A few months ago, I was ill with what seemed to me to be a gall bladder related problem - pain under the ribs and around the shoulder blade and vomiting. When I told Elder Daughter, I got the typical response, "Go to the doctor."
Do I really need to?" I asked.
"You'll be sorry if you don't and then you get a full blown attack," was the reply.
Why are doctors so bossy?
Well, according to the age-old wisdom that daughters should follow their mothers' advice and not the other way round, I didn't. I just hoped it wouldn't happen again. When it comes to ostriches and heads in the sand, I hold the gold cup.
Fast forward to last night, sitting at Dad's, watching television and becoming increasingly aware of pain under the ribs and around the shoulder blade. After downing a couple of gallons of Gaviscon, I gave in and announced that I was going to bed and that I would be fine after a good night's sleep. And so I would, I expect, if I had managed to get a good night's sleep. Instead, the pains got steadily worse, there was no chance of me finding a comfortable lying position and I soon lost count of the number of times I vomited. (Bet you really wanted to know that, didn't you?)
So after spending a night in which I increasingly doubted whether I would ever see morning - well, you know I'm prone to exaggeration but the thought did cross my mind - I got up this morning feeling somewhat better and well enough to drive home. Staying an extra day would have been awkward as I had a number of appointments arranged for tomorrow.
However, I have to reluctantly concede that Elder Daughter was probably right (OK she was definitely right) and I should pay a visit to the doc's. It's either that or live on dry toast for the rest of my life.
OK folks, so when your offspring tell you to do something, just do it!