A friend returned from Australia last week in the early morning. That same morning, his son, who he'd been to visit for his wedding, rang us. Would we check on his dad as he wasn't that well?
He took some time to open his front door and stood there panting. I asked him what his symptoms were and he said, breathless, dizzy and some nausea. But I'm fine, no problem, he protested. Get in the car, I said, strongly enough that he only offered token resistance.
I drove straight to Accident & Emergency and he was booked in with blood pressure off the scale. 280 over 160. That was a week ago and now after a shed load of tests he's been taken to the St Helier specialist renal hospital for further treatment as his kidney functions have dropped to a mere 10% of functionality.
All this time he refused to be undressed, despite being catheterised, or even to remove his boots. The reason? Superstition. He's a nurse himself and says if he takes off his boots, he'll never walk out of there. Men just don't do doctors it's true. Give me two paracetamol and I'll be fine. It's still touch and go if he will be fine.