Thursday 19th December 1991 Before morning surgery 08:47
“George Gwilym’s dead!” Dilys had tears in her eyes. Dylan looked shocked.
“He died last night,” she continued. “He woke up vomiting blood. It was everywhere by the time we arrived: all over the bed, along the hall and on the bathroom floor. It was awful. He couldn’t stop vomiting. The toilet was full of bright, red blood. It just kept coming. A metoclopramide and a prochlorperazine injection made no difference. Dr Dennis said that there was nothing else that we could do. Eventually, we carried George back to his bedroom. We couldn’t leave him crouched over the toilet. He died very quickly once he was back in bed. Dr Dennis thought he’d lost at least 4 pints of blood.”
“It sounds terrible,” said Dr Lewis. “Poor George! How was Gwen?”
“She was distraught,” said Dilys.”She couldn’t stop shaking. Dr Dennis sent her down to make a cup of tea while we tried our best to clear up. In the end, we waited until the undertaker arrived. She was a bit calmer by then.”
Dr Lewis gave us the rest of the morning off. She had to get on with surgery: she didn’t have much choice.