Over the coming days a routine has been established.

During the night my husband would scream,in the morning he would fight,in the afternoon sleep.The various tests the doctor wanted him to have were postponed,this included the very important brain scan.Day after day I would sit by his bed,watching him sleep.Then he would have a cup of tea and a sandwich I had brought. What are you feeding him at home, the nurse asked,he refuses to eat saying it is awful,rubbish.You must be a very good cook. I am not,I said truthfully. I would bring cakes, biscuits,fruit,anything that didn't need heating up because by the time he woke up the kitchen would be closed. I want to go home,he would say every day. When can I go home. Soon,darling,soon,as soon as you are better. What is wrong with me.I am well,look and he would raise his arms up like a fighter to show how strong he was. When the doctor says you can go home,then I will take you home. Which doctor? Are you a doctor,he would ask any-one passing by,another patient,a cleaner,a cook.Can I go home now? Watching him,listening to him was tearing me apart. And when the time came to kiss him good-bye he would scream and scream and scream.