I was 27 and had been working exhaustingly long hours as a doctor in training after graduating in Medicine from the University of Melbourne. I’d see patients who were paralysed or paraplegic. They had this crestfallen look; this unwillingness to communicate. They were obviously grieving. It sounds awful, but I never thought much about it. I just got on with my job, seeing patient after patient. Not only was I overworked, tired and stressed, but being around that much trauma daily, I’d numbed myself emotionally and mentally to keep myself sane.
In 2008 my life transformed in a way I could never have imagined. I was walking across the hospital car park to start my shift as a rehabilitation registrar. Suddenly, from nowhere,
