Apparently I don't exist any longer.
Feverishly-spinning politician's and spleen-venting newspaper columnists have been regularly proclaiming my disappearance. But I'm sure this is me, a GP, at 3 AM, on a dark weekend morning, on his way to see an old lady who has just passed away at home. Thankfully chatting to the driver at my side helps to settle my doubts about my very existence.
Death seems to happen more at night, maybe it's just a perception but it seems to belong to the dark. The new, multi-validated, protocol-based computer triage system has advised self-care for the unfortunate departed. Now I believe in promoting patients responsibility for their own health as much as anyone, but this seems to be taking it too far. So we go and visit.
It's a gloomy ride, winding up a valley …