Day 1: A phone call in a Phnom Penh supermarket

I was in a supermarket in Phnom Penh. It was 11.30 am Cambodia time when my mobile rang. It was my mother and I remember thinking, "Silly, we arranged the call for the afternoon", when it hit me it must be 4 o'clock in the morning her time, and something was very very wrong.
My dad had had another turn. If the effects last for more than 24 hours, it's officially a stroke. He was paralysed down the left side but could still speak and was still mentally aware. She'd tell me more later but she had to get some sleep.
In a daze, I called my husband and ... continued shopping in the supermarket. What else could I do? I went back to the flat and that's when I started crying. How serious was it? Would I be able to get back to the UK in time to see him again? My husband immediately took control of the situation and organised our flight tickets, passport return (at the agents for visa purposes) and insurance, whilst trying to comfort me at the same time. It being a Sunday made things doubly difficult, but he was a star, and ran around the city managing everything.
Ironically, we had already bought tickets to return to the UK in August, and were already thinking of leaving our flat in Phnom Penh. "If you want to busy yourself," he said, "start packing". So inbetween sobbing incontrollably, I packed everything.
Later, I skyped my mum and brother. They were very upbeat - but I think that was more for my benefit. My dad was OK - still the same person. Just unable to move his left side. He was very grumpy about being in hospital but had had roast beef for dinner and liked that. He did have the indignity of wearing a "nappy" however. "Don't worry, don't cry, sweetheart," my brother said. He never calls me "sweetheart".
I didn't get much sleep that night. I felt sick and prayed to God to please let me see my dad, please help him get better. I realised that crying didn't help anybody. It was hard to stop, but I tried.