Post 5 - Izzys E5

Isabelle Hazeldine, a good friend of mine from uni. Although we both spend more time outside of uni together than inside due to our terrible attendance - made worse this year by the inconvenience of not having a house. I was waiting for Izzy to finish work and had been completely knackered from the night before as I had to leave the party ridiculously early so spent most of my morning asleep on the Bakerloo line going back and forth in a desperate attempt to catch up on some sleep. I went in to class for the evening lecture and soon after made my way to Izzys, and as much as I love her I can't say I was looking forward to it. |The reason for this bieng Izzy, and her three house mates are big BIG drinkers and although I can hold more than my own the continuous late nights were beginning to take there toll on me and I was begining to come down with something

Dale serving breakfast.

I arrived at Izzys house and she greets me with our signature drink, Punch and Judy and shoved it in my hand. Rum and Vodka with Punch, laaaaaaavely. I walk in and say hello the the rest of the house all sitting around a deck of cards playing ring of fire. Never the one to be impolite I placed my bag down and got stuck in - and put the pain and tiredness my body was in to the back of my head. I woke up the next day with the hangover from hell, not for the first time after a "night in" with Izzy. My pain was eased when I could smell her housemate Dale cooking breakfast in the kitchen - full english. Perfect. We all sat down to tuck in and have a giggle about the night before but I was still feeling like I was at deaths door and my throat was refusing to allow entry to any solids in my throat, every bite I tried to get down was excruciating. I gave up on the breakfast and tried tea instead but even that was too painful.

A few hours later I was in a hospital bed, turns out I'd had acute tonsilitis the last few days and it had inflammed overnight. I couldnt swallow and when I looked in the mirror i could see the little ball at the back of my throat pushed completely to one side from the swollen tonsils, didn't look too good. One night too many I thought, but at least I'd have a decent nights sleep tonight. Not quite the case as I'd spent the next 24 hours bieng pumped with antibiotics and even worse, bored out of my skull. I'd had a few mates come and visit but was pretty pointless as I couldnt' speak much. Eventually my throat had more or less cleared up and although the doctor advised me to stay another night I discharged myself because I couldn't take the boredom any more. He left me with a weeks course anti biotics and a stern warning to stay off the sauce for a week. I wasn't complaining, I think my liver needed the rest.

 

My view from the hospital bed. Unfortunately me for the elderly gentleman opposite didn't quite realise how much of his nether regions were on show every time he went to throw up.