It was 3am in the early hours of a Monday morning. I awoke to a phone call from my brother gasping for breath and struggling with chest pains in another room of my house. I rushed to his side and called an ambulance that took him to hospital. The next few hours were spent anxiously waiting to hear from doctors, who would eventually refer him to a specialised care unit. This was just one of several emergencies where, as his carer, I found myself navigating the complexities of his chronic conditions while watching the gradual demise of his health.
Bleary eyed and sleep deprived, I left home later that morning and began the three-hour commute from my constituency in Bolton to my office in the House of Commons.
