Pretty (ill) in pink

[The following entry has been typed by Owner as dictated by poppet, for reasons that will become obvious]

As mentioned in my last entry, the problems with my back have continued and reached something of a crisis point early this week.  On Tuesday, after bidding Owner farewell to work, I hobbled out to the garden, wearing my fluffy pink dressing gown and pink panties, to feed the birds.  As I was placing the bird food my back went completely and managed in agony to drag myself back to our ground floor flat and to our bedroom, where I collapsed on the bed and laid there unable to move and in terrible pain.  I was desperate to know what to do as I was truly stuck until eventually texted Owner (luckily I had my phone in my dressing gown pocket) to say I had a problem. 

Owner phoned straight back, at which point I blubbed like a baby and explained I couldn't move and was in excruciating pain.  This was at 8:00am.  My wonderful Owner dropped everything, jumped in a taxi and went back home.  She phoned the doctor to get one to come by but was advised there wasn't one available until at least 11:30.  Then tried the ambulance service, who, in effect, said ... as he's not dying we cannot come.  NHS Direct were no more use either. 

The hours ticked by, still no doctor came despite repeated calls by Owner.  Meanwhile all I could do was lie there and growl. 

Eventually at 3:00pm my wonderful Owner was able to persuade the ambulance that I was in agony and the doctor wasn't coming.  They sent round two people. Their professionalism was wonderful for the sight that greeted them must have been fairly hilarious.  I was lying face down, immobile, in my pink fluffy dressing gown, pink panties and (I'm quite proud of this fact) matching pink toe nails. 

After liberal use of Entonox, the crew were eventually able to get me on my feet so I could hobble out of the house into their waiting ambulance.  It is amazing to what extent shear desperation could cast aside any embarrassment or shame I might have felt about staggering across our street, in full view of our neighbours, in my fluffy pink finery, to collapse face down again on the trolley in the ambulance.

PS.  I should say at this point said that Entonox (laughing gas) is amazing stuff.

Upon arrival in A&E, my bright pink attire probably combined with my face down posture led to degrees of confusion amongst the staff.  A kindly nurse passing by, said ... "Don't worry sweetie, we'll sort you out".  Furthermore I was checked in as "Miss" rather than "Mister".

Plaudit goes to the medical staff that examined me for passing no comment (at least not within earshot) as to why it was I had on a pink fluffy dressing gown, pink panties and matching bright pink toe nails.  My only consolation being, that a few days back, Owner had suggested it would be a good idea that I removed my chastity device.

I'm now back at home, with Owner looking after me, spending much of my time flat on my back.  Owner has been a star through out, and the two good things that come out of this are:

a)  my inability to travel means that me and Owner will be spending Xmas together, when we usually spend it apart with our respective families

b) having exposed my panties to the world, I suspect I will be even less shameless when fully recovered

Merry Xmas one and all.