Page 97 of Take a Moment

‘OK, sure. I’d really appreciate having my iPad. Maybe some more comfortable clothes. Also, my toiletries bag in the bathroom is the one I use when I swim. It’s got everything I need in it.’

‘Not a problem. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Chin up. This will pass.’ She gives my hand a squeeze, before heading out of the ward.

Once she’s gone, it’s not long before unhelpful thoughts start to plague me. Danielle has really messed things up. Though I seem to have everyone’s support, they’re all going to see me differently now, probably even treat me differently. While this huge worry is taking up space in my mind, a big bubble of sadness is also competing for space. My career has been compromised, but Matt’s gone from my life for good. Memories of our time together flood my mind: our first date; the walk in the woods; all the other amazing meals out and nights in since. The way he kissed me, his touch, those eyes. Now, all gone as if it never happened. It’s all too much to bear. I pick up my phone and dial Sasha.

I have very little sleep overnight: partly due to the constant noise of the ward and in part because of the vast feeling of emptiness that’s been gnawing at me since my break-up with Matt. I’m also very worried about how long it’s going to take me to get back on my feet and how I’m going to manage on my own once I’m discharged from hospital.

I’m taken for my MRI scan around nine a.m. and then delivered back to the ward. The exhaustion finally overcomes me, and I sleep into the early afternoon. I’m not long awake and am picking at my lunch when a petite middle-aged woman with long dark hair pulled into a ponytail enters the room.

‘Alex? Good afternoon, I’m Dr Kasani. How are you feeling today?’

‘Much the same, unfortunately,’ I reply.

‘Can you tell me what happened yesterday? And a bit more about what symptoms you’ve been experiencing?’

I give her a comprehensive run-down, which she listens to intently. She’s very focused. There’s no peripheral chat.

‘Do you mind if I do some physical checks?’ she asks once I’m done.

‘Of course.’

She performs the same tests I experienced while in hospital in Glasgow and several times after that during my outpatient appointments. Some of it is painfully difficult given my current predicament.

‘OK, Alex,’ she says eventually. ‘I think I’ve put you through enough for now. I have good news for you.’

‘Oh?’

‘From reviewing your MRI scan and listening to your description of your symptoms, I do not think that this is a relapse.’

‘What?’ I look at her in confusion. ‘If it’s not a relapse, whatiswrong with me? Because this is not normal.’

‘You have a viral infection – probably one of the winter bugs that’s doing the rounds – which, I believe, has exacerbated your existing symptoms.’

‘Are… you sure? I can’t get out of bed. I can barely move. And I don’t really have a sore throat or anything.’

‘I am quite sure. These viruses come in many guises. You are running a fever, so my guess is a flu-like illness. Your MRI scan also shows no change from the last one. All this suggests to me this is not a relapse.’

‘So, once the virus runs its course, I’ll be OK?’

‘I expect you will be back to how you are normally. But it might take a couple of weeks. You must also contact your doctor if you do not recover in this timeframe, but I would be very surprised if this were the case.’

As I take all this in, it’s like I’ve been handed my life back. ‘Thank you, Doctor. You’ve no idea how good this news is.’

‘I have delivered this message many times over, so I have a fair idea.’ She gives me a warm smile. ‘We are going to keep you in for two to three nights to monitor your progress. I would also like you to see our occupational therapy department while you are here. My understanding is that you do not have a care plan in place. Creating one will help you cope better when a similar situation arises in the future.’

‘That’s fine. One thing I like in life is an effective plan.’

‘I will get that organised then and hopefully the unit will see you tomorrow. I will also arrange for you to have the annual flu vaccination to reduce the risk of these events in the future. A serious flu can trigger a relapse, so we wish to avoid that where possible.’

‘Sure. Thank you. I think the doctor in Glasgow did mention that but I must have forgotten about it.’

‘It is a lot to take in when you are newly diagnosed. Now, please can I ask you to have a think about who might be able to offer you some support? We cannot discharge you until we know you have someone to help you manage, or that you can manage yourself; you are a bit away from that. I will pop by tomorrow to see how you are getting on.’

Dr Kasani lifts the folder at the end of my bed and scribbles down some notes, then gives me a quick nod and moves to the bed two down from mine for her next patient consultation.

I lie back and close my eyes, letting the reality of the situation sink in. It’s not a relapse. Hopefully it means I can get back to work in a couple of weeks, rather than a few months as I had first feared. But my positivity is short-lived as the other developments of the last twenty-four hours creep back into my consciousness. With Danielle having stuck the knife in and given it a damn good twist, what kind of work environment will I be going back to? One like it was back in Glasgow? Emmanuel won’t remove me from my role, I’m confident about that. But what about everyone else?

And that’s just work. I’ll no longer have Matt to brighten my evenings and weekends – or the band. Wonderful, gorgeous Matt. With whom I now realise, without doubt, I have fallen completely in love. An empty, sick feeling develops in the pit of my stomach.

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