I slept over the course of about 12 hours last night. I had a bit of a break around 3.30 - you should take a break if you're having a marathon of a sleep. For the first time since I found myself afflicted with whatever it is that has been afflicting me, I felt a little optimistic about it. It comes down to breathing.

I'd decided to torture myself with food before turning in. I know you shouldn't go to bed on a full stomach, but with a stomach complaint, there's nothing you can do comfortably on a full or empty stomach, so it made no difference. I made myself a couple of sandwiches with the rather diminutive loaf of bread I'd bought from the shop on the way home. How the mighty have fallen. I like a nice hearty sandwich, on thick cut full size slabs of lovely bread. These wee slices looked like they belonged at a doll's tea party. I adorned them with slivers of tomato and some cranberry, as well as a tiny bit of chicken. I then ate them, gingerly, waiting to see whether I'd explode.

I didn't explode.

Around 9pm, in bed, I discovered something. I could breathe. I could breathe in without the pain I was used to getting. This emboldened me somewhat. I suspect that I've either run the course of the "attack" that started on Thursday morning last, or perhaps the pill I took at lunchtime had started having an effect. Either way, I was pleased to have a bit more comfort and get some shut eye.

At 3.30, after a rather bizarre dream about being involved in a road accident late at night on a twisty road in Ireland, with a mate sleeping in the passenger seat - it was my fault, I didn't see the tight corner coming and we slid down a muddy bank into someone's garden. Again, that was a dream... I got up and gulped down a glass of water. I haven't gulped anything down in quite some time. I then lulled myself back to sleep with the promise of getting my oats in the morning.

And this morning, after rising, gingerly (a lot of ginger is involved in illness) and finding that I could still breathe deeply without the pain, I did the washing up and had the aforementioned oats. A small quantity of porridge goes a long way. The ability to fill one's lungs with a nice deep breath is also a boon. Go on. Do it now. Take a deep breath. It feels good don't it!?

My stomach still ain't happy, but I'm not feeling like a pessimistic starved fool at the moment. I have to take it carefully over the next few weeks and see what happens and it will be difficult for me to be moderate with my intake of food, but I know what will happen if I'm reckless.