If you don't get irony this thread is not for you.

Name………..Terry Nye (Kent Cassandra)
Location.... QEQM Hospital, Margate Kent;

Yes Hospital! I have been here for four days now with what they have told me are blood clots blocking the pulmonary arteries over 95 per cent of both lungs.
If I wasn’t an Athiest I would be very cross with your God (As you tell me he is the only one.) What kind of God would add insult to injury and strike a man down on his birthday???
Was it a message from above or just instinct that told me that flying in those heavier than air metal containers was a bad idea? No, in fact it was scientific research.
Apart from crashing and the real threat of terrorist attack and even if you don't get your arm broken in the aisle seat by the hips of the fat flight attendant there are many other reasons flying is bad for your health. If exposing your body to the germs of a couple hundred strangers in a metal tube with poor ventilation isn't enough, then we have to cope with the stress of cramped quarters, poor food and service.
In my case, what nearly killed me was that I was straightjacketed in a cramped confined space while the flimsy aircraft was being tossed around like a rowing boat in a raging river for four and a half hours. Unbeknown to me (As it is in 80 per cent of people) I suffered a Deep Vein Thrombosis and didn’t know a thing about it.
I thought you didn’t fly? I can hear you asking. Well both Aelish and I have had a really tough year and at the end of January we decided that we would take ourselves off for a bit of well deserved winter sun. We found a fantastic deal on the Island of Fuerteventura and against all my instincts and principles booked two weeks holiday. If there was a way of getting there by car I would have taken it but there you go beggars can’t be choosers.
We had a nice two weeks in the sun and reluctantly made our way back to the airport to catch our Thomas Cooke flight back to London. After checking our bags and going through to the boarding lounge we were told after about an hour that the plane hadn’t arrived and we had to go back and retrieve our cases. We hung around until almost midnight and then were told that the flight was cancelled and we had to return to our hotels. Back to the airport 10 am the next day and were inundated with rumours and given false hope again and again. Eventually we took off a few minutes short of 24hours after the original take off time. Apparently towards the end of the flight I suffered a Deep Vein Thrombosis in the left leg. For a few weeks afterwards I started to get increasingly breathless after I had walked any distance. I had no pain and put my breathlessness down to a possible virus. Finally on my birthday I collapsed after getting out of bed and going to the toilet. I was rushed to hospital and in the last four days I have had more tests than I knew existed. I have had at least an armful of blood extracted, had more images taken of my inside than a Hollywood film studio cutting floor and pored over by men in white coats and thick glasses who squirted all sorts of magic potions into my non believing bloodstream.
I kept telling them I was fine, my blood pressure was as good as any 25 year old athlete; my body while slightly overweight was still the Adonis it had always been. My heart was sound and I was even giving them some stick back when they started treating ME!! (Who is only 75) like an old man. Every test they did including 2 chest x-rays didn’t show up anything that could be causing my symptoms. These guys really have some ego and hate being proved wrong, at one point I had teams working on both arms, taking bloods. Nurses on ones side and doctors on the other who were working on Arterial blood tests. I though I had finally convinced them there was nothing wrong with me and they would let me go home to finish off the trench I was digging in the garden. They were standing in the corner talking and looking very annoyed when a young skinny man with a shock of special one hair and a red face hurriedly approached the group with a piece of paper in his hand. Suddenly their faces softened and I could see one or two covering up triumphant smiles. special one had come up with an elevated result on the last blood test.
They triumphantly dragged me away to have a full body scan. When the pictures came through the doctor asked them to test the machine saying that “This can’t be right…he’d be dead! I was told later that they could see masses of blood clots and these were restricting 95 per cent of the blood flow to my heart.
I still can hardly believe that they would go to such extreme lengths to falsify results just to prove themselves right. Think about it for a moment, my blood pressure is perfect, my heart is working well, my temperature is fine, my oxygen saturations are normal and yet they are telling me that only 5 percent of my blood is getting through from my lungs to my heart.

They have even convinced Aelish and my two daughters Deborah and Amanda who are now nagging me to take it easy. Unfortunately women are easily swayed by Johhny Depp type figures so I am afraid I am losing the battle and am being forced to behave myself and toe the line.

So there I was, dozing on my bed when I opened my eyes and saw that I was surrounded by a row of men in black suits and thick distorted horn rimmed glasses. Oh my God, I thought, what now? I have heard about these guys, they are the dreaded Clinical Decisions Directorate. I furtively looked round for a means of escape but they had cleverly put me in the corner of the room where I had little room for maneuver. Quickly I shut my eyes, maybe they would think I was asleep but that didn’t fool them and they started to pull the bed out into the centre of the ward… Plan B, I opened my eyes and gave them a big warm smile, all I received back however was blank stares through thick spectacles that made their eyes look as big as saucers. I sat there as still as a…well nothing is still in this universe, hardly daring to breathe when one of the men stepped forward. He raised his arms into the air and said, “Mr Nye!”
“A clinical decision has been made.”
“Let me introduce you to,”
“THE CLOTBUSTERS!”

Suddenly music started to blare from the paneled ceiling and three girls appeared at the end of the long ward pushing a trolley. They wore red shirts, blue slacks and the letters CB emblazoned across their ample bosoms. The trolleys were bedecked with triangular pennants …’Warfarin’ said one, ‘Heparin’, said another, the third said syntrom, the fourth aspirin etc etc. In step with each other and in time with the music they marched towards me with a confident determined smile on their faces. All the patients jumped out of bed cheering and the doctors had whipped off their black jackets and were clapping in unison and in time with the music.
After they had had their evil way with me the nurse said “The ‘CONSULTANT’ wants to have a heart to heart with you in the morning.”
“Does that mean they are going to give me someone else’s heart,”
“No, Mr Nye.”
‘I have a Fulham heart and they might give me one that belonged to a Manchester United or even worse a Chelsea heart.’
“Mr Nye, they are just going to discuss a medication plan.”
“Well tell them it won’t work, I also have a Fulham brain and you can’t mix Fulham and Chelsea in one body or you will end up with a dumb, friendly football fan.”

Anyway… the way it has ended up is that the doctors have put me on big IV doses of Heparin and oral doses of Warfarin and are saying that if I don’t exert myself in any way, that after long term treatment I will be at least as fit as I was before. I can’t drive or exert myself in any way for three months as another attack could kill me. My wife and daughters are out shopping for handcuffs, reins and leg chains, they are even buying boxes of laxatives in case I strain myself having a poo. I don’t know whether they are Capitalists or Communists but whatever they are they can keep it.
They know as well as I do that there is nothing wrong with me but to keep everyone happy I am forced to let everyone have their way, Aelish, Deborah and Amanda are too big a force to fight and with Julie, Lisa and Donna joining in on their side I feel like I am massively outnumbered.
Of course these big headed prats at the hospital are going to end up getting all the credit and it will be yet another triumph for the National Health Service when all my friends and family west of the West Indies knows that Free medicine is a load of crap. Look at it this way, here I am in a small town hospital which is spotlessly clean and I am surrounded by skilled Doctors, Nurses, Auxilaries and Technicians. I am being well looked after and fed 3 hot, healthy, nutritious and well cooked meals every day and at the end of my stay I will walk out of here and it hasn’t cost me a penny piece. Tell me, how can any capitalist support that?
PS. Have just been granted parole and have been allowed to go home as long as I am guarded day and night. They have mistakenly allowed me access to a computer and I am doing research to try to formulate an escape plan.

Come on you wonderful Whites…………..Terry[