A bit of an essay.
When I was 17 (mid 1980s) I was off NI form with tummy ache. Dad at work, brother at work mum went for an a morning nap.
I got up to walk to another room and collapsed in pain, I managed to crawl back to the chair and tried to wake her up by shouting. It was about 12.00 noon.
Eventually she wakes up and comes downstairs and I tell her I need a doctor, she tells me to take a paracetamol and go to bed. IU told her I couldn't get to bed and needed a dr. I thought I was going to die because whatever was causing the pain wasn't being treated.
This went on and on with her getting mote and more exacerbated with me 'refusing' to do what she said.
My brother came home, got changed and went out to his second job.
Eventually my dad came home and he, and this is the only time I can remember him not siding with her, called the Dr.
The Dt arrived, took one look at me and asked where the phone was to call an ambulance.
He (Dr) managed to examine me while waiting for the ambulance.
The ambulance crew walked in and made a comment about me being green. I had jaundice.
Obviously she then had to be the one in the ambulance with me, interrupting the paramedic to ask him to turn the blue light on.
Long story short my gallbladder being cut up with stones so I did not die, I just had a week in hospital.
But after this I was told, "you have no idea how I felt, in that ambulance, it was terrible for me'.