Wednesday 19th December 1990   Afternoon coffee 17:00

“Mrs Austin died last night.” Dr Lewis looked really upset when she told us.
“Listen, Lois,” my Dad said. “You can’t keep getting attached to these patients. You have to maintain a professional distance. At the end of the day, Mrs Austin was just another old lady with heart failure. She wasn’t your grandmother.”
“Don’t be so horrible, Desmond!” Dr Lewis retorted. “She was lovely. She was determined. Until two weeks ago, she did everything for herself. She managed to do all her cooking and cleaning. The house was spotless. She was brave too: she never complained or made a fuss. She was always cheerful. I liked her, Desmond. I was attached to her.”
My Dad frowned.

Mrs Austin died last night.
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