It’s a sunny Sunday afternoon in May, and my head is spinning. My husband Pascal’s community nurse has just discovered that his blood pressure is so dangerously low she has forbidden him from standing. An ambulance has been called to take him straight to hospital.
Once he has been whisked away, blue lights flashing, I grab my handbag and get in the car to follow. I need to be able to drive rather than go in the ambulance with him because Pascal and I live in rural France and there’s no other way of getting home.
And yet I bet many of
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