The Things I remember about today are...

The journey to hospital, praying there would be no hold ups on the road while simultaneously wanting to scream at David to set the sat nav to take us far, far away to a place where our boy was healthy, strong and pain free, instead of the pale, weak, suddenly frail and very sick young man staring at me with pleading eyes to make him better.

The kind faces and concern of the nurses as he was admitted to the Acute Medical Unit, as well as their gentle humour that made a horrendous situation slightly more bearable.

Alan being allocated a bed opposite a poor man who clearly had no idea where he was and kept trying to get out of bed, despite the fact he was unable to stand up.  

The feeling of relief when they finally got a canula into Alan to administer steroids directly into his blood stream.

The feeling of relief when he smiled at me as settled into bed and had a nap.

Saying goodnight before heading home, leaving both my boys behind.

Being home for half an hour and getting a call from David saying Alan had passed a lot of blood again and when the nurses saw it, the professional mood changed from calm to all systems go.  Consultant called, surgeon called, CT scan arranged.

A text coming in from Ed at that very minute asking after Alan and asking if there was anything he could do to help.  

Ed driving me back to the hospital.  Me talking light hearted nonsense on the 40 minute journey followed by heavy silences.

Arriving in the ward just as Alan returned from his CT scan.  

Sitting holding his hand, anxiously waiting for the results of the scan and the utter relief at being told the scan showed there was no need to rush in and do any surgery.  His IV steroid regime would continue and the Gastro consultant would review him in the morning.

Kissing my boys goodnight for the second time that evening.

Driving home with Christine, talking at a million miles an hour and feeling giddy.

Home to an empty house and feeling the giddiness drain from me and the weariness return.