Four of them in twenty years.
My husband is not a man who fell apart in an unusual way. He is a type, and a seventy-year-old woman in a cupboard has a shelf of them, and she gave him a form and put him on a Tuesday and that is the most useful thing anybody did for him all year.
Where things are.
He is still volunteering. Four days a week now.
He is not going back to surgery. He has said that in writing to the regulator and to his union and to me, and he is forty-six, and I have stopped offering him alternatives because it turns out that was me and not him.
He is doing a course from the January that would qualify him to do something else in that building, properly, for money, and I am not going to name it because he has not got it yet and he would hate me putting it in.
