Accident & Errrmergency?

I visited an NHS accident & emergency department in central(ish) London last night.

I've started reacting really badly to insect bites, and have had a real badass muthafucka on my right forearm for a week now. I reckoned I could control it with TCP, germolene and melolene, but was ordered to St Thomas' when my home-botched bandage slipped and my co-workers saw for themselves the gaping volcano of seething horror that lay beneath.

It's a good job I was given my marching orders, because my hand had started to go a bit fat and strange, and it did occur to me that it could fall off. Then I'd be buggered - respect to the drummer from Def Leppard and all that, but I don't fancy trying to churn out copy with one hand.

Anticipating an evening of hack-coughing old people, screaming green babies, lunging tramps, sweaty plastic chairs, fluro-lighting and MRSA, I thought it would be wise to get some supplies in. Heat magazine, the Indy, chocolate raisins, chocolate peanuts, Jelly Babies, Smarties, cheese and onion crisps, sausage and egg wedge and a bottle of water. Medical emergency, you see - calories do not apply. I didn't intend to eat all of it, but ooh, there's nothing worse than bringing a packed lunch, getting stuck somewhere, and realising you hate everything you've brought. Suddenly your mozzarella and rocket ciabatta on sundried tomato foccacia, freshly-squeezed pear zest smoothie and hand-dusted chocolate truffles gently imprinted with gold leaf look about as appealing as a soggy cheese and sweetcorn relish sarnie, a carton of Um Bongo and a fun-sized Topic. Also, it occurred to me that I could use the sweets as small bribes to keep the MRSA babies away from my slowly-peeling plaster. I was so ready for the long-haul. I was clinic fit, and ready to sit in the same place for like, ages.

So it was a bit of a shock to walk into A&E and find a bank of empty chairs and a wide-screen telly showing Hollyoaks. I peered around, looking for the real waiting room, but there were just a few grey-looking people in pyjamas and shoes leant gently against walls. The triage nurse stuck a thingie in my ear, the registration nurse registered me, and I'd hardly had time to polish off the wedge, the Smarties and the first few paged of Heat before I was called in.

The nurse was brilliant, even though she poked the hole in my arm with a pointy stick. I opted for a blood sugar level test not because I thought I really could be diabetic, but because surely you can't go to A&E and not have someone stick a needle in you? The blood sugar was clearly off the chart, as I'd just been stuffing my face with Smarties and ketchup.

I had called for waiting room back-up, who arrived as I was leaving, all bandaged up with a box of antibiotics in my bag.

I've never been to A&E before - I was a cautious child and had thought that you'd get a bollocking from the nurses if you turned up with anything less than a severed limb. I haven't developed MRSA yet, and the whole experience was quite pleasant. I'm going back tomorrow!