Throwing my bag in the boot, I hugged my friend goodbye.
It was December 2018 and I'd been staying at hers for the weekend, seeing a gig.
Aged 30, I was single and, when I wasn't coaching gymnastics for work, I loved seeing pals, hitting the town, making the most of life.
Now, though, driving home to my mum Peggy, then 58, and dad Gordon, 58, I felt rough.
A case of the flu, I thought, as my head pounded.
By the time I arrived a few hours later, I felt even worse.
Mum and Dad were at work so my grandparents popped by to check on me.
‘We're taking you to hospital,’ my grandma Martha, 82, said, taking one look at me, curled up in my parents’ bed, shivering.…
