Before you go and visit someone you've not seen for years in hospital, here is some advice

Being stuck in hospital, coming to terms with a life-changing condition and being away from my son means I have quite a lot to deal with already. Worrying about offending would-be visitors is an additional stress I just can’t handle

Send them your love and offer to help in any way you can, but don’t act hard done by if they don’t take you up on your offer (Getty)

You know that feeling when you bump into an ex when you’re not wearing any make-up and your hair needs a wash? Well, imagine people from your past turning up when you are in a hospital bed for weeks on end, unable to walk to the toilet, wearing a god-awful floral nightie and a catheter bag full of wee is strapped to your leg. It doesn’t sound very appealing – so I do wonder why so many people with whom I haven’t spoken in years insist on visiting me when I’m in such a wretched state.

When I first turned my phone back on after a month of being either delirious or unconscious thanks to a bout of viral meningitis, I had a huge number of messages from family, friends and acquaintances, all wanting to see how I was. The answer – bloody terrible. And definitely not in the mood to entertain guests.

The meningitis had led to pneumonia and then a neurological condition called transverse myelitis, which meant I couldn’t move more than my texting fingers. I was in pain, frightened beyond belief, and frequently away with the fairies. I wasn’t really up for many visitors aside from my mum, brother, my five-year-old son and a few very close friends.

But the requests to visit flooded in: from people I only knew on social media and former colleagues I hadn’t seen for 15 years to friends of friends I’d only met a handful of times and, yes, even from ex-boyfriends. Yes, really. I can’t believe this even needs explaining, but I didn’t really want to see someone I’d once been in a relationship with when my face was covered in a disgusting rash. Not to mention that I might have needed a bedpan at any moment and I was prone to bursting into tears for no apparent reason.

As anyone who has ever been seriously ill will know, people say really daft things when they are lost for words, so this was another reason I wanted to keep visitors to a minimum. I knew I’d lose my increasingly short temper if anyone else told me to think positively. When I was first ill, all I needed was an acknowledgement of how I had a right to feel worried and upset, not suggestions to cheer up.

I know I sound horribly ungrateful at the outpouring of concern and I’m truly sorry about that. I have appreciated every single kind word and gesture that you could possibly come up with on a get well soon card. But being stuck in hospital, coming to terms with a life-changing condition and being away from my son means I have quite a lot to deal with already. Worrying about offending would-be visitors is an additional stress I just can’t handle.

And although I think most people wanted to visit purely because they cared, I also think some just wanted a snoop – to see what a state I was in. So they could then discuss Poor Lucy and feel relieved their own lives hadn’t come unstuck quite as spectacularly as mine. In my view, it’s the same morbid curiosity that makes people slow down and take pictures of pile-ups on the motorway. I wanted kindness and compassion, but this type of there-but-for the-grace-of-God pity was definitely not helpful.

So if you know someone who is ill, here is my advice: send them your love and offer to help in any way you can, but don’t act hard done by if they don’t take you up on your offer. Don’t hound them for daily updates on their condition and “recovery”. You can be supportive without making them feel like a museum exhibit.

One last thing. Don’t, whatever you do, turn up on their ward unannounced – poorly people have very little control over what is going on in their lives, so at least give them the dignity to decide who they want to see and when.