And not a moment too soon, really. He didn't remember anything from halfway up the stairs until this exact moment, but his stomach was still staging a passionate revolt.
Luckily, the nurse was in his room mere moments after he'd woken, and with a good twenty seconds (he estimated) to spare before he vomited every inch of his intestines into the nearest empty container. She handed him something pale purple that smelled of chalk--a familiar concoction, though he'd never learned the name--and he chugged it as fast as possible, closing his eyes against the peanut-buttery aftertaste and falling back onto his pillow when she eased the glass from his hand.
Sorting out the mad rush of anxiety in his head was going to have to wait until the agonizing stomach cramps has stopped.