Well, things got a bit bleak there for a while.
You probably remember from my last few posts, that the hospital doctors thought it might be nicer for me to spend a few days back at home with my family while I waited for the MRI scan.
My saintly husband drove all the way to Addenbrookes after he finished work and drove me the 130 miles home. By the time I got back I felt terribly nauseous, despite the medications and by midnight I started to vomit. I was sick every twenty minutes or so all through that first night and all through the next day. By that evening I was practically delirious, and I couldn't get out of bed, let alone down the stairs.
I spent all of the next day in bed, unable to get down the stairs, too weak to even have a wash.
My husband phoned the hospital, frightened that my bowel might be totally obstructed and dangerous, so they told him to bring me back. The problem was, my bed had of course been filled and there is no bed manager over the weekend. All I could do was go to A&E and they would admit me from there.
So, here I am, back in a hospital bed, feeling a million times better than I have for the past few days.
You always know you're really sick when you're actually glad to be an in-patient!!