This was the penultimate time I called an ambulance. (I had 8 symptoms of heart failure, but the Practice Nurse at Riverside Health Centre had failed to notice a single one, and had sent me home. But that’s another story…)
I was in bed and the front door was on the latch. The paramedic was a woman of about 50. Immediately, she was very suspicious. I’d had a major stroke at 49. Surely I was in some way to blame?
Had I been a heavy smoker?
No, I’d never smoked.
Oh, a heavy drinker then?
No, not really, just a can of beer in the evening…
She wouldn’t have it. Eventually I was put in a wheelchair and wheeled out to the ambulance.
There! she said triumphantly. I’d left an empty green bottle by my bench – presumably too drunk to take it inside…
Actually no, said her colleague. It’s posh water… (San Pellegrino, as a matter of fact…)