The Perils of a Geocaching Pensioner - Part 2

Lets return to the point that I'm lying in a mud and water filled gully, unable to move and made that 999 call. I've already discovered that the lady on the other end of the phone thinks that an orchard in the countryside has a postcode and they are out looking for me. Please note that I had informed them that, to put it politely, I was not a petite lady.

Again my mobile phone rang and a gentleman on the other end indicated he was a paramedic and had finally found my car, he wanted to know which way to start walking to find me. Whilst screaming in pain I managed to direct him into the orchard to which he gave me a cheery wave as he came into view. After a few questions he decided he could get me to my feet, he did which lasted 5 seconds before I crumpled in a heap on the ground again. His reaction was to say, "I think we need backup", brilliant I thought, I told them over an hour ago I wasn't a ballerina or a vegetarian.

The emergency services then couldn't find an available ambulance and I could hear him on the phone say we had to do something. He decided to wander off to get me a blanket and by now I was covered in mud and water, shivering from cold and resembled a wallowing hippopotamus rather than a pensioner. Suddenly from behind the hedge an old lady appeared, looked at me and said, "Are you all right dear?", I replied "Yes thanks the paramedic's just gone to get me a blanket". Not a flicker from her as she wandered off as if this was normal, no concern at all.

At last they found a private ambulance traveling back to it's base in Avonmouth and they finally got me to Berkeley Cottage Hospital in about 2 hours. Must describe the two ambulance men as one was about 6ft 6ins whilst the other was about 5ft 3ins, talk about Little and Large, glad they didn't put me on a stretcher to get me back to the ambulance as I would have probably been dropped again.

Little and Large did the paperwork and disappeared before the nurse could tell them that I should have been taken to Gloucester Royal, so it was all down to a couple of nurses and a couple old tea orderlies to look after me. I was stripped of all my wet clothes and covered in just blankets but left on my own for hours, being a small cottage hospital I think the nurse was also looking after the ward as well as injuries.

Several hours later I was having more discomfort from not emptying my bladder and pleaded for some help, great, in comes the assistant tea lady pushing a toilet on wheels and stays chatting while I try to complete the task. Not a hope with the seat so small and the arm rests so close together it was like trying to get water out of a hose-pipe whilst someone squeezing the pipe together. Next move was to get me to a toilet down the corridor, A trio of helpers marched me past the general public, one holding a blanket on my top half, one holding a blanket around my bottom half and a nurse holding me up as I hopped along. During the return journey along the corridor I caught sight of myself in a mirror and noticed that the lower blanket didn't meet at the back. The general public got more than a builders bum, it was more like a geocacher's letterbox.

After several more hours, doctors pulling and prodding me and even more Xrays taken, they finally decided that nothing was broken, I didn't like to mention that my pride was well and truly broken.

Look out for Part 3 - trying to get home, stopping for a fire and being carried in by all the neighbourhood.