Went to hospital, wherein for two hours (most of it waiting). Had things tested, including while yomping along on on of those absurd exercise machines, wired up to what I don’t really suppose was the most expensive machine in the hospital [Python]. Spoke to amiable cardiologist.
Bit of a false alarm, really; it’s beginning to look as though the nurse at the local practice might have to go on the ECG course again. The unaccountable squiggles may well have been caused by her electrode technique.
Despite which he thought there was justification for putting me on statins (if that is the right term) to control cholesterol, and on beta-blockers to control the heart.
I told him I didn’t care to become dependent on any more drugs at my time of life. There was this moment; this sort of High Noon thing. He actually became fully awake. He was not accustomed to disobedience from sheep. He looked me up and down, and, being a highly trained doctor, correctly perceived me to be a goat.
“Fair enough,” he said. “I won’t bother arguing with you about the smoking either; it’s all written on the packet nowadays.”
“Good heavens,” I replied. “Is it really? My word; whatever will they think of next?”
So that was that.
* this is from Tom & Jerry but I’m damned if I can work out how to cite it properly.
