I suffered from Gallstone Pancreatitis a few years ago. It's a nasty condition where you literally vomit up every sip of water you take and everything else too; all day every day. After about three days of not being able to keep a single thing down you are practically on your knees you are so weak. There is nothing that can be done other than to be admitted into hospital where you are given intravenous drips of antibiotics and fluids. I had to be admitted to the Female Surgical Ward on seven separate occasions within a few months. I needed to have my gallbladder removed, but because it had developed into Gallstone Pancreatitis, it was a Pancreatic surgeon who was going to perform the surgery. I live in Northern Ireland. There are only two Pancreatic surgeons in the whole of Northern Ireland. So it was a case of waiting. Waiting for my turn , but also waiting to see if the Pancreas would eventually settle down and stop becoming inflamed. It did, eventually thankfully. My GP surgery is literally over the road from where I live. I had been to see him once before during this period of illness. He told me that next time I take ill, to get myself over the road to him, and he will book me a bed by referring me as an emergency. So this particular morning, when I had literally not stopped vomiting for about six hours, so something nasty and black was coming up, I dragged myself over the road to the GP's surgery. Vomited all over their corridor floor, then again in the bathroom. He booked me in to the local hospital. They told me to try my very best to pack a bag and to make my way to the hospital where a bed was waiting for me. When I got there they had to do then formality of taking my bloods. My bloods were always what they called "Deranged". Once when I turned up to A and E with a vomiting bout they couldn't admit me as my bloods were normal. I pleaded with the doctor to admit me but he said he was sorry but he couldn't because my bloods were normal. I went the following day with my bag packed and the same doctor was working. He recognised me from the day before. My bloods were taken again and this time they were "Deranged" and I was taken straight up to a surgical ward. No waiting around. Sometimes if there was no room on the Female Surgical Ward I was put on the Male Surgical Ward. I didn't mind. I had a room to myself with its own bathroom and a TV. What i'm trying to say is, if you're poorly enough you will be seen right away and prioritised. And that's exactly the way it should be. Had my gallbladder removed about seven months later. Woke up with 28 staples across my abdomen. He had to fully open me up to get a good look at the Pancreas as well as removing my gallbladder. Thankfully by the time I had my surgery my Pancreas had returned to its normal size. But I have one hell of a scar. People who have seen it say, "What on earth did you have removed?" When I tell them it was just my Gallbladder they don't believe me.