Thank God it's Friday
Sunday I'm still throwing up and the pain in my head makes me scared to move. I'm taken to hospital where I'm examined by Jag, a doctor whose age I estimate would place him in Year 12. Jag calls for a second opinion. Nicola is very efficient, as you'd expect from someone who looks nearly old enough to vote. I have a blood test and am sent for a brain scan. The result is negative, but I'm kept in overnight for observation.
Monday Training day. I'm given a lumbar puncture. Result: positive. I have definitely had a head bleed. The neurologist tells me I'm to have a cerebral angioscan to look for an aneurism. This involves a tube being inserted into the artery in my groin, then pushed to the base of my brain. Dye is sprayed on to the brain nd X-rays taken. It could cause a stroke or death. "Please sign the consent form." I sign.
Tuesday School restarts while I'm cleaned up and my groin is shaved. It really is true. They do stick a narrow tube into my groin and keep pushing and pushing. The procedure lasts an hour. The neurosurgeon tells me I'm lucky. They've not found an aneurism.
Wednesday I am allowed to sit up for the first time in three days and use the toilet instead of a urine bottle. My drip is removed and I sample hospital food for the first time. Quiche made with sun-dried tomatoes; it tastes wonderful.
Thursday I am told that I must have a magnetic resonance angioscan in a few weeks. This will give me the final all clear. In the meantime I can go home.
Friday I assume that someone who has had a non-aneurismal sub-arachnoid haemorrhage will get to choose what to watch on the television. No chance.
The author is the headteacher of a secondary school in Warwickshire. He hopes to return to school after half-term