Thursday 20th June 1991   Morning surgery 11:30

“I am sorry, Mrs Baxter. They haven’t even got room along one of the corridors for you.”
“I don’t mind, doctor.”
“Things seem to be getting worse in that hospital. Sister Salter has looked everywhere. All the wards are full and the emergency department is overflowing. They’ve even got patients in the stair wells. She has just found a lady down in the laundry that everyone had forgotten about.”
“I’ll be alright at home.”
My Dad knew from the grim expression on her face that Mrs Baxter was still in a lot of pain.
“You can’t go home . . . Hang on! There’s no reason why you can’t use one of our corridors. They’re just as good as those in the hospital, really. Well, slightly narrower perhaps but otherwise just as good. The one between Doctor Lewis’ room and reception is quite private. There’s enough room for the staff to squeeze past you, the receptionists will easily be able to keep an eye on you and, if you deteriorate, Dr Lewis is just around the corner. It will be ideal!”
“Are you sure it’s alright, doctor?”
“It’s perfect, Mrs Baxter, and if there’s no bed for you by 7 pm, I will take you home, myself. Daphne’s a trained nurse, as you know. One way or another, you’ll be getting intensive care tonight!”

Intensive care.