The past year has been incredibly tough for everyone; but especially so for women in their 40s and 50s.
With children still at home and, in some cases, their own parents to worry about or care for, they’ve had to juggle work with full-on family and home commitments.
Poor old sandwich woman has never felt more thinly spread. Husband booming away in the spare room, kids occupying the kitchen table, the washing machine permanently full, the fridge always empty . . . it’s been relentless and exhausting.
Deprived of the social mechanisms we all rely on to take the edge off things, many have found their joie de vivre seriously depleted. When life is this intense, it’s the small acts of escapism that relieve just enough of the pressure to stop you imploding.
During my career, I have seen many people die and I know there are some ways I could simply not bear.
There are certain conditions that, if I was diagnosed with them, I would choose to take my own life rather than suffer what I consider torture. The idea of slowly choking to death because I am losing the ability to swallow, for example.
And the thought of being unable to move chills me and many others, I think to the core. Every doctor has stories of patients that make you question whether doctors should be able to step in and end people s lives when they really want it.