‘Oh, you know, just walking into things, I’m not great at catching. Nothing out of the ordinary.’

A sound like air escaping from a balloon erupts from the male student’s mouth. He immediately turns a stunning shade of scarlet.

‘Roderick, perhaps you need some water for that throat?’ Dr Harlow’s voice is steely.

Roderick looks crestfallen as he scuttles off.

‘Thank you, Alexandra,’ says Dr Harlow. ‘Would you mind awfully if I did a few simple tests with you?’

‘No, that’s fine,’ I say. ‘Are these to check on my concussion?’

‘They are to check your nervous system response.’

‘Right.’ I rub my pounding head, unsure what that means.

Dr Harlow proceeds to perform some kind of sorcery as she carries out a number of bizarre visual and physical checks. She has me touch my nose, then her finger, repeatedly, asks me to resist as she pushes her hand against my arms and legs, and gets me to stand on the spot with my eyes closed and then to walk in a straight line, heel to toe. Finally, she asks me to sit on the edge of the bed while she taps at my knees with a small hammer. All the time this theatre is taking place, the remaining student peers at me from behind Dr Harlow, like an inquisitive meerkat.

Once she’s finished her checks, Dr Harlow invites me to lie back on the bed. By this point I’m relieved to be able to do so, wondering how on earth I’m going to make it back to work on Monday if I’m this exhausted from a physical examination. My balance is also off, probably from the concussion.

‘I realise I’m not in the best form.’ I’m still panting a little as I say this. ‘But is there any chance I’m going to get home today?’

‘Definitely not today,’ Dr Harlow confirms. ‘But perhaps in a day or two.’

OK, that I can live with. Monday could still be on the radar, as long as this fatigue lifts.

‘So, my concussion isn’t too bad?’ I ask.

‘Alexandra.’ Dr Harlow peers at me over her tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses. ‘Did Dr Amani mention to you yesterday that there were some anomalies in your MRI scan?’

‘He did, yes. Said you were going to review them?’

‘I’ve reviewed the results.’ Dr Harlow fixes me with her clinical gaze. ‘Alexandra, there’s no easy way to tell you this. Dr Amani was correct in what he thought he had seen on the scan yesterday.’

‘Which was?’ I suddenly feel uncomfortable with where this conversation is heading.

‘I shall explain so you understand the full picture. Normally we would not do an MRI scan for a concussion. Only a CT scan. Dr Amani was concerned by your account of your fall, notably your double vision. He thought it important to complete an MRI scan and spotted a couple of irregularities – some damage to your brain. We call them lesions.’

‘Some what? What does that mean? Are you telling me I’ve got a brain tumour or something?’