...but I don't remember much of it at all.
Brief burst of light as I'm taken out and them run 'round another maze of corridors as we get into the BRI.
Slight delay as Darren (ambulance paramedic) hands me over. People come and go, glance at my monitor, charts, bottle and then I'm ordered to be hauled away to "resuss".
This 'aint clever. Sign on the door reads "Resuscitation".
It's horribly quiet in here. 'Specially considering the number of people clustered around two of the other beds. It's difficult to see if there's any occupants in there what with all the kit and people around but whatever's happening, it's way beyond the rushing in and out and yelling stage. Just a lot of people having terse conversations and making reassuring noises to the shapeless bundles that they're working on - things too far gone to do anything other than make slight, liquid noises by way of reply.
I really don't want to be here.
Someone's in, looks at my monitor, looks at me and apologises about the surroundings. Seems like I'm a lot more alert than most of the people they get in here, but it's "the best place" for me to be at the moment.
Don't like this place.
Guy materialises at the end of my trolley, geared up for the Operating Theatre. He's Radjec, and explains very, very clearly that they know what's happened to me, how my body's reacted as a result and because they know all this, they can and will make me better. He's pretty direct as he tells me in no uncertain terms that they can fix me, he just needs to wait a little while to see what's happening after my trip up from Weston and then he'll make his mind up.
OK, I can deal with this.
My parents and Jules are ushered in to see me.
So I lied about being able to deal with this.
I DON'T WANT TO DIE IN THIS PLACE. GET ME OUT NOW.
Not sure if I thought that or said it. Doesn't stop it from being true though...
