Gallbladder IV - The descent into darkness: Pamona

Monday morning I wake up and I'm in trouble, I'm in pain, I feel awful, I have no appetite, can't eat anything, can't get comfy. I take painkillers that help but it's all gone tits up. Trouble is, I STILL don't really know what's wrong with me except it might be vaguely gallbladder related. Thursday night I wake up covered in sweat and shivering. OK that's enough. I take myself off to the doc the next day and relate what's been going on.
She prods me about and takes my temp. "Temperature is normal now. I'll put you down for a scan; that should tell us what's going on. In the meantime, no fatty food, drink plenty of liquids, take painkillers and paracetamol, and if you experience any fever again, come back here at once, or take yourself off to the hospital."
No blood test. In hindsight, why not? but what did I know.
Off I went, and the next day, Saturday, I decend into darkness.
I realise now how my gallbladder had transmogrified from this

Gallbladder here. How may I be of assistance?


To this

You talkin' to me?


To finally this

Gallbladder will exact vengeance my preciousssssss......


Saturday the pain starts moderate and gets slowly, inexorably, worse as the day progresses. All round my right side, under my shoulder blade, in my stomach. Cold, grey unremitting awfulness. I take codeine, ibuprofren, paracetamol. Nothing seems to work for too long. The missus is out and we are supposed to be going to the National Theatre in the afternoon to see a play called Pamona. I can't remember booking it. I can't remember what it is about.
I take myself off and meet the missus in the foyer. I am grey with pain and misery. Decide on balance that we might as well give it a go as we are here. After all, it might be something jolly and it'll cheer me up, so in we go.
Gentle reader, if I had just won the lottery, the Nobel Peace prize, and an Oscar, been voted the world's sexiest man and had groupies aplenty liing up to take me to dinner, I would still have come oput of the play wanting to slit my throat.
Never had I experienced such a depressing play. It was set in Manchester, in a dystopian post-industrial bleak future and was about a secret bunker hidden in some Mancunian wasteland where legions of young girls were kept chained up, made pregnant over and over again, their progeny sold off for profit, and when they could no longer produce, their organs were harvested.
I was now sick in mind and body. Staggered home, took extra doses of painkillers, sat on the sofa with lots of hot water bottles.
Sunday a bit better.
Monday I take myself off to the docs again. I try to see if the scan can be fast-tracked. Probably 2-3 weeks. He sends me off with more industrial strength painkillers, watch symptons etc etc.
By Thursday, I have hardly eaten anything, have hardly been free from pain, but no fever. Thursday evening I go to my sister's for supper. I manage a few mouthfuls, but then get the shakes. By the shakes I mean massive, uncontrollable shaking of hands, arms, legs, feet. I feel incredibly cold. My head is shaking so much I can hardly speak. They take my temperature - it's through the roof. Call the doc. I describe symptoms. "Go to the A&E NOW"