St John's - Day Eight

So far, today has been a bit of a bomb.

My Man didn't sleep well last night. What began as a twinge in his shoulder as we went to bed, escalated through the night to the point where even lying still was agony. I thought maybe our double bed was just too small for the pair of us, so moved into the twin spare bed around 3am, but the extra room didn't seem to help him - by 4:30am he was in the shower, hoping heat would help relieve the pain - and by 6:30am we were hailing a cab on the street, heading to the local emergency room.

The thought of a St John's emergency room on a Sunday morning after a Saturday night was daunting - but when we arrived there wasn't another soul in the place. This is my Man, gazing in dismay at the waiting room television, which is blaring CNN at a very un-Sundaymorningish volume.



We only waited about ten minutes for a check-in session, and then another fifteen or so to see the doctor - who couldn't find anything wrong.

He gave my Man an injection, and then a prescription for some muscle relaxants and that was that. Unfortunately, there was no pharmacy in the hospital - and at eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, no local pharmacies are open - so we staggered out into the morning and wandered vaguely in the direction of our B&B.

There was not a taxi to be found, and it didn't seem that we were too far from home....but then it started to hail...and then we realized we were kind of hungry....but what's open on a Sunday morning before 8am? The local Tim Hortons! We headed in that direction, thoughts of eggy breakfast sandwiches spurring our steps.

On our way, we passed a 24-hour restaurant - so we took the chance and went in. We should have held out for Tim Hortons. Nothing on the menu appealed to my Man, but we'd committed so we had to order something. I won't tell you what we ate (I'm too embarrassed), but it was revolting. Pretty much what you'd expect from what was basically a pub that stays open 24 hours.

Back on the street, the hail had turned to rain. We started passing all manner of lovely, cozy-looking restaurants, just open at 8am on a Sunday morning.

Fifteen minutes later, soaked and tired, we were back home and back in bed.

It's now 2pm and the sun is out.

We are off to the pharmacy.