An almost opaque wooziness had overcome his senses. He seemed to have misplaced a great deal of time and distance, though how much he was considerably uncertain. His initial responses to this realization were: First; his back hurt (like somebody had done a Fred and Ginger routine on his spine,) Second; he had a nauseous sensation (similar to when he once fed off a homeless bloke on the Piccadilly Line), Third; he desperately wanted a cigarette (gahhhh, his mouth was so dry); Fourth; he also desperately crazed the taste of virgin blood (delicious); and Finally; he had this deep burning sensation like something was searing through his chest.
The last, of course, was easily explained by the fact that he had a crucifix around his neck which was, in fact, burning a nice Christian scar into his flesh.
( Someone had a queer, medieval sense of decor. )