LUCKY NUMBER ~ A little revision with a slight deviation from the usual subjective vision. Take a four-leafed clover and break off a leaf then subject yourself to much derision. Such is the usual consequence of breaking the mold.
There were three witches stirring the broth Of the cauldron of fabulous fortune. Three wise men stared into crystal balls. A trio of wizards studied the runes. Three answers to my question gave birth To my tri-universal problematic equation.
The significant number with firm proof You will need to follow wherever you roam, A number that will always be with you; The key to your future in a third dimension Wherever you roam in Sea, Sky or Earth. Look to the cycle of a mystical threesome.
Your lucky number will be with you forever Engendering three branches of fortune Three spins; Good, Bad or Indifferent. Look to the leaves of a four leafed Clover Then break of a leaf and feel the power. Of this harsh sometimes brutal world Where luck lies with the accident of birth.
Life goes by like lightning as the happy years unfurl and seem to drift by at the speed of light. The cruising holiday went well, we toured around some popular ports around the Mediterranean Sea. The food was plentiful and available in many forms. The carefree consumption of many high fat, high risk food didn’t concern me. I have always been an extremely fit man, indulging in some healthy exercise on my allotment, in our garden and on the club bowling green. With an always optimistic outlook on life I was sure I would contentedly go on forever.
We were at our Bowls Club when the first signs of something untoward occurred, although I suspect the signs and warnings were already there, silent and unrecognised. I stood at the edge of the bowling green where I suddenly became aware of a strange pain in my chest. I immediately sat down and began to take some deep breaths, I suspected I was suffering from a bout of indigestion. My wife Margaret, asked if I was alright and I nodded and said,
“Don’t worry, I have a funny pain, probably just a touch of indigestion.” I took a drink of water and after a few minutes the pain seemed to disappear.
We played a great game of bowls together, we were drawn to play on the same side and we gave each other the support we needed to win the match.
We returned home and enjoyed a super-tasty chicken meal, prepared by Margaret. After an evening spent watching television we went to bed.
At 01.30, I woke with a pain in my chest and neck, about ten times worse than the pain I had suffered at the Bowls Club. Margaret woke and became concerned, “Do you have pain radiating down your arm?”
“No!” I replied. “just a funny pain in my chest and my neck.”
Margaret then decided to immediately telephone 111; NHS Choices. Margaret spoke to an efficient operator, who advised I take 4 Aspirin, chewing them as opposed to swallowing them for a faster effect. The operator then telephoned for an ambulance. A paramedic arrived within 10 minutes closely followed by an emergency ambulance. My pulse was taken, my blood pressure was measured and an ECG was done which proved to be slightly abnormal. The ambulance personnel then informed me I would have to go to the Norfolk and Norwich hospital for further tests. Margaret decided to drive herself to the hospital to give me some support. On the way to hospital, I had a further four ECG readings which were still showing an abnormal reading, with many other tests. The young lady paramedic was polite and caring and extremely efficient, as she filled in her forms collating the readings and information.
The ambulance arrived at the A&E department, where I was subjected to a barrage of further tests and several blood samples were taken for analysis in the lab. I waited on a trolley for around half an hour before Margaret arrived, bringing several things for me in case I was admitted to hospital. I was really happy to see her. After about another half an hour doctor arrived and said,
“You have had a heart attack, we are waiting for some results of blood tests from the lab. I am afraid you will have to stay in hospital for a few days.”
The doctor then turned to Margaret and said she should go home and sleep as things may take a while from here.
An hour later, after a further chat with the Doctor, I found myself in bed, in the male admissions assessment ward. This was an experience that I will remember for a long time to come. I was shown to a bed next to a window, with a pleasant view of the greenery in the hospital grounds.
It’s a sunny day in the popular seaside resort. Michael is constructing a garden shed for a customer of his DIY store, when his pager goes off. He scans the device briefly then turns and starts running. His colleagues are not surprised. They’re used to it. Within minutes he arrives at the local lifeboat station on the southeast coast. Soon he and the rest of the crew are at sea, powering towards the rocky cliffs, where two swimmers are trapped against the rocks by a heavy swell. It’s a tricky operation to steer the rigid inflatable boat close enough without it being smashed against the rocks. The team have to bring it in quickly then hover, balancing carefully at 90 degrees to the swell. The crew hoist one man out and manoeuvre the boat round for the other man before turning for home. With both men delivered safely to the emergency services, the lifeboat is rehoused, washed and prepared for the next incident. Within hours Michael is back at the store. This is just a solitary incident in the life of an unpaid ordinary member of the public who devote their time and efforts to saving lives at sea. Imagine for a moment that you’re part of the crew on a lifeboat. It’s 2.30am on a freezing January morning and the pager’s just woken you from a deep sleep in a snug warm bed. You then head out to sea in complete darkness and 10m waves rise and fall around you, ready to swamp you at any moment. Strong gale force winds throw the lifeboat around like a toy. Most lifeboat crew members are volunteers, ordinary people who simply and selflessly want to save lives at sea. When the pagers go off, they drop everything and are regularly called away from their families, their beds and their work, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. A donation to to the RNLI, is always money well-spent, to enable this important rescue work to continue.