Having now come down from the shock a little, I am in a much better frame of mind to detail events as I know them.

During the 6am routine patient check in the nuthouse, doctors found John out of bed and laying on the floor in a “Christlike position”. His back was flat against the rubber lino, his arms outstretched, and his legs folded together in an L shape and collapsed to the side. What wasn't so “christlike” was that in addition to having emptied his bladder, he had also lost control of his bowels. Doctors at first thought John was dead, but then he straightened his glasses, turned to one of them and said: “I can't feel my legs!”

After some initial checks by Maudsley staff, John was cleaned up, stabilized and taken to the nearby Kings college Hospital for further tests. All doctors seemed to be of the same opinion: there was nothing wrong with him. Not only did he fail all the reflex tests but his spine and neurological scans showed up normal. One nurse even claims to have seen him “slightly moving”. However, that all means nothing when the patient is adamant they cannot feel their lower body and when stood up and let go off they crumple to floor like the city's best wino. Absolutely bemused, Kings College put John in a corridor wheelchair and released him back into the care of the Maudsley. They concluded it was some kind of 'psychsomatic paralysis' which can sometimes be bought on by periods of “intense or heightened anxiety”. And that's all I know... I guess all anybody knows.

So John is still scheduled here tomorrow morning. Nurse O'flaherty says an ambulance will drop him off between 10.00 and 10.30am. It's not quite as planned, but at least he'll be here. I think more than anything I must just be grateful for that.

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