Coffee and a heart complaint

It can’t be good for me, but six cups of coffee before noon, and a bottle of caffiened pop after noon makes for a standard day for me. Add to that anywhere from five to twenty-five cigarettes, depending on the level of pissed-off-ness, and you have my staple diet. I’m 30 soon. Health is beginning to be a more serious consideration. And I have to stop this pain in my chest.

Panic struck recently when my coffee maker was deemed beyond repair. Leaving old coffee inside whilst I went to Las Vegas for three weeks didn’t help. When I got back there was a kind of green new world forming inside. It had to go.

I tried stealing my housemate’s coffee maker. This worked until a veiled reluctance to let me carry on began to emerge from behind his fake smile. This plan had to go too. Then my girlfriend came up with a good plan. Buy another! Excellent. And she did.

But where was I? Yes. I still have to cut back. Strange things are happening in my chest which isn’t helped by cigarettes. I need to see a doctor.

This is never easy, particularly after you’ve moved. When I first got to London I had to be forced onto one surgery which claimed to have no room left for more sick people. They took me eventually but I could see in their faces each time I went that the mere site of me disgusted them. I was like the adopted son they’d grown to hate.

So, I returned fire. Probably not a good idea but it was the same thing every time. So I made it a point to arrive each time like I’d been called in to handle an emergency; barking orders and looking serious. Didn’t work though.

So yes. I need to get a Streatham doctor. He’ll tell me to cut back on caffeine and quit smoking. I don’t really need him to tell me this. I have better people to do that for.