Last night my partner was very ill. This normally fit and well 30-something doubled up in agony (a score of 9 he said) and I felt pretty useless. I don’t drive so I couldn’t make the trip up to hospital, and to be frank it would have been a near impossibility for him to stand anyway; doubled up on the floor in agony, barely able to speak.
What made most sense in this situation, what was probably glaringly obvious in fact, was that I should call an ambulance. And yet, I more than hesitated. I delayed, ignored, waited until the moans became more frequent – then I finally caved and dialled those three numbers which are quite literally a lifeline.
Why did I wait? Why did I watch someone I love suffer? Maybe there is an innate reluctance to ask for help. We are British after all, (stiff upper lip…
View original post 915 more words
Fear and Loathing in Great Britain 