When I crack open my eyes, I’m swamped with a horrible sense of foreboding. Uh oh. I’ve been here before. I once had to read Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II at school where he gets a red-hot poker shoved up his bum. That is the only way I can adequately describe the pain that is currently shooting through my abdomen. Feeling grateful that Sophie has her own en-suite, I heave myself out of bed and into the bathroom where I make it to the toilet just in time.
Attempting to breathe through the waves of pain while simultaneously emptying my bowels is not something I can ever hope to accurately describe. It’s just a jumble of the worst things you could ever experience. When I finally think that it might be safe to leave the toilet and go back to bed, the cramps begin and once again I’m trapped
