I was more than 400km away when my husband had a fall, sustaining a burst fracture of his 12th thoracic vertebra.

Having happily retired from medical practice after nearly 45 years, I’d taken advantage of the government’s largesse and caught the coach on a half-price ticket from my regional town to the capital city.

I never made it to the concert I’d gone there to attend.

Instead, I faced one of the social determinants of health: the postcode problem.