When I left hospital I was on eleven medications. Thank God these have been reduced to a dose that’s more manageable. I’m still on a cocktail of different meds and they can knock me about. I get slight dizzy spells, but there hasn’t been any return of the shakes or the inability to use my legs. Lucky Dad was there to help me out to the car. A calcium overdose almost killed me.

What people don’t understand is that the medications make me tired and lethargic. Sometimes I need a siesta, and they can leave me drowsy even during my waking hours. That side effect rarely seems to be taken into account. I feel like a burden if I mention it to others, since they’ve already been through so much with me over the past week. I have nothing planned for the day, yet I’d be woken for mum by someone opening the blinds and telling me to rise and shine. It’s not hugely dramatic, but there’s an expectation that I should be up and about in the morning.

My body clock is completely out of whack. I usually fall asleep before eleven and then wake at two, thirsty, or three in the morning. For me, that is the true start of the day. How people can sleep for hours every night and still wake up feeling refreshed I will never understand. I’m doing well if I manage three or four hours, and I’m content with those hours. I like having the world asleep around me and not being interrupted by anyone. I’m far more productive in the early morning—once I’ve had my first cup of caffeine, that is. It’s certainly better than the copious amounts of beer I used to drink all night and day.