Such a simple visualisation, but as I travelled the corridor I began to feel physically sick and frightened, this was not where I wanted to be.  When you’re skiing the nearer you get to the bottom of the ski run the faster you go as you pick up momentum.  This was what this was becoming.  I did eventually stop in front of the doors, very smooth, very clinical.  I hardly noticed the illness sign as I was so busy wondering how to open the doors without going in.  No such luck, one touch and they both flew open, there seemed to be nothing inside, a sort of green room with no features, windowless, bare, and yet as I looked I caught a glimpse of a bed out of the corner of my eyes. I did not want to look, but somehow I had to, yes it was my daughter’s bed as it had been when she died.  I wish I had not journeyed down this corridor as I know the way back will be full of sorrow.