The car weaves right from momentum and angular acceleration.

My right hand grips the left side of the wheel feeling the resistance from the drive shaft in the tyres, grips and all with the brakes.

Left hand reaches for the gear to switch to fifth as my left leg slams down the clutch.

5th gear. The sun hasn't risen yet. Pump harder I will the fuel injection system pulled by the steel cable connected to my accelerator.

The feel of a manual.

It's fast. I've never driven like this before even if I was rushing. Utilising a copy of F1 driving style embedded in my head from watching F1 loads of times.

And the world bleeds to black.

I'm listening to the words of a prodigal.

My eyes are the equivalent of welded shut.

And the world bleeds to day.

I'm putting down my mug gently with my left hand and I'm expanding my throat to check for a sore throat.

No sore throat but I feel liquid running down it. Very light liquid but it tastes lightly of sodium.

I pour myself another mugfull and down it in less than 2 seconds.

It goes back to black.

I feel cold. I feel small amidst this throng of voices. I feel distant. I feel like I'm suddenly all alone in a totally white emptiness with no one around. But yet I hear the voices. And the voice of a prodigal.

The prodigal stops.

And I know it's my cue to begin.

I start talking. And I remember that morning in the car. I scared my passengers. Sarah commented about my driving and the other Sarah which is more used to my driving adjusted her seating position.

I think about how my driving has changed. And as I include it in what I say. I find myself slowing down.

Finally I stop.

My hands a symbol of completion and unity of skills when they're closed, split apart.

The day bleeds back to day. A pale morning. I'm hearing Henry comment about my driving and I'm watching the world whizz by as my memory goes into fast forward.

Back to the darkness.

I speak what it means with a forceful breath.

I bring my right hand to my face. I put my thumb on my right temple and my first 2 fingers onto my left temple.

I try to continue.

I can't.

I press harder.

I can't.

My mouth opens.

I still can't.

I close my teeth. And open wide my lips for more air. Looking like a bizarre grimace of pain.

I still can't.

I press harder with my fingers and I feel the frame of my face distort slightly under the force. My right arm goes numb.

I try to fight it harder. And I feel everything go numb as I give up. Everything feels numb and lightly pinpricked. Yet it's all cold but I feel comfort in this cold because it's not the same cold I learned everything in.

Looks like I didn't make it to the end of the year. I lost by less than 48 hours.

And a hand touches my left shoulder in the darkness. I barely feel it.

I pull my right hand away from my face and open my eyes for the first time in over God knows how long. And I realise the problem.

I concentrate, gathering air and restarting most of my muscles.

And I realise it's a problem.

My team musn't see this. My charges musn't see this. The people I'm training musn't see this. Jason musn't see this. My teachers musn't see this. My friends musn't see this. My close friend musn't see this. The people I support musn't see this. The people I renew musn't see this. The people I fix musn't see this. The people I repair musn't see this.

And I manage to fix myself. Hope does not die. We live on. We carry on in this work.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm good." and I felt like I really am. And I really am after all.