I think I can definitely say that my unilateral decision to stop taking all the drugs I was prescribed to control both the grinding pain in what’s left of my leg and the zinging, fizzing and jabbing sensations in my “phantom limb” was a mistake. Before the amputation years, it would have been hard to find anything stronger than a paracetamol in the house. Now I have drawers full of tablets whose alarming information sheets I can barely bring myself to read. They make me feel as though little areas of my brain have been replaced by sherbet-infused cotton wool. This is not conducive to undertaking detailed dissertation corrections or even having conversations with friends lasting longer than a few minutes. But after two drug-free days I found myself fantasising about being humanely put down. Or just shot. So Nurse Jackie has resumed his dispensing pharmacist role and knows better than to say, “I told you so.”