... ooof ...
Sinking like a stone this morning, after such a dreadful night, it wasn’t until I saw the agitation of bees on the geranium through the back door that I felt as though a hand had lunged in after me to pull me up by the scruff of the neck preventing me from plunging ever deeper and disappearing for good into the depths. I had become panicky and wasn’t sure how to pull myself out and was starting down the road of logical inevitability. The industriously buzzy bees were just enough to make me think of taking a photo and to start the process of decompression.

I tried to think of various distractions and in the end headed off to do some chores and then drove with an objective in mind so that I’d be occupied with a purpose of sorts.

Realising how precarious things felt I set about sorting out a plan for tomorrow and am glad it has been possible to arrange. Not only that I think he’d be chuffed and would want to come too.

When I got to the hospital on Friday I had been sat with him for a little while, I can’t quite remember how it all happened but I think I got a nurse and in no time there was suddenly loads of staff around the bedside. The consultant rushed in and administered emergency treatment there and then. I could only look on in bewilderment. I was able to move in to be near his head. It was to be the last time I saw him before he was rushed to intensive care. I had to wait outside for a while and then the doctor warned me that when I next saw him he would be in a special breathing hood. He prepared me for the fact that some people aren’t able to tolerate them.