The show must go on

Chapter 29 - back on the road

I keep trying to convince them to go out, explore the city, go clubbing, have fun, let off steam. I try to make them understand that they don't have to adjust their routines, their whole lives, just for me. That I'm fine without all the fuss about me and Perrie never leaves my side anyway. That they can go out without immediately bringing any germs with them. But no one wants to listen to me.

"We are a family. And one of our family members is sick and needs our support to get better. So shut up and let us try to help you," Claude told me once and I was a bit surprised by his clear words.

That's exactly what everyone seems to be doing. They try everything to help me somehow. So much so that it often becomes too much for me. I am so touched and grateful for everything they do for me that I don't dare say that sometimes I would rather be alone or that all the fuss around me makes me uncomfortable. That sometimes I would rather just forget than be constantly reminded that I am sick. I know it's a lot to ask. After all, everyone has seen my heart stopping on stage, everyone has been waiting for me to wake up. I'm asking a lot of them. No one here deserves that, that constant stress and worry, when touring is actually the time of the year when we all really come alive. I constantly feel guilty for all the trouble I cause anyway. The least I can do is scale back my desires a bit and allow them all to want to take care of me.

At the weekend we played the first show in the UK, where the last leg of the tour is taking place. Birmingham was quite a success and today we were due to leave early in the morning by bus up north, to Glasgow. The alarm was set for seven o'clock so we could get on the bus at eight. That was the plan. But plans have become difficult to follow.

I've been up since 5:30am, woken by nausea and cramps. I tossed and turned and managed to concentrate for at least an hour so that I didn't throw up and that Perrie next to me wasn't woken up either. But that changed when the first wave just needed to come out. I thought for a second about going to the bathroom, but I would never have been that quick, so the bucket placed next to the bed had to do, which of course immediately startled Perrie.

"Go back to sleep," I croak out, but she just rubs her eyes sleepily and moves closer.

"How long have you been awake?" she asks me.

"Not long," but she looks right through me. "Jade, be honest."

"An hour."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"I thought it would pass," I confess honestly.

"Are you still nauseous?", I just nod in disgust and hold the bucket as far away from me as I can.

"Would you rather go to the bathroom?", again I nod.

And there we stayed. It was one of those mornings that makes it so terribly obvious that I am anything but okay. One of those mornings that starts way too early and doesn't want to end. Where I lie on the bathroom floor with no end in sight, waiting for the nausea and constant urge to vomit to subside.