Over My Dead Body

by Maz Evans

‘Quick – get your phone out and film her,’ I tell her. Winnie fumbles around in her handbag and – after switching on Google Maps, the calculator and her Costa loyalty card – finally starts filming.

‘Right,’ says Winnie. ‘How do I look?’ ‘Like a very niche adult website,’ I tell her.

‘That’s it,’ I say, my mind zooming into the picture of my death scene. ‘I’m left-handed . . .’ ‘That was seven years at medical school well spent,’ says Dan.

I never showed up to a lecture before twelve noon and I still worry when someone presents with anything to do with their feet – I missed that whole module.

After all, it’s like lockdown during this pandemic. It’s all about choices. You can use your time for good. Or you can watch Tiger King.

It’s not quite a happy ending. But there were many sadder ones.

Elderly relatives are like gym memberships. They seem like a good idea and you visit enthusiastically the first few times. But, after a while, you just can’t be arsed. Even when you know you really should be and it would probably do you some good.

I spent my whole life thinking I wanted to be alone, as is the privilege of someone who always has people around. But once solitude ceases to be a choice, I suspect it’s not nearly as appealing.

For the first time ever, I return a hug. It’s weird, but feels oddly satisfying. Like a trip to the dental hygienist.

Well, that’s me: Dr Miriam Price. Maybe we’ll meet one of these days. But until then, my friend . . . Be good. And if you can’t be good? Get better.