Party in the city when the heat is on
09.01.14, 8:27 am

I've just realised that there are two events I didn't cover in my last entry, so I'll get crack-a-lacking on that.

Firstly, I never talked about Hannah, my friend who collapsed and was in a diabetic coma. Somehow, miraculously, against all the odds she survived. I was so incredibly worried all of that weekend, pacing about the house with my phone in my hand, waiting for Hannah's sister to pass on any news. And then Hannah's breathing became less laboured, and then she woke up and managed a conversation, and then everything was OK.

She stayed in hospital for three weeks in the end � 1 week in ICU and then 2 on the general ward. Her kidneys were badly damaged and her heart was under stress due to fluid absorption, but somehow she managed to make a full recovery. It was incredible; like I said, basically miraculous. I went to see her a couple of times, and James was completely wonderful and drove me to Leeds and back each time without complaint, and sat in the carpark whilst I was visiting. Going to see her in ICU was horrible, if I'm honest � I kept having flashbacks to Bernie and wanting to physically run away. It was all OK in the end though, and my neuroses were very much not the issue at stake. Hannah's now about to come back to Sheffield and start a new job here, so I should be able to keep an eye on her.

Secondly, I went to Miami in November for a few days for a bone cancer conference. It had the potential for huge fun, as a whole gang of us went and we were all up for a good time. Unfortunately, I decided to catch something horrible on the plane and ended up bed-ridden for two days, effectively missing the entire conference. I managed two complete sessions, and dragged myself down for my poster session one evening, but other than that I lay in my hotel room and felt awful. It was pretty miserable. I did, however, feel OK for the end of the trip, so that was something. We all went out for Cuban food and then went to a salsa club, which was really, really fun. A bit porny, but then the best things often are. I did have to pretend to like some horrible Pitbull songs though. And then the next day we went to the Everglades and saw the alligators in the swamplands, and there was a baby alligator called Snappy and you could have your photo taken with him for $1. SNAPPY WAS THE BEST THING THAT I HAVE SEEN FOR QUITE SOME TIME! HE HAD TINY LITTLE ALLIGATOR TEETH!

Unfortunately though, the weird illness I picked up made my ectopic heartbeat kick off like crazy, and I mean crazy. It was awful. I hammered the old beta-blockers, and figured that once I got back to the UK my heart was calm down and sort itself out. Except it didn't, not really. It wasn't as bad, but it kept niggling away and intruding on day-to-day life. Long term readers will be aware of my tedious, overblown health worries, but I think anyone would struggle with my stupid, relentless extra heartbeat that sucks so many donkey balls that there aren't actually enough donkeys on the planet to power the suck. When you can't even have a shower without feeling like you're having a heart attack, it's difficult to remaining uncaring and upbeat. Anyway, I just got more and more down about it, until finally I cracked and went to see the GP. The conversation went thus:

Me: I have a really annoying extra heartbeat and it feels like it's slowly taking over my life.
GP: Oh, you should just ignore it!
Me: That's a brilliant idea � thankyou!
GP: Bye!

Not really. The GP was actually OK, though her initial suggestion of 'have a baby, so you can worry obsessively about that instead' wasn't the most appealing. Anyway, I'm now on beta-blockers full time, and am feeling a lot happier. The only problem is that I don't think I can take beta-blockers until the end of time, as they increase the risk of conditions such as diabetes (no thanks), and you can't take them when you're pregnant. I guess there's no point worrying so far ahead though.

I'm currently doing a Dryathlon with some of my friends from work to raise money for Cancer Research UK. It's going OK at the moment, but only because the slovenly drink-fest of Christmas is still relatively fresh in my mind. I kind've thought I'd lose some festive chub from lack of alcohol, but instead I just appear to be replacing booze with blue cheese.

I bought a totally sweet tartan trilby hat from eBay for �13 for Burns Night. James has just told me that it's not traditional, like I even vaguely considered that when I bought it. Chances of me wearing it ever again after rowdy meat-in-sheep's-stomach and weird poetry night: basically zero.

Work time!

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