When I came in the examining room, he was sat in bed. Even though I was confident with my white shirt and red bow-tie, I sensed a strange feeling. I checked his medical file in order to understand why my resident had asked me to see the patient, admitted to the hepatology unit the previous day for investigations.

I read that he had schizophrenia. The psychiatric disorder was written in bold characters; my odd sensation considerably increased. At this time, I was a young and untrained student, who had never been so close to “madness” before. I forgot …