In which I go to hospital in an ambulance

We were planning on leaving for France today but I woke up early this morning with an agonizing pain in my chest, unable to breathe.  It was absolutely bloody terrifying. Every breath I took made it worse and every movement was excruciating.  I pride myself on being quite tough but that was like nothing I'd felt before.  

The Boyfriend dialed 999 and the ambulance was there within minutes.  Seriously.  He barely had time to put his shoes on. Fifteen minutes later I was in the hospital having tests.  It was absolutely awe inspiring.  There's a lot of criticism of the NHS but I've experienced it at the sharp end and I can tell you I was so grateful and so humbled by the professionalism, the efficiency and the decency of every single person I encountered.  And I didn't pay a single penny.  Forget everything else - in my mind, the mark of civilization is free, effective health care.

And the prognosis?  They think it's gall stones.  Glamorous, I know.  The doctor feels I'll be ok to go to France so I've been given painkillers the size of horse pills, I'm resting today and we're hoping to leave for France tomorrow.  When I return, I'll have to have stomach scans for gall stones and we'll take it from there.