“Doctor, do you know I have a little dog?”

My team exchanges a glance. It’s my turn today.

“Tell me about your dog.”

Her face lights up. “Well, he is just a lovely little thing. When I am knitting, he curls up on my lap and keeps me company. We are very happy, the two of us.”

It is unlikely that our patient has knitted in the last year, during which a series of mishaps has brought her in and out of hospital. But the rest of her account rings true.

For as long as possible, she stayed at home, managing miraculously well despite her cognitive impairment, with little help beyond an occasional carer. But now, a fall has brought her undone. For weeks, she has been waiting for residential care, one more statistic in the familiar story of “bed block”.

From our medical perspective, she is waiting for a facility. But from hers, she is waiting to see her dog. She can recall very little about her life but, when it comes to her pet, her descriptions are unwavering. Her words paint a small brown dog, quietly following her around her apartment. Jumping into her lap when she settles into her armchair. Ready to do it all over again tomorrow.

The paramedic who rescued........

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