Needles, sewing and otherwise

Within 15 minutes of being taken ill there was a doctor, a nurse and a gas man in the flat, plus an ambulance parked in the street. The gas man carried an oxygen cylinder.

Things fell apart a bit when they tried to get me into a hospital because no one wanted me - we had no insurance. Eventually a non-profit making clinic in a dubious part of the city took the risk thanks to Manuel making the Seminary go as security. The Seminary must be pretty solid because they gave me my own room with balcony, sofa and cable TV.

Olwen had to sign to say she would stay with me 24 hours a day. Most of her time was spent sitting on the bed knitting, Matt watched the football. I buried myself in stories of Greek heroes while exercising. There was some confusion as to who was the patient.

Thankfully the Board paid for me to see a specialist who diagnosed the previous week's 7 hour cramped bus journey to Armenia as clot inducing. I now must take jags before and after such trips.

Things are back to normal: no cable TV, Matt's in Scotland, Olwen and the newly arrived Murdo & Christine Morrison (Kinloch, Lewis) are revamping the sewing room and I'm desperate to get back into the real world of the ancient Bible.

Photo: View from the hospital balcony at night: the Metro train flies past a 19th century church

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