Monday it was warm ish and waking up I thought Daniel was snoring. He wasn’t , it was me wheezing.

Peak flow is usually 470. It was showing 350. Oxygen level thingy was 89.

Following my clear ( as mud) BARTs hospital plan I rang each of the help numbers I’d been given. No answer. In fact “number not recognised “

I thought I’d better start steroids and antibiotics and anything frankly to get a grip on this.

Tuesday again a wheezy night.

Peak flow 300. Oxygen 89. I rang GP. waiting on the line for so long I jumped out of my skin to hear a receptionist. That gained me a face to face with a gp. Useless. Hopeless. Unsmiling grumpy screen staring. She said don’t take antibiotics take steroids. Ring BARTs.

I rang some other BARTs number. Ah said the lady on the end. You need this number and gave me the “number not recognised “ one. Ignoring my wheezy protests that it didn’t work she said text it. I did. God knows why as no reply.

Wednesday very hot day and so short of breath calling the GP line again gained me a paramedic -at -the -surgery appointment. She was wonderful. You need mega steroids. Nebulisers. Big Antibiotics. Ring Barts. If worse go to Aand E.

Thursday sooo hot. Rang Barts again. Someone answered. I explained. Don’t worry dear you’ll soon be better. Ring tomorrow. lack of sleep. Lack of breath I texted the ever responsive pa to Mr Consultant Respiratory. He is private. He had referred me to BARTs when even his skills were limited in treating difficult patients like me and asthma! Insurance used to cover his stuff.

Friday train. Cool. Quick. Calm. Saw Mr Respiratory after having had my Visa card swiped downstairs. Fair enough! Our new Health Insurance scheme is not properly designed to actually help in any situation. X ray. Bloods. Throat. Lungs. Yuck. He suggested I should be admitted immediately. After some to’ing and fro’ing said insurance wouldn’t couldn’t help authorise or do anything because GP had not sent in requested form. Turned out GP admin wasn’t at work that day.

By this time I was hot tired and not thinking straight. The ( private) Hospital kind nice welcome lady said she could not advise me to self pay. She said it was astronomical. Daniel texting from the ninth hole of some golf course kindly suggested we should self pay and go for it.

Long and short of it I came home. Ramped up the nebulisers. Poured in more steroids. Messaged Mr Respiratory pa. She asked me which hospital I’d ‘decided’ to go to. I just texted back ‘home’. I guess if you’re a self payer you get ignored. Therefore I haven’t heard from anyone since. Test results. X-rays. Etc. those are presumably out in the ether somewhere. Mr Respiratory probably thinks I’m in his private hospital under the care of the private acute clinicians there. As for Barts they don’t have a clue. Oh and apparently it could be covid or whooping cough. Mr Respiratory thought. “There’s a lot of it about.”

Today. Saturday. It’s hot but I’m kind of ok doing better on the breathing wheezing situation.

Yes. I promise , before you worry, if no better I will go to an Aand E. But where? I realise now, in retrospect I should have gone to Aand E at the Tower where I’m known . But hang on Mr Respiratory does his NHS work there. Maybe he could have suggested that? It’s not really about the money. Or is it? What on earth is happening to our health services(s). ?