Warning: A very sad story
I remember a particular patient called Sean from my secretarial days. On his first appearance at the clinic he was clutching his abdomen in agony and half cursing and crying. On his second visit he was still in enormous pain but they decided to run more tests. On the third visit he was asked to bring a friend with him: the doctor had to tell him he had AIDS. But he didn’t bring a friend that day, instead he brought her a present of a little crystal unicorn. She found couldn’t tell him the news and instead repeated that he should come back the next day with a friend. He lived for only two months after that. Each time I met him, he was devastated and found it impossible to deal with the inevitable. There was nothing to say.
Two years later I visited the clinic and sat in the good doctor’s office.
“Whatever happened to the unicorn?”
“I kept it for a long time, but it made me sad to see it sitting on my desk. In the end I gave it to a child with the chicken pox who was playing with it. I just told him that it was a very special horsey and that he needed to take extra care of it.”
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