The view from the queueBMJ 1996; 312 doi: https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.312.7045.1548a (Published 15 June 1996) Cite this as: BMJ 1996;312:1548
- Teifion Davies
”Where's Danny?” The words were out before I was conscious of what prompted them. My wife and older son were waiting for me as I emerged from the customs hall at Heathrow airport, but my accident prone younger son was prominently absent. I had been lecturing at a medical school in the Middle East for a week and as I waited in the queues at Heathrow anxiety about my family, and Danny in particular, had begun nagging at the back of my mind.
A month later I took Danny for his follow up appointment at the fracture clinic of our local hospital. The fracture of his clavicle, caused during a wicked stunt involving a mountain bike and a large log, was healing without problems and there was no reason to expect any hitches at the clinic. We live within half a mile of the hospital and arrived early. The receptionist took Danny's appointment card in a rather absentminded way and asked us to sit down. At that moment, the notes trolley entered the clinic and Danny's appointment card—in fact, our entire existence was forgotten.
I was not aware that we had been overlooked. I was …
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