Haddon Willmer recommends this feature by Dawn Foster, a Guardian columnist. The first paragraph is reproduced below
“Have you written a will?” my doctor asked, matter-of-factly, while taking my blood pressure last Saturday, in the same tone you’d use to ask someone whether it was raining outside. To a 30-year-old, outwardly healthy woman, the question felt odd. But I was leaning against the wall for support, having woken that morning crumpled in the well of my shower, choking on soapy water with no immediate memory of how I had got there, my head and ribcage feeling wrenched apart by an all-consuming pain. Speaking to paramedics over the phone had proved a challenge as my verbal skills were decimated, and holographic lights floated across my field of vision, turning the banal familiarity of my bathroom into an experience akin to a child’s kaleidoscope toy.