trouble with opportunists, they have no humanity, no sense of propriety! The passing out ceremony at home had simply been due to dehydration and sudden drop in blood pressure.

With all test results finally back, all that remained was the prognosis: one slight fracture to the nose. “Don’t be too concerned” Mrs Chutzpahdick said later, “It could be quite fetching. A sort of new you. Forget the outpatient appointment at the nose fracture clinic. You might appreciate the change in the fullness of time”.

The quality of care at Southend Hospital had been first rate, and worth every minute of the five and a half hours banged up there.

Finally discharged, Chutzpahdick was reunited – not exactly into the arms of Mrs Chutzpahdick – but more arms - length. That’s Covid for you!

<TOP>