At the beginning of the week on the Ward, Alex was easily convinced I had respiratory failure caused by a nasty infection, which had lingered for months, hence all the nee-naw drama. Alex liked to believe what I told him, it was an efficient way to coexist and not go mad. He expressed most concern for the awful Hospital coffee and offered to rig up a Nespresso machine on my nightstand until we were all back to normal. He loved normal. He had packed my bag and also perched the photo of us all at Santa’s grotto on the Hospital nightstand, a large laminate thing that beamed and was flimsy beside a wicker basket that once belonged to my mother. In the picture we look happy, holding plastic flutes of mulled wine and the children with paper pots of marshmallows and strawberries dribbled over with warm milk chocolate. And though he was upset at first that the children couldn’t visit, I countered it by saying I’d be terrified they’d contract the same woeful hack as myself, and begrudgingly, he agreed.

Though I refused the coffee machine as I think Nespressos are for bell ends that drive Land Rovers in cities and eat avocados with poached eggs and turmeric.

New mail. Ping. Inbox.

Seven Ways to Boost your Metabolism

‘You not getting out of bed, should lie down, lie down, good … good … do you want me to take you somewhere?’ Michal asked me.

one – power up with protein

‘Where?’

‘Wherever you like, oh, but it’s so rattling. So not good. You need sit up, or get some air? My, my, it would worry me if it was my chest rattling as yours.’

It did worry me.

two – fuel up with water

‘Lave her be,’ Margaret Rose said, ‘she isn’t even fit far a walk to the loo.’ She motioned at me to lay back on my pillow as she took a few deep breaths, encouraging me to imitate her.

three – Go on top while having sex and work those abdominal muscles

Margaret Rose began another decade of the rosary as she picked up her phone and squinted at the screen, and then dropped it down hard on the table-tray, anxiously awaiting some communication. She repeated the action.

four – park away from your destination, walk a little, cardio surge, work the heart

When I was a kid I tied a grocery-shop plastic bag in a crude knot at the nape of my neck, tight. I held a pen in my hand to see how long I could withstand it, before I’d need to stab it and take in air quickly like the junkie scenes on Casualty, pen through windpipe.

Bang.

It grabbed my mother’s attention for the day. She banned me from watching Casualty.

five – drink iced water every hour

I watched as our nurse, Molly Zane, changed incontinence pads and injected my Ward friends. Their shadowy grey hips stacked on top of each other, milk-udder catheters, black eyes, rasping chests, hollowed-out shoulders.