Aches and Pains

Lilian Baylis House, the former home of the English National Opera, is looking a little rough around the edges these days. The ENO moved out some time ago and as far as I know the building is now vacant. Before it was inhabited by opera aficionados, this building housed the Decca recording studios where Lonnie Donegan recorded "Rock Island Line" in 1954 -- as the blue plaque to the left of the door says -- and the Moody Blues and many other famous bands later worked.

I pass that building many mornings on my walk to work. The whole block looks a little rough, truth be told, but it has for years.

Another busy but nondescript day at work yesterday. I had barely a spare moment but that's not necessarily a bad thing -- it helps the day go faster. The only downside is I have less time in the blogosphere.

My back/side pain was really bothering me yesterday afternoon and evening. I got through the workday and walked home as usual, but then, sitting on the couch with Olga and watching TV with Dave, it felt really intense. "I think I have to go to the hospital," I told Dave. He suggested I call 111, which is the NHS's medical advice line, to get some guidance from them, and it's a good thing I did -- they agreed that pain in my lower right abdomen was reason for concern, and made an appointment for me to see an out-of-hours physician at the Whittington hospital in Highgate. I didn't even know such a thing was possible. I thought I'd have to spend hours hanging around an emergency room.

I took an Uber to Whittington with a driver who regaled me with tales of growing up in London, dropping eggs on people from bus windows as a mischievous teenager and that kind of thing. This was all prompted by a weaving, unstable bicycle rider who kept veering into our path -- it took us a while to get around her. I said to the driver, "She's not a very good bicyclist!" Which somehow led to him talking about bicycling as a carefree youth and other hijinks.

Anyway, there weren't many people at Whittington when I got there -- the waiting area, with its mural of swimmers on nearby Hampstead Heath, was completely empty and I saw the doctor right away. He did some tests and ruled out anything critical -- he was certain that if my appendix was the problem, I'd be much sicker by now given that I've had this pain for four days or more. And my urinalysis was normal, which led him to dismiss the possibility of a kidney stone or UTI. He's pretty sure my pain is musculoskeletal, meaning that I am 58 years old and achey.

I climbed back into an Uber and came home, but not before wandering through the darkened hospital in an effort to find the exit. I came across the artwork above -- the mascot of the Whittington hospital is a cat, as in Dick Whittington's Cat. There's also a cat on the roof, which you may remember from when Dave and I visited the hospital about a year ago for his first hernia surgery.

Anyway, I feel better this morning and I'm glad to know nothing critical is going on. I'm trying to work on my posture in the hopes that will help whatever muscles and/or joints that are acting up to calm down. All this started not long after I spent a week sleeping on the couch in Whitstable. I'm sure that did me no favors.

Oh, and I also made an appointment with my gastroenterologist for Friday to talk about the results of last autumn's tests. I doubt there will be much to report but it's good to close the circle.