AISLE BE THERE

Pulling into the drive, I switched the car off and put my hand to my head. Rubbing my temples, I groaned to myself.

It was 2011, I was 21, and in the middle of my nursing training.

Now, after a long day, I had a splitting headache.

‘What do you want for your tea, love?’ my mum Pat, now 59, called as I plonked my handbag just next to the front door.

‘I’m not really hungry Mum,’ I sighed, walking into the kitchen.

But as soon as I walked into the room, a rush of pain hit me in the head, as if I’d run into a brick wall.

The worried face of my mum became blurry in front of me, and I suddenly felt incredibly nauseous.

‘Are you alright?’ Mum asked, her voice sounding so distant.

‘My head’s