A few weeks ago I found myself languishing on a hospital bed about 6pm, wondering what had gone so wrong and what I had done to deserve my day of many health tests. I was not looking forward to a night in a hospital. The last time I stayed over in a hospital I had a sleepless night due to a confused old man repeatedly creeping into the ward and exposing himself! Anyway, I’d had a pretty sharp pain in my chest early that morning; with pains in my back and my whole left-hand side was experiencing pins and needles from head to toe. I was starting to get very worried by 9.30am, especially when my boss ordered me to go to A+E. Once there and after a explaining my symptoms to the receptionist, I found myself in the Medical Assessment Unit after a ten minute wait. Aren’t you supposed to wait for hours in A+E? This worried me more. Over the next few hours I was questioned by attractive nurses, hooked up to ECG heart machines, seen by several doctors (one of them was rather attractive as well, but had very cold hands), questioned some more, tested, x-rayed, jabbed with needles, poked and prodded (and not in a good way). Finally Suspected Acute Coronary Syndrome was mentioned to me. That sounds scary, I know. Especially when it means, “we think there’s something wrong with your heart, but we don’t know what it is!” By six o’clock I was starving hungry and devoured a salmon sandwich a good-looking nurse passed me. I watched with some amusement as the two other guys in the ward first complained about the lack of brown bread and then one refused to eat his chicken pasta dish, after pointing out that the pasta was rock hard and there wasn’t any chicken. I’d also picked out this rather unassuming pot of strawberry mousse. At first glance at the packaging I thought this would be a very clinical and tasteless mousse. Boy, was I wrong?! The contents tasted like a succulent milky strawberry ice cream. It was genius in a little white pot. I wanted more, but another doctor turned up at my bedside and told me that I’d passed all the tests and that there was nothing wrong with my heart. My complaint was more likely muscular! Thoroughly relieved and more than slightly embarrassed, I thankfully wondered off home without staying the night. I’m now receiving treatment for a trapped nerve in my back. I just wanted to thank all the staff at Selly Oak Hospital for looking after me and introducing me to this little gem of a mousse. I now acknowledge that not all hospital food is bad, but try to avoid the chicken pasta.