In my previous journal, I mentioned that I had been dealing with some stuff last week. So, I'm writing this journal, both to get what happened out of my head and written down, which I think might be good for me, and for the benefit of those who don't follow my twitter and don't know, or had questions that this might answer. Here's all the grisly details...

It started just over a week ago now, on Saturday the 21st. I suppose technically it started the evening before, when I began getting unusually short of breath doing simple everyday things. But at the time, I thought it was just my asthma acting up a little.

However, it was the Saturday morning when shit hit the fan. I got up that morning and the shortness of breath was still there, but with a new wrinkle: I started coughing up blood. Which was immediately extremely worrying. I called an NHS helpline and made an immediate emergency appointment to see a doctor.

I headed out, expecting to be gone for a few hours, just to my appointment and back again. It would actually be a while before I would go home again.

On the way to my appointment, I took a turn for the worse. I hadn't got very far from home before my shortness of breath became very bad and turned into severe breathing difficulties. I was gasping for breath and a little afraid I might pass out in the street. So, I stopped where I was and called myself an ambulance.

They arrived quickly and put me on oxygen and started doing some basic tests, before taking me to hospital. I would end up being in hospital for about five days or so.

Once in hospital, there were blood tests, a chest x-ray and eventually a CT scan. It all led to the discovery of what was wrong: a pulmonary embolism. Which basically means blood clots in the lungs. In my case, there were two clots, one in each lung, located in the main arteries.

And yes, it is as serious as it sounds. At one point, a doctor did tell me that if I hadn't got medical attention as quick as I did, it could have been fatal. This thing could have fucking killed me. That is a scary thought that I've been trying not to think about too much.

Because the important thing is, I did get the medical attention I needed. I was kept on oxygen for days and started on the necessary medication for the clots, as well as a course of antibiotics. They took blood daily to run various tests to see how I was progressing. At one point, they did a scan of my heart to ensure no damage had been done by the clots (there was none, my heart is fine).

What might have caused the embolism remains a bit of a mystery. After all the numerous tests and being asked an enormous number of questions about my life, the doctors didn't seem to know how this happened.

Anyway, after just over five days, I was well enough to be allowed to go home. Which felt fantastically good, to be able to finally leave the hospital and relax at home. Since then, I have been taking things easy, continuing to improve, trying to just rest and recover and rebuild my strength.

I'm still on the medication, twice daily injections, and will be for at least three months, probably longer, so that's something I've been getting used to. But at least I don't have to worry about work for a bit, I've been signed off work for the next several weeks while I recover.

So that's what happened. It was a hell of a week, the events of which are probably going to continue to have an impact on my life for some time to come.

But rest assured, I am fine now, there's no reason to worry. I'm doing well and recovering nicely.