He had been thinking hard about the nurse’s question when the alarm on his mobile phone reminded him that it was time to take one of the five pills he ingested daily to keep himself alive. She had asked him what day it was, using his first name in that condescending manner that only nurses have. A question he could not answer even though he knew that failure may condemn him to life in a care home. He took the test tube of pills from his trouser pocket, noticing the small ‘w’ on the lid. “It’s Wednesday,” he said smiling inwardly.
By Richard Otterwell