How I learnt to stop worrying and love the hospital – The Isis

It wasn’t until I nearly bled out on the couch on a random Thursday night that I’d realised the severity of what had been happening to me over the past three months. On the television, a film about Sir Nicholas Winton (that adorable old man from the viral video who saved a bunch of Jewish children from Czechoslovakia during World War II) caught my attention; on my phone, a one-hour “Gordon Ramsay Best Insults” compilation (shoutout to the intern who revived that YouTube channel) drowned out other silence. The combined distractions did a wonderful job of blocking out most thoughts—except for: “Wait, why is there a red puddle forming underneat…