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My associate and I made it to Middlesbrough, and back again, in one piece.

In fact, it was a really ace weekend.

Really, really ace

Even though there weren’t any dragons, which I was fully expecting, that far North…

It’s raining SO HARD in Brighton again. I fear we may be swept away by the force of the downpour….

In fact, I *am* going to be swept away, because it appears that I am going on an Adventure to the North today, to watch men in red and white shirts kick a ball around on some grass and shout and cheer and generally pretend to be a BOY. I am leaving in about 30mins and I still haven’t finished packing my suitcase. Hmmmm. I have made a packed lunch for myself and my associate though I am very proud of myself.

I shall let you know if I make it to Middlesbrough and back again when I return on Sunday…if I do return…. Have a lovely weekend everyone!

For as long as I remember, I’ve had a problem with food.

A problem that runs deep, a long-lasting love/hate relationship with all the foodstuffs you can think of.

I will go into greater detail about this all another time, but for now, suffice to say that it took me SUCH a long time to say those three little words that most of us take for granted.

I. Am. Hungry.

I can say them, now, without fear, and without guilt, and I will one day soon be able to respond to that statement in a normal, human way.

I. Am. Hungry.

I. Will. Eat.

I. Need. Food.

Goodness. That’s enough for now. Little by little….it’s a long hard road out of the Hell that is an Eating Disorder…

On Tuesday morning I was rushed into hospital by my adorable housemate Miles because I was suffering from quite the most agonizing pain in my left side that I have ever felt. Ever.

After registering at the A+E department (yes, one has to register, even if one is about to keel over, going grey and sweating, like I was), we sat and waited til a nurse could see me, and then some time later, a doctor saw me. By this point, I was literally crying with pain, and actually getting quite scared that, well, that I might die. My vision was blurring, I couldn’t hear properly and I couldn’t do anything to alleviate the pain. The doctor examined me and finally announced that I needed morphine.

Well, fuck-me-sideways, that’s obviously a diagnosis and a half. Give the girl some fucking painkillers. It did work though, I have to say, but only after a trainee doctor had abused my left arm trying to get the IV drip needle into it so they could administer said hardcore painkiller. Ouch. As an aside, when they finally removed it two days later, I saw that it was a whole 4 inches long. *Faint*

Their initial thought was that there was something wrong with one of my kidneys. In order to clarify this, they decided to inject me full of Iodine and then x-ray me periodically throughout the day to see how the liquid travelled through my system. Cue me having to change out of my own clothes and wear TWO hospital gowns. Oh, how sexy I looked. They also declared me Nil By Mouth until further notice. I was wheeled around between the X-ray unit and the CDU (Clinical Decision Unit) more times than I care to remember, all the while feeling very odd from the painkillers and my lovely housemate trying to keep my spirits up (but, as he has now told me, getting more and more worried as no-one seemed to know exactly what was wrong with me, or indeed, how they were going to fix me).

Eventually, they said to me – Miss Hall, your left kidney appears to be entirely blocked and it is not working. I thought I was going to faint. They then went on to tell me all the lovely and diverse things that they could do to fix me – the next day. That meant staying in hospital all night

The last time I had to stay in overnight was when I was 11 and had my appendix removed. I wasn’t prepared for it really, but by this point, I didn’t really care. Miles bid me goodnight (and Tom did too, bless him, thanks for the Dragonlance book!) and I tried to sleep.

Sleeping in hospital is a really, odd experience. I kept nodding off dispite the pain, being woken up to take more pills, being wheeled around, listening to people snore, trying to read, thinking that one of the nurses was my auntie, and then waking up in a whole new place altogether – Chichester Ward (When Miles showed up the next morning and was told that I had been moved to Chichester, he almost needed a bed of his own to lie down on!) I was told that I would need surgery/didn’t need surgery/needed more x-rays. I decided to just let them get on with it.

The long and the short of this is – I apparently had a kidney stone, which has now gone, I didn’t need surgery in the end, and I spent two bizarre days in hospital.

I will be drinking a lot more water from now on

And what’s the best way of getting over a traumatic hospital experience? Going shopping with your Mum, taking it slow and discovering that the T-Chest, your fave t-shirt shop is having a buy 1 get 1 free sale – so you end up with 3 t-shirts with hot naked japanese chicks on them Oh, and a new skirt….and a new bag…and the 4th Sandman novel…YAYNESS.

What was I doing on this day 5 years ago?

I’d watched open-mouthed for 5 solid hours with my housemates and friends as the coverage of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Centre towers unfolded on our TV screens. I felt shaky, sad and unsure of what the future held…

What was I doing on this day last year?

I’d just been caught out text-cheating on my boyfriend and I was sleeping on the sofa, while the drama of the end of my relationship unfolded around me. I felt shaky, sad, and unsure of what the future held…

What am I doing today?

I’m watching “The Path to 9/11″ on the BBC, thinking of my friends and family, remembering the beautiful man that I’d been texting this time last year, musing on how much things change, and yet stay the same. I feel shaky, sad, and unsure of what the future holds…

Or do I?

No, I know what my future holds, and I know it will be OK. But now, just for now, I will cry, and find solace in my tears.

Tomorrow is another day.

Listen up you lovely bloggers!

If you are near a TV set tonight at around 6.30, please tune in to BBC2 to watch MY FRIEND Francesca, the over-excitable one who lured me into that photography lark, on “Extreme Dreams“, and tomorrow, thurs and friday too!

Go on, it will be ace. Plus, you might even get to see the building that I work in with her too.

Oh, and she’s got a blog, here on 20six

My brother has just driven away to go to University tomorrow – he’s going to study to become a Marine Engineer.

I’ve become used to him being in the house this last month, he’s been an invaluable friend, source of strength, a mirror in which to see myself and redress certain things I don’t like.  He’s been my coffee-companion, someone to watch movies with and someone to cook for.

I wish him all the luck in the world, but I am really, really going to miss him

Today, I have mostly slept, eaten some nuts and chocolate, and done the laundry.

It isn’t much, but it’s a start.

Clean bed-sheets are rather lovely.

My housemate Karen found a badge in the washing machine yesterday. We don’t know who it belongs to yet.

It is yellow and proclaims:

“Everyone pretend to be normal“

It made me laugh so hard I almost fell over. I am going to pin it to my school-boy hat and wear it with pride