Thursday 20th September 1990 Thursday morning
Dad still looked jaded. He was pale but not clinically anaemic. All he had had for breakfast was a large cup of black coffee. He told Mrs Andrea Jones that this had caused his slight shakiness. Usually, he would spend 15 minutes looking through the mail before seeing his first patient. Today, he stared aimlessly at the clock.
He was irritable and hypersensitive to sound. I could see him visibly cringing as Miss Rebecca Radcliff complained loudly about her symptoms and his failure to offer a medical solution. He jumped as she slammed the door behind her.
As the morning progressed, his communication deteriorated. He listened reluctantly and answered every question with a terse grunt. He gave a prescription to his last patient without saying a single word.
By the time he arrived upstairs for coffee, he had a greenish tinge. He sat down, looked around at all the staff eating and drinking, groaned, got up and went back out.