- Trisha Greenhalgh, general practitioner
- London
The doorbell always rings with particular urgency on those rare occasions when I've just found half an hour between paperwork and bedtime and curled myself up in a big armchair with a book. This time, it was a nervous, housewifely woman in a pinny who looked young and indecisive enough to be my daughter.
“You don't know me, but I live at number 121. It's a bit of an emergency.”
Like most people who live within gasping distance of a doctor, …
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