I have (oh so politely "Um... excuse me... my wife& #39;s finding it difficult to breath, do you mind if we push in here? Thank you so much") jumped triage queues to get my wife in front of the A&E resus people who saved her after she suffered a respiratory arrest while they were…

checking in "Her fingers are blue..." ... "Her husband& #39;s just outside." "For christ& #39;s sake! Get him out of here!" and then, after a long time sat in a small room with a kettle and teabags, a consultant telling me that "your wife& #39;s heart stopped, we resuscitated her...

"... then we found her DNR order" and I& #39;ve never been happier that those to events happened in that particular order.
Gill tells me that dying like that was pretty peaceful… she was short of breath, then she wasn& #39;t there, and then, thankfully she was coming to on a ventilator…

… not exactly conscious, but not exactly unconscious either.

Well, it might be peaceful in the end, but it& #39;s FUCKING TERRIFYING if you& #39;re the one watching it happen, and the moments leading up to it as your breath fails you were damned scary too. It& #39;s no way to die. …

… both in isolation because of assorted comorbidities, but otherwise fine. I was just melting down about Boris& #39;s admission to ICU and feeling so devastated for Carrie.