Weary...

In ways good or at least educational.

Had a heart test, the NHS's final guess as to why I had peculiar chest pains over the past few years. I have my solution; my guess is that it's a developed sensitivity to coffee because the pains have gone away since I stopped drinking it, but I went to the test because it seemed as well to be sure.

First canula then dye, then drugs to make my heart race; I reacted badly to the latter, hyperventilating and feeling nauseous. They were very kind, but I was suddenly irritated at the idea of my heart being treated like a wind-up toy, as though the medics were three little boys playing with it to see if it could break. Having had to sign a disclaimer in case of heart attack or angina caused by the drug, I stopped them at 130 beats a minute, thinking their work might create a twitch/break/ weakness that wasn't there before, like a clock that, momentarily broken, can be fixed but never goes back to being as efficient as it was. 'Get this stuff out of me now,' I said, and they did. Most of the effects were gone quickly. Despite not reaching 140 as they planned, the scans showed a normal healthy heart.I think the most normal healthy thing I did was tell them to stop doing it.

They looked after me with tea and biscuits, and wanted me to rest but all I wished for was to get away. The result was that I found myself wandering around the roads to Charlton, semi-stoned and exhausted. At least it was warm and sunny, and a bus turned up. The rest of the day was very pleasant, spending time with friends at the Natural History Museum, then entertaining at home, then taking them out the next day to the Imperial War Museum, etc, etc. It was grand to spend time with them, but I am very tired.

So much so that my writing is done for now, as is even my reading. Later, later.