Wednesday 17th March 1993 In bed 07:55

I have fallen in love with Dr Lewis.
I know that a student should never fall in love with his teacher and a patient should never fall in love with his doctor but I couldn’t help it and, to be frank, I don’t care. I’m prepared to suffer the consequences.

This morning I woke up with a terrible pain in my leg. It was the worst pain that I have ever had in my life and I was glad. Well, I was glad until I phoned the surgery. Dr Lewis couldn’t see me: all her appointments were already full. I had to explain to the new receptionist that it wasn’t really appropriate for me to see my own father and, then, I had a heated discussion with the senior receptionist about whether I should be expected to see the locum. I think we both put the ‘phone down firmly at the same time.
My leg wasn’t swollen but it was pale. It felt cold. I went to the toilet. I could hardly put any weight on it. It was beginning to look like a home visit would be needed. I struggled back to bed.

I was scared, now. My leg was numb. It felt like a slab of ice. My toes were purple. Few patients survive vascular surgery in Portmere Hospital. I did not want to ring for an ambulance but I knew I had to. I wouldn’t make it downstairs to the ‘phone again with this leg. I shouted for Mum.
Surprisingly, for a nurse, Mum was unsympathetic. She did not even look at my ischaemic leg. She glowered at me until I got up. I was sent downstairs with a slap to the back of my head.

That’s how I found myself in the kitchen, trying to eat my breakfast and put my school uniform on at the same time.

Two more ethical dilemmas.