I had plans for this weekend. The weather looked like being perfect for motorbiking; dry, sunny, and warm but not so hot that wearing all that protective clothing makes you melt. The plan was to go down to Worthing on Saturday morning, have a look around town, maybe have a coffee and pastry somewhere, and browse a couple of record shops there. I was then going to come home by taking the coast road to Brighton, where there are a couple of shops at the Hove end that I wanted to check out.

That is not how it panned out.

Instead of all that, I woke up at 6am with a nasty bout of reflux, possibly the worst I have had so far. Sometimes I can just sit up in bed for an hour or so and it will subside. Sometimes I end up having to throw up before I can be comfortable. Other times I just know that it is best going for the nuclear option straight away. After an hour or so of alternating between vomiting and feeling sorry for myself I realised that I was very unwell. Although it was not that cold I was shivering and feeling dizzy. I did drift in and out of sleep but only in a fever dream sort of way. At some point I realized that I was now very hot indeed and soaking the sheets in sweat.

While all this was going on, I was afraid to move too much in case that set of the reflux again. As time went on I continued drifting in and out of sleep, each time I would look at the clock and tell myself that I really should get up, but could not find the energy to do that. I eventually did get up at about 6pm. By this time the cat was going mad for his breakfast. Fortunately I had dragged myself downstairs at about 7 to open the back door so the dog could go out if necessary.

I still felt like crap for the rest of the evening and when I took the dog out for a walk I had to take plenty of breaks – we need more benches on Manor Royal!

After my operations, I was told that I would not be the same again, and would have to make lots of adjustments to my diet and lifestyle. I guess I sometimes get it wrong, but not sure exactly how. Maybe it is if I eat too late? Considering all that went on, I feel happy that I only have to take one medicine, which is to prevent reflux. Mostly it works, but I get this about once every month or two.

Looking at the big picture, this is something I can live with, given what the alternative was, but that does not make it any more pleasant at the time, although it is only really bad a few times a year. I suppose it could have been worse. I would have been very pissed off if I had been in a tent at Glastonbury!

Despite all that, I went to bed reasonably early on Saturday and slept. It makes me wonder if there was something else going on, because on Sunday I still felt a bit groggy. Certainly I would not have risked getting on my bike.

If all this sounds a bit melodramatic, it is worth bearing in mind that when I get reflux, it is not stomach acid coming up, because I don’t have a stomach any more and I am missing one of the sphincters you should really have – the pyloric I think. This means I am getting the stuff straight from the duodenum (I think?) . So it is more like chyme than acid.

Anyway, it looks like everything is OK now, just in time for the working week. There is always next weekend for a trip to the coast. I bet it ends up with thunderstorms.