THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING...

I was about to start by saying this was my first time in an ambulance, but I've just remembered I ended up in one back in 2018, when a panic attack so severe put me in hospital.

* But that was induced by my ex fiancé who went ape-shit at me. I got scared, ran away, he chased after me, caught me, thought he was gonna kill me, I passed out from fear- woke up in hospital. The end. (Actually, not the end- but that's content for my next book!)

Anyway- God bless the wonderful paramedic from the circuit who travelled with me all the way to PRU hospital in Kent, talking to me all the way. My grid sisters had run and got my bags for me and rested my phone on my stomach so I could answer my dad's calls en route. Although he was already up to date after Super Steph taking care of my phone, and me screaming my passcode at anyone who'd listen. I'm not sure how long the journey was as I was passing out with the pain, but I remember it being horrendously bumpy and chanting “Come on Mum!!” under my breath.

“You want to ring your Mum?”- asked the lovely paramedic.

“I can’t. She passed away in July. But I’m talking to her now, it’s ok.”

The poor guy probably didn't know what to say to this, yet somehow he found the words and I remember they brought me such comfort.

Out of the ambulance, onto some kind of stretcher/bed thing and into A&E. Which meant one thing... MOVEMENT. The Pain!!!

I kept my eyes firmly shut and wanted to die. But the bright lights and machine gunning questions woke me from my death wish nightmare, back to reality's nightmare.

“What's your full name Sophie?”

“What's your date of birth?”

“What are you allergic to?”

“Penicillin!” I shouted.

“And what happens when you have it?”

“Does it fucking matter??!” I screamed at my head. What kind of question is that?! Were they thinking of giving me some anyway as an experiment to spice things up a bit?!

“I inflate like a balloon.” I replied politely, as they continued to prod me, move me and wristband me up.

“What happened to your leg Sophie?” (I don't flippin’ know!)

More nurses / doctors arrived asking the same set of questions all over again..

“Can you reconfirm your date of birth?” (Is it really that hard to believe?)

“Allergies?”- Penicillin.

“What happened to your leg?!” ect. Answering them was such effort as right now, just breathing was hard. Then, for the millionth flipping time:

“COULD YOU BE PREGNANT?!”

At that point I snapped. Partly fuelled by gas and air.

“Listen guys, I've been single a long time and haven't been near anyone in ages, can you stop going on about it please?! And if I look bloated- it's all the gluten I consumed today.”

Once parked up alongside various other broken or bleeding people while I awaited an X-ray, I managed to hold my phone and share my location with best mate and utter legend Paul, and the wonderful Janais and Matt who were on their way. Thank God. I lay there whimpering until Paul appeared through the corridor, his phone gripped in his hand as he’d been following my pin all round the hospital like some kind of shit treasure map.

“Hey up mate!” he smiled. I just cried. A bit like you did at school when you'd fall over and graze your knees and the nice teacher hugs you.

I felt like I'd been waiting an eternity for this X-ray already.

“Leanne?” a scary looking male nurse boomed. Before I could answer, a very much in-one-piece blonde girl jumped up and trotted into the X-ray room. I've never wanted to be called Leanne so much in my life. When would it be my turn? My bone is still poking out of my leg here! I closed my eyes again.

“Sophie?” The same nurse boomed, moments later. He wheeled me in, aggressively barking “What did you do?” before being more rough than was necessary putting me on yet another hard, flat medical surface. MORE MOVEMENT! I cried with the pain before squeaking

“I don't know! I think I've broken my leg- or knee- or…”

I couldn't converse anymore but one thing's for sure, he was a hell of a lot gentler getting me back on the stretcher than he was getting me off it.

Back out to the ‘human car park’ where Paul was being my hero PA, phoning my dad who was stuck in North Wales and Janais and Matt who were seconds away. The fact they'd all had an absolute mission leaving the circuit in race day traffic, to then have battled their way to Orpington after an already 13 hour plus day, just to hold my hand and help in any way they could, made me cry with gratitude.

Then the fun began! And by that, I mean MORPHINE (and sadistically- more pain.)

There were no beds or cubicles to put me in, so they moved us all to a corridor which was the main throughway to A&E and right outside the frequently used disabled toilet… More on that later.

It was bothering me that my non-broken leg was also going numb at this point, until we realised that was because someone had literally dumped my massive Grid bag on top of it when I got to the hospital. So when I no longer had a litre bottle of water, a chunky pair of heeled boots, makeup bag, hairspray and stilettos weighing it down, it felt positively heavenly as the blood rushed back into it. But do you know what was more heavenly? Penthrox. The delightful little green inhaler pipe thing they'd given me to puff on! Now, I’ve never even done shisha or inhaled anything, so obviously I was coughing like crazy at first but I soon got the hang of it, and sweet Jesus- this stuff was great! This beats getting a sticker for being good at the dentist!

Always one to make the best of a bad situation, I decided to have some fun with it and jump on Instagram stories, documenting ‘Morphine Sophie’ while more importantly, letting everyone know in a mass way what was happening and I was indeed still alive. I rambled on introducing my new BFF: my Penthrox pipe, then getting Janais to pan the camera round so I could introduce her, Paul and Matt, whose name I promptly forgot.

“…And then we’ve got… Matt. Wait! IS IT MATT??!” I asked horrified, that I'd already forgotten his name after he moments before was responsible for me regaining blood flow in my leg when he moved my heavy bag. They all laughed though and from that moment on he became known as ‘Matt-is-it-Matt’.

I was having a weirdly nice time at this point, puffing away on my little inhaler, surrounded by good friends, and I genuinely started to believe they'd given it to me to simply amuse myself as a ‘”well done for being so brave” present. WRONG!

I was then whisked away to have my knee put back in place and my leg manipulated to resemble something like straight and set in the most enormous plaster cast you've ever seen. I have now learnt that in this situation when someone goes “OK Sophie- big deep breath for me please!” Nothing nice is about to happen to you! Unlike in yoga or your meditation practise. I couldn't tell you how many people were trying to hold my thigh back together while others rearranged my knee, but it felt like a lot. I lay there with my eyes tightly shut, breathing on command, dragging so hard on my little inhaler.

Then, I was moving again! No idea where to as I was too scared to open my eyes. Until I heard Paul, Matt and Janais’s voices. I was back in the corridor, reunited with my support crew! What legends. I was absolutely parched though and my mouth felt like I'd licked the ground! Could I have some water? Or some of the snacks in my bag? No, because apparently, I was nil by mouth as I was going to be operated on! Actual slicing me open scenario. Was this some kind of sick joke? At least I had my Penthrox pipe.

“Hey- can I get another one of these please?” I asked a passing nurse.

“No, we just gave you that while you had your leg put into cast, it will have run out about 10 minutes ago” she said.

WHAT?! So I've basically been puffing on thin air?! My eyes were very much open now.

“Well please can I have another one?” I pleaded.

“No, we can't keep you on that all the time, it's bad for your bone marrow. We normally just give it to women in labour.”

Is that another sick joke? I've broken the largest bone in my body which I now need to regrow, and you're giving me something that's ‘bad for my bone marrow’? Damn. This must be like giving a snowman a radiator… As much as he might like the feel of it, it's not good for him. Much like your toxic ex.