I continue to recover from flu. I think the layer of fat helps me.
I got sent condolences from this blog’s occasional Canadian correspondent Anna Smith, who had initially been confused by a recent blog in which I had mentioned I had to take my eternally-un-named friend to A&E at a London hospital.
“They do Arts & Entertainment at a hospital?” she had wondered.
In the UK, A&E means Accident & Emergency.
“In Canada,” Anna told me, “it is known simply as Emergency. Maybe that is because all our emergencies are assumed to be accidental. Maybe there are more intentional emergencies in the UK.”
She was also quite reasonably very shocked that, in UK hospitals, the target (very often under-achieved) is that 95% of patients who arrive at A&E should be seen “within four hours”.
Anna tells me: “I’m pretty fortunate as far as not having to wait long here. Last time I went to St.Paul’s (the local Vancouver hospital) they didn’t mess around. I was sent off for scanning almost immediately.
“A man was rolling around on the floor and yelling and hallucinating, pleading for water. He was brought a carton of apple juice but was too preoccupied to drink it.
“Another man in handcuffs, guarded by two policemen, was calm though depressed. The policeman sitting beside him fished through his pockets to locate his cell phone. The man then called his wife to say he’d be a bit late getting home.”
I guess there are worse things than flu.