One night in May, my wife sat up in bed and said, \u201cI\u2019ve got this awful pain just here.\u201d She prodded her abdomen and made a face. \u201cIt feels like something\u2019s really wrong.\u201d Woozily noting that it was 2am, I asked what kind of pain it was. \u201cLike something\u2019s biting into me and won\u2019t stop,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cHold on,\u201d I said blearily, \u201chelp is at hand.\u201d I brought her a couple of ibuprofen with some water, which she downed, clutching my hand and waiting for the ache to subside.<\/p>\n
An hour later, she was sitting up in bed again, in real distress. \u201cIt\u2019s worse now,\u201d she said, \u201creally nasty. Can you phone the doctor?\u201d Miraculously, the family doctor answered the phone at 3am, listened to her recital of symptoms and concluded, \u201cIt might be your appendix. Have you had yours taken out?\u201d No, she hadn\u2019t. \u201cIt could be appendicitis,\u201d he surmised, \u201cbut if it was dangerous you\u2019d be in much worse pain than you\u2019re in. Go to the hospital in the morning, but for now, take some paracetamol and try to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n
Barely half an hour later, the balloon went up. She was awakened for the third time, but now with a pain so savage and uncontainable it made her howl like a tortured witch face down on a bonfire. The time for murmured assurances and spousal procrastination was over. I rang a local minicab, struggled into my clothes, bundled her into a dressing gown, and we sped to St Mary\u2019s Paddington at just before 4am.<\/p>\n
The flurry of action made the pain subside, if only through distraction, and we sat for hours while doctors brought forms to be filled, took her blood pressure and ran tests. A registrar poked a needle into my wife\u2019s wrist and said, \u201cDoes that hurt? Does that? How about\u00a0that<\/em>?\u201d before concluding: \u201cImpressive. You have a very high pain threshold.\u201d<\/p>\nReference:<\/h4>\n
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