Some years ago, an old friend needed surgery. I couldn’t move her up the waitlist, but I did introduce her to a surgeon. Unfortunately, a year later she told me that the surgery had left her in excruciating pain. I urged her to return to the surgeon. After all, which doctor would not be sympathetic?

But over dinner, her halting account of the appointment was devastating to hear. She had felt dismissed and ridiculed, made to feel as if it were her fault. I asked if she would allow me to approach him. In my experience, most doctors want to know when they have caused distress or harm and welcome the opportunity to make amends.

The easy bit was convincing my friend. The hard bit was calling the surgeon. I rehearsed what to say and wondered if I was out of line. But having been the subject of a few complaints myself, I felt sure that he would want to know.

I told him that our long association gave me the confidence to say that his patient felt ill-served. I trusted him to reassess her kindly, even if he couldn’t fix her. To my surprise he had no memory of being rude, and I didn’t pursue the matter. My friend was seen again, this time with more sympathy, although her problem wasn’t easily remediable. She later told me she had learnt the value of persistence.

Only weeks later, I receive a frantic late-night text from another, normally very calm, friend.

He has been in hospital for several days, being treated for pneumonia, with unstable vital signs and severe pain. Yet he feels no better. From the images he sends me, I can’t........

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