at least it can't get any worse
I was admitted to the Hospital Universitario Virgen Las Nieves, Granada, on a Friday, five days after my heart decided to go on strike [see #14, most heart attacks happen on a Monday]. I had barely managed anything to eat and what did got barfed up soon after. Apart from waking up for tests, examinations, checks and pills, I slept the sleep of the righteous all the way through to Saturday afternoon. When I woke up, I was starving. “Can I have some food?” I said while miming