A few months ago, I was sitting on a train platform at London’s Victoria station, chatting with a friend who had just bought a new, bright, new-fangled car, a Mercedes.
I had no idea it would turn out to be my future wife.
For the next few weeks, I would spend hours chatting to her about the wonderful world of Tarot, with the occasional conversation about her new car, which was still in a garage and still not in service.
But the moment she got off the train, she said, I knew she was going to have to go to the doctor, for something.
The idea of going to the GP for a medical condition that she had never heard of, was scary to me.
My friend and I had been married for almost 10 years, but I’d only just started going to appointments, so I didn’t have a GP yet.
So I knew what to expect.
“You’re going to be talking to your GP and you’re going straight into the surgery,” my friend told me.
I’d been dreading the idea of this, so my friend went along with me.
She called me over, and we talked through everything, including the possibility of having to have a CT scan.
We also discussed the possibility that I might be suffering from bipolar disorder.
And we discussed the fact that I’d recently found out that I had breast cancer.
She suggested we try to see someone else, but that it was probably best to wait a little longer.
“We don’t want to get into an emotional spiral here,” she said.
With the doctor on my side, and the doctor waiting in the waiting room, I sat on the edge of my seat and waited for the scan.
As I did so, I realised the enormity of what was about to happen.
That was a big shock to me, but at the same time, it was a relief.
After a few minutes of waiting, the doctor arrived and handed me a note.
‘I need to be very careful, because I need to know the risk of having this reaction to this drug,’ she wrote.
After this, I went home and thought about what had just happened.
A week later, I started to have flashbacks, as my brain tried to work out what had happened.
I was so relieved that I didn- I was relieved that this wasn’t something that was going into my heart.
What was going in my heart was the fact my wife was not going to go into surgery.
As a result, I had to get her to an urgent care centre, which I did in a matter of hours.
This was my first time in an emergency room in my life, so it felt very strange and scary.
I’m so lucky to be able to have this opportunity to help other people who have a medical problem.
Once I arrived at the emergency room, the nurse put me on the bed and told me to lay down on the floor.
I thought, Oh my God, I’m in for a shock.
I had never experienced anything like this.
I lay there, crying, for a long time, but when I got up, she was gone.
When I arrived home, I found that my wife had been given the drug called ritonavir, which is an antibiotic, but it was also causing her to lose the ability to think and communicate.
It was like I’d never been back to my house before.
I didn?t know how I would react, and I felt so helpless.
I felt like an outsider.
My wife also told me that she needed to go for an appointment, and she had to come back at 3:00pm, so she’d have to stay at home with her parents.
I said, You know what?
It?s not like I’m worried about my wife.
She didn?nt have to do it, and then she was told she was fine to go home at 3am.
But it was really tough to feel like you didn?
t know what to do.
On the way home, we talked about what to tell my family, and that’s when I realised what was going on.
At home, my wife would be so relieved to know that I was OK, but her emotions were so intense that she was afraid to talk about it to me at all.
Because she was so desperate, she would not tell anyone about the situation until she had a scan.
At the end of the week, I felt extremely sad because I was trying to be supportive to my wife and be as positive as possible about what was happening to her.
But my wife wouldn?
t tell me what to say, and even then, I didn?’t want to.
She had to make her own decisions about what she wanted