A fondess for spicy sauce leads to a visit to A&E for Chris...
Chris Pascoe’s Fun Tales
Last week, I made one of my occasional trips to a hospital claiming I was having a heart attack.
Regular readers will know I’ve pulled this stunt before, astounding nurses by, despite honestly believing myself to be about to die (indigestion on that occasion), I didn’t call an ambulance and made my own way to the hospital in the middle of the night.
Neither did I bother waking my wife before leaving, so she awoke at 4am discovering I’d vanished. As one nurse diplomatically pointed out, “Man, you are all kinds of stupid today!”
This time round, I took things a step further, again suffering a level of indigestion that led everybody at the hospital to believe I was having a heart attack. I also claimed to feel incredibly woozy, resulting in me being hooked up to lots of machines and spending a day and night in three different wards.
The indigestion and nausea turned out to be the result of consuming half a family-sized bottle of peri-peri sauce the previous evening, a strange habit of mine that occurs every time I eat a chicken drumstick, but rarely with such alarming results.
I know I should have considered that, especially as my throat was on fire, but the pain in my chest (the indigestion) had me not thinking straight (okay, a bit less straight than my normal levels of not thinking straight) and, believe me, if I could have avoided that night in the hospital, I really would have done so. After lurching around on a beeping trolley from one meal and cup of tea to the next, I finally reached my overnight destination, the chamber of horrors. I was one of the little horrors of course, having accidentally embezzled fo
