State of Alarm - day Sixty Seven

Saturday I wasn't feeling as good as I usually do in hot weather, with a slight headache, unusual for me. By lunchtime Sunday, after morning prayer and worship, I felt worse, so I went for a walk and felt worse still. I wondered if I was de-hydated and drank lots of water, but it made no difference. In the evening Solveig came over so we could walk along the coast path. I asked her if she could bring a thermometer and a blood pressure machine with her, so that I could check my vital signs, just in case I'm harbouring some wound related infection.

My temperature was slightly higher than normal, but my systolic pressure was higher than it was when I came home sick from Montreux the September before last. There was no alternative but to call for an ambulance, which appeared after an hour with a driver and a paramedic on board. I was pnly partly able to communicate in Spanish as my brain was scrambed, so I very grateful Solveig was there to translate. I was taken to the 'Urgencias' department of Can Misses hospital in Ibiza, and arrived about half past nine.

I was checked by a nurse, and thankfully my systolic pressure was dropping below danger level. I had to wait a while to see a doctor. There was one other patient in the ambulatory treatment room, sitting up on a chair, anchored to a drip, so it was quiet. The first doctor I was was a young woman who spoke far too fast and not very clearly, perhaps she was tired. She gave up trying and went to look for an English speaking doctor. He was also young and his English excellent, which meant that I was able to describe accurately what had been happening. He also examined my wound and found it to be in good condition, so unlikely to have picked up an infection. 

After a thoroughgoing conversation, his opinion was that my symptoms were those severe stress, due to the multiple traumas of changed flight bookings in the past week, plus the persistent effect of chronic low level pain from the wound, and not being able to sit and relax for any length of time. No medication needed, just rest, and herb teas, he suggested! 

As I've not been into Ibiza before and have no idea of where Can Misses hospital is, it felt surreal to step out on to the hospital concourse, a rather anonymous place, and no know how to recognise a taxi rank. I was advised however to ask the receptionist to call one for me which I did, and get back to the house just before midnight. I slept ten and a half hours, and think I'll have to spend the rest of today, lying on the bed doing as little as possible out of range of normal communications devices.

I got the medical examination and reassurance I needed, and could have done with when travel plans first fell apart. Sooner or later the impact of these uncontrollable events catch up on you, even if you're covid-19 free, and think you're doing OK. For the moment, the headache is a reminder that I'm not as good as I thought I was.