I was subjected to a barrage of tests, some painful, some just plain embarrassing. I was x-rayed, endoscopied and catheterised. Eventually, the doctor arrived at his conclusion, and told me I could go home next day. He handed over a prescription.

"Rub this on three times a day, and I think you'll find all will be well," he told me. I was so relieved it was all over I forgot about the three days lost from my life, and began to celebrate the fact that I would live again. When I went to the bathroom, I peered anxiously at my prick and found the rash had gone - spontaneously cured. Happy, I returned to my bed in a little single room off the main ward, and watched TV, waiting for the evening meal, sleep, and escape next day.

About nine o'clock the door opened, and the night nurse came in. She had done this every night I had been in here, but before I had felt too miserable to take much notice. Tonight I felt fine, fully able to appreciate the blue dress and white apron and cap, the black stockings, the nice legs, the cool hand on my brow.

"So, you are away tomorrow are you?" She smiled. "Glad to be escaping?"

"Yes, on the whole," I replied, "although there are some people I'll miss."

"Oh yes? Like who?"

"Oh, that nice Doctor Smith. And the day charge nurse. And the lady who cleans the ward. And the porter..."

"You'll be getting a blanket bath if you're not careful," she laughed. She straightened the covers, and went to the door.

"They're sending a prescription down later. I'll be back when I see what treats they have in store for you." She smiled, and was gone. I put on some earphones, tuned to the classical music programme, and was soon lost in the music.

At 10 she returned......(cont)