The call.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with errands I could barely manage.

Dropping off my sick note at work.

Dragging myself into the city centre for my appointment at the dental hospital.

Heading back to the flat to pack a bag before flying home with Mum.

On any other day, these would’ve been relatively simple tasks.

But at that particular point in time?

They felt impossible – like trying to summit Everest.

The real low point came during a quick stop at Tesco before my appointment at the dental hospital. 

I spotted one of those grimy little step-stools they keep near the high shelves and, without even thinking, plunked myself onto it. There really was no decision involved. I simply couldn’t stay upright.

And to top it all off, I looked exactly how I felt – awful.

My hair was a mess; I hadn’t bothered with makeup; my clothes clung to me with the unnatural amount of sweat pouring from me. Honestly, I probably looked like an addict mid-withdrawal – but I’d hit the point where I didn’t even care. Let them judge. Nothing they thought could make me feel any worse.

It wasn’t until 4pm that everything really shifted.

We’d just arrived back at the flat, and I hadn’t checked my phone since before the dentist. (Which, looking back, was probably the biggest sign I was unwell – me voluntarily ignoring my phone for hours? Unheard of.)

As I collapsed onto the sofa, desperate for even a moment of calm, I glanced down and spotted the missed calls.

Each one from the GP surgery.

At that same moment, my phone buzzed in my hand – it was them.

The voice on the other end was brisk. Direct.

It was telling me I needed to go to the hospital –  immediately – and asked if I wanted an ambulance sent.

An ambulance? Why the hell would I need an ambulance?

Mum and Ben were staring at me now, waiting for some kind of explanation I couldn’t give.

I was dazed. Floating. None of it made sense.

Without a word, I just handed the phone to Mum and sat there, numb.

Why did I need a hospital?

What was going on?

I could hear Mum’s voice – calm but firm – trying to reason with them. “We have a flight booked. I’ll take her straight to hospital once we land. I promise.”

But it was clear:

There wasn’t going to be a flight.

There wasn’t even going to be a discussion.

The call ended.

Ben booked an Uber – Mum knowing better than to panic me with flashing lights and sirens.

And just like that, everything shifted.

We weren’t flying home tonight.

We were heading into the unknown.