Someone close to me recently began describing a health problem she is having – basically, what appeared to be a cosmetic issue with a bulbous vein in her leg, endured for many years by covering up, has turned out to be extremely serious and in need of immediate and unpleasant treatment.
Fortunately our conversation was on the phone: I ended up lying on my office floor desperately hoping to retain consciousness at least until she had hung up. So much for supportive behaviour. Guess who won’t be volunteering to go and hold her hand next week?
I hate this about myself.