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There was something about my consultation with the Neurologist that made me think of a carry on film. There were no Barbara Windsor like nurses. It was lying on a bed, with my eyes shut, being told to be floppy while the Registrar banged below my knee to check my reflexes. Doctors do this for real! And he called the mallet a bangy thing. He also asked if I had diarrhoea, constipation, or what might be called persistent and unwanted male floppiness. This all added to the feeling that the consultation might be some elaborate hoax.

It was all mundanely low tech. He even measured my blood pressure with a mechanical device and took notes with pen and paper.

Despite this mocking, I felt he did a thorough job. He asked lots of questions, by no means all embarrassing, listened and took lots of notes. His conclusion was that there was nothing he could find wrong with me and that I should probably see a cardiologist.

He confirmed previous opinions that I had probably fainted rather than had a seizure. The facts that I neither bit my tongue nor wet myself seem crucial here. Also, and I checked this with the Doctor who looked after me on the ground, I wasn’t clammy or sweaty.

So, its back to my GP for a cardiologist referral. The Neurologist did also say that to be absolutely safe I could stop cycling until seeing a cardiologist. However, he stressed he wasn’t recommending this and thought the risk low.