06/05/2026
The Prisoner ran for just 17 episodes in 1967. Number Six spends every one of them insisting on the same thing:
"I am not a number. I am a free man."
It's a line that sounds dramatic. Theatrical, even. Until you sit in the back of a car with someone who's just come out of hospital and realise they've understood it completely — without ever having watched the show.
Tom had been fit, robust, independent. A man who hadn't seen a doctor since birth. Nine months of tests, referrals, consultants, medications, and bypass surgery later, he came home a different person. Not because of the illness. Not because of the operation.
Because the system had processed him. Filed him. Named his legs without naming him.
In my new piece for Age In Health, I use Tom's story to think about something we rarely discuss openly in health and care: the damage that isn't on the discharge summary. The self that doesn't come home with the body.
For those of us working in care settings, this isn't abstract. Every interaction is either an act of recognition or an act of erasure. We don't always get to choose which — but we always get to be aware of it.
https://garrycostain.substack.com/p/those-bastards-made-me-into-a-patient
On personhood, the medical gaze, and the self that doesn't come home