Diary of a Mountain Biker
Friday, 30 November 2007
So, following on from my last blog, I’m still ill. And I’m too fed up to rant now. It’s been a rubbish couple of days. Not least because I spent over an hour waiting to see the doctor again yesterday; for the third time in six weeks. Big deal you might think? But before this, I hadn’t been to see my GP once in 3 years!
I have nothing against doctors, I just personally don’t find them very useful as I have very little need for them. On the few occassions I have been to seem them over the years, they’ve mostly been rubbish – giving me the wrong information or the wrong diagnosis. Like the time I damaged the tendon in my shoulder joint and the doctor had me doing shoulder shrugs – my physios mouth dropped when I told him. Or the time I had mumps and it wasn’t spotted until the following week when 4 of my class mates got mumps! Other instances I won’t go into.
But it’s not just the good old NHS, it seems it’s the same across the Atlantic as well, no matter how much you pay.
Last September I flew to Colorado and a few days later I woke up one morning with a cramp-like feeling in my right leg. Fortunately, it didn’t totally cramp up. A few days later the area started to get quite solid, looked bruised and was really quite painful when walking. I popped in to see a friend who recommended a physio to see for a massage to work out what was probably a muscle knot. The physio refused to touch it when I told her I’d only flown in last week as it could possibly be DVT and I should go to hospital immediately!
So I went. And walked up to reception and told the receptionist I’d flown from the UK last week and the physio thinks it’s DVT and that I have a “pain in my right calf.” It was serious enough to be placed ahead of the guy with the foot and the woman with the finger.
A waiting room stint, a check over, some tests and an ultra-sound later, I was diagnosed with, wait for it… “right calf pain”…
Fast forward again to thursday, a different doctor to the first two times. She read my notes and I added that the bronchitis I’d been diagnosed with wasn’t getting any better, I had a back pain almost constantly and these last couple of days I’d been feeling quite dizzy. (I didn’t mention that I’d almost collapsed whilst brushing my teeth wednesday night, it’s not the most strenuous of tasks and, well, I have got an electric toothbrush…)
Again, more checks – she told me to breathe. I did that. And from that in depth investigation she came to the conclusion that I have, wait for it… “a cough”… But seeing as I’ve had a cough for so long now, I should probably take some time off work; and take some stronger drugs because the last lot didn’t do anything.
Labels: non-cycling, story
Sunday, 25 November 2007
Been a while…
So it was brought to my attention today (thanks Simon), that I’ve really not been posting too much. Three weeks since the last one to be precise. The sad thing is, it’s not because I’ve been busy or doing anything exciting – in fact, the exact opposite. Which is why I haven’t been posting, because I haven’t done anything interesting.
Truth of the matter is, I’ve been ill for a full six weeks now and to be honest, I’m getting really, really fed up with it. It started with a chest infection from Dusk til Dawn, evolved into flu, which then morphed into bronchitis. I’ve now cracked a rib, from coughing of all things! And it feels like I’ve got another cold coming on (though apparently bronchitis + cold symptoms = pneumonia in some cases. Gulp! I’m sure it’s not though… just cos it’s not… gulp!)
Yes, I could have ridden if I wanted to, but seeing as I practically cough up a lung every time I ride up the little hill from the train station, I thought it best not to. I’m pretty sure that’s what caused the cracked rib as well. And passers by look at me as if I’ve got the plague because I’m coughing so hard and so long. It’s not pretty I can tell you.
So that’s it. That’s what I’ve been doing all this time. Nothing. Nothing at all. How boring is that. I am getting grouchier though because I’m not riding my bike, so my rants are getting more colourful and my temper is getting shorter. So if this riding drought continues, I may have to post more ranting…
Public transport, don’t get me started!!
Labels: illness, non-cycling
Friday, 2 November 2007
The Cookie Story
It’s funny how the simplest of things remind you of the strangest of memories. On my way in to work this afternoon I decided to treat myself to a Millie’s Cookie from Euston Station. It’s been a long time since I bought one of these, but I certainly remember the last time I did and it always makes me smile.
About 7 years ago I moved down to London to start my first job at a small start-up television channel called whereits.at. The thing that struck me about London was how unfriendly it was and how nobody ever spoke to anyone or smiled or made eye contact. So, one night I was working down at our studio in the Trocadero shopping centre and a friend and I decided to treat ourselves to a cookie. As per usual I was bantering a bit with the cute guy behind the counter, trying to get a freebie, but he wasn’t having any of it and we paid and went on our way.
Later that night when the show had finished it was the custom for the crew to go to the pub and have rather a lot to drink – who was I to argue. The pub closed and I made my way to the tube station, passing the aforementioned Millie’s Cookies. The cute guy was cashing up for the night and a few random cookies lay under the counter so I tried my luck again. I’m not sure whether it was drunken charm or whether he just wanted to get rid of me, but minutes later I was merrily on my way with a bag of 8 free cookies! Result!
So there I was, midnight, stumbling through the London underground with a bag of cookies, passing unfriendly faces. What better opportunity to cheer a few people up than to share my delights with them! On my way up the escalator I politely asked the man in front of me if he’d like a cookie; “oh, er, well, yes, thank you” he said, slightly unnerved that a stranger had spoken to him, and even more puzzled by the fact it was a young lady offering him a cookie! At the top there was a smartly dressed woman, “excuse me, would you like a cookie?” I asked, “they were free and there’s too many here for me.”
“Oh, thank you very much” she said, and smiled.
Another grey haired man in a suit and two young Asian guys also partook of the free midnight snack.
I got on the train feeling rather satisfied and happy, and I hope everyone who took a cookie that night also went home a bit happier; and that maybe they recounted the story of the crazy midnight cookie girl to their friends the following day and made them smile as well.
And here I am, tucking into my cookie with a cup of coffee, smiling as much now as I did that night. I hope it’s brightened up your friday afternoon as much as it has mine. If not, buy a cookie on the way home, that’ll cheer you up.
Labels: non-cycling, story
posted by MTB Girl at 16:35 1 comments