The last time I went to a GP was in 1999. I was at university and I’d been troubled by a series of irritating heart palpitations which I put down to – well – I couldn’t give a fuck what they were down to, to be quite honest. I was 19 so they were hardly likely to be fatal.
But then they got a bit scarier and my lovely girlfriend-at-the-time, Claire, insisted that I Seek Medical Advice. So I did. Just to shut her up.
As it turned out, lovely Claire probably had a point as the GP sent me straight off to hospital for an electrocardiogram test and, when that wasn’t conclusive, an echocardiagram a few weeks later. And then more and more tests for about a year.