One of the most humbling things about medicine is being forced to confront the painful and difficult matters that make up this life. I have one more week in the acute assessment unit on an aged psychiatry ward. There are sob stories here aplenty, enough tears and hurt to drown the nation, no doubt. Last week I admitted a Polish lady who spent the cream of her teenage years, aged 15 to 18, as a forced labourer in World War II Germany. She was forcibly taken by the Wermacht and never again saw …
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