So after the initial madness had surpassed it was time to get checked out. My parents and Matthew took myself and baby to our local hospital, it’s a tiny hospital but they have an on call doctor. Mum is a medical secretary there so she have the Doc on call a quick ring and he said he would be ready for us. We arrived and I explained what happened and told him what hurt- the usual stuff after an RTC… He then thoroughly checked baby over who was still absolutely fine and delighted that the doctor was a man! Baby got all clear, the weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
I was to be sent to the larger city hospital, an hour away by car. The doctor called an ambulance to take me as he had put a neckbrace on me. The ambo arrived and they layed me on a special mattress that they then a sucked the air out of and it moulded to my body keeping me stock still. I was then injected by the doctor just above the hip in the fat- I have enough of it he had plenty of choice on where to put it! The ambulance crew decided that because I was in pain and the road ambulance is so uncomfortable on long journey they would see if the air ambulance was free. Yes the AIR AMBULANCE. Seriously?!
Mum had taken baby home with her and dad so she could have a bottle and relax after the ordeal- although if she relaxed any more she’d be asleep… Thank god my baby takes after her daddy taking everything in her stride. I on the other hand was not taking everything in my stride. I’d been air lifted before after falling off my horse badly (accident prone being my middle name or walking disaster as I put it) so you’d think id be chilled about the whole situation… Ehhhh NO!
So I was finally air lifted to hospital. Turbulence was terrible that day and the worst part of all, I couldn’t even enjoy the view! Last time I flew laying on my stomach so I had a good view of the floor this time we spiced it up a bit and I want in my back giving me a lovely view of the sky… Well clouds, it is Scotland after all.
I arrive in style at the hospital, one only travels first class (wink wink). I was poked, prodded, rolled onto different beds and even had sticky tabs stuck to my stomach and chest for an ECG. Try peeling them off a hairy tummy later on, the pain rivaling bloody childbirth. The worst part was that because I needed a chest X-ray they needed to take my bra off nausea of the underwire, now any normal person may blush a tad at having to go commando in the boob department but no not me. I was more concerned with the fact they would have to cut my beautiful cashmere jumper and favourite checked shirt to get my over-the-boulder-shoulder-holder off as that I tell you was more painful than pulling the stupid stick tabs off!
After copious X-rays, that I swear caused me to be borderline radioactive and visibley glow, I was wheeled to a cubicle in A&E, given the all clear and told I could go home if I was doing om after they took the neck brace of and sat me up. Trust me when I say my neck could have been at a rather discerning angle and I’d still be telling them I was fine to go home. I needed to see my beautiful baby.
So they took the neck brace off, sat me up an let me hobble to the toilet with the help if my darling man to hold my hand. May I just say that dignity goes out the window when you have a baby, but that didn’t stop me blushing like a tomato when I waddled passed two rather dashing young cops in uniform with no bra on and only a white thermal top to cover my dignity (me half clothed that is, not the policemen). So after walking past them TO AND FROM THE BATHROOM it was told I could make my way home with the information that I’d get worse in the next 48 hours not better -_- hmm but Yeeehaaa I was going home!