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BMJ No 7115 Volume 315 An experience that shaped my career Saturday 25 October 1997 An experience that shaped my career My first diagnosis At the time of my 10th birthday in November 1933 my mother was "unwell." Of course I did not fully appreciate this. She was not confined to bed and was going about her day apparently normally, although under the care of her general practitioner. One night in February 1934 my father went to visit his brother who lived four miles away. There was no reason why he should stay at home with us. About 9.15 pm I was getting into bed and my mother was just outside my bedroom. Suddenly I heard her say "I do feel ill." I got out of bed, went to her, and, for reasons which will become obvious, the next few minutes were rather blurred. But I do remember, with absolute clarity, rushing down the stairs in my pyjamas, going next door, knocking furiously, and saying, "Come quickly, my mother is dying." Why did I - a 10 year old - say that? The neighbour and I went back to where my mother lay on the floor - either deeply unconscious or, more probably, already dead. Thus I had made my first diagnosis. I had said my mother was dying and I was correct. How did I know? No one had told me that my mother might die. My father did not expect it - he was shocked on his return an hour later. But I knew when I rushed down those stairs to get help. But even now I still do not know how I realised that she was dying. What else do I remember of that night? As I lay in my neighbour's house I heard the signature tune of In Town Tonight, the radio programme. It was the Knightsbridge march by Eric Coates. Whenever I hear that music, I think of that night. My father and I drew even closer and he was my counsellor. Later that year we went to London and stayed with my mother's cousins, and went to the first day of the England and Australia test at the Oval. I saw Bradman score 244 in a second wicket partnership of 451 (still a world record). But even this brought back a memory, for three years previously my mother had taken me to Lord's to see Yorkshire playing Middlesex. My hero, Herbert Sutcliffe, scored 120, and I still have the score card with my mother's writing on it to bring back the memory of our day together. What other memories do I have left these 63 years later and 52 years after graduating? Firstly, a physical memento - my mother's Royal Red Cross, awarded to her in 1918 for her services to the wounded as a surgical ward sister at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. Among the wounded was my father, who arrived in her ward by courtesy of a German shell at Passchendaele. Secondly, a hope that she as a nurse would have been proud of my medical career, which I have always felt began with that correct diagnosis in 1934. James Horsfall retired consultant radiologist, Liverpool Home | Current issue | Past issues | Classified ads | Career Focus | Feedback Collections | About this site | About the BMJ | BMA | Medline