I wanted to say, It hurts my feelings that you use that word even though it is technically correct, but I knew that the discussion would then become about how ridiculous it was of me to be hurt. He would say, You’re so oversensitive.

‘You really should try applying for a driving licence now,’ he said as he went out of the door. ‘I’ve got a double amputee in the clinic who’s determined to drive. Imagine the obstacles she’s facing.’ He left the bedroom and a minute or two later I heard the door bang shut.

*

By the time I finished my marking and got dressed it was too late to walk to the hospital so I got a minicab, feeling guilty about the expense. Dr Barnard’s clinic was running to time, amazingly, so I didn’t need the marking I had brought with me as a precaution against a long wait. After the nurse had done the routine checks, Dr Barnard called me through and I told her about the NES I had had in the wine bar, not long after Matty and I had met.

There was a junior doctor in the room, Dr Adebayo. He listened while Dr Barnard questioned me and took notes and afterwards she said, ‘Is it alright if my colleague asks a few supplementary questions? He’s doing a study.’

‘Of course.’

Dr Adebayo said, ‘I’ve read your notes. Can I just ask a bit more about your family history?’ He questioned me about my mother’s seizures and her general health. I told him about the miscarriages she had had both before and after me. He asked about my father’s medical history. After a few minutes, he sat back in his chair and looked at me with a thoughtful gaze and said, ‘And how would you say it affects you, psychologically, having this condition? In the past I mean, I know that technically you’re not epileptic any more.’

I hesitated. ‘Well, I’m never sure whether the two are connected or not. It’s hard to say. I suppose I’m a bit, well, what you’d call timid, about physical things, normal things like driving I mean, it’s quite a big thing for me and I suppose I …’

Interesting, isn’t it, the way we are able to articulate ourselves to ourselves when someone else asks? ‘It’s fair to say I don’t, well, I’m not sure how to … I don’t really trust myself.’

They were both silent, interested.

I was hitting my stride. ‘I’m thinking, what I mean is, if you’re used to the idea that, in the past, you’ve let yourself down, abandoned yourself by becoming unconscious, it means you never really trust yourself not to be absent.’

Dr Adebayo gave an indulgent smile. ‘You do know …’ he began.