During my father’s funeral, a few years ago, a woman approached me and said: ‘Do you know, your dad saved my life? I would not be here without him.’ My doctor dad had worked as an infectious diseases consultant for more than 40 years, so her words shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But, in the heightened emotions of the moment, the encounter brought tears to my eyes. It’s one thing to know intellectually that a family member saves lives, quite another to come face to face with the living, breathing evidence.
In the ruminative, empty days of the first lockdown, the incident came back to haunt me. Everyone else in my family had always been employed in the caring professions or public service jobs. My work as a journalist had been exciting and introduced me to a wealth of fascinating people and stories, but I couldn’t see that it was having any long-term benefit in the world. It’s not like I was even exposing corruption and wrongdoing, let alone saving
