Dear Alicia

I know it has been a long time since we have talked. I have heard that you have achieved amazing things in Manchester and are one of the best Pediatric Doctors in the country. This is a wonderful achievement and I am very glad of you. I still remember the pink haired girl with lemon cake on her first day at Holby, and how I watched you grow. Life at Holby wasn't the easiest or smoothest ride, but it certainly wasn't boring. I am sorry to have put you through the grief and anger that I had over Scott Ellison. Cal's death hasn't got any easier, and knowing what I have done does not help.

I hear that you have your own family now. I am glad that you have settled down with someone. As much as I love you, I know that I am not right for you. You have children and a wonderful husband who can care and provide for you, which I would be unable to do for you now. Despite your time at Holby, and our time together, there is one thing that I never told you, or anyone. The truth is that I have Huntington's disease. Cal and myself were adopted, our birth mother had the disease, and passed it onto me. Cal was clear, however he never got the chance to grow old and wise.

In this letter I would have hoped to be giving you the gossip of Holby ED, but I haven't worked their in almost a year. I am about to move into a residential care home for us younger folk. My condition has deteriorated in such a way that I am unable to look after myself sufficiently. Day to day tasks are just to difficult and challenging when you can't keep your hand still. I am still able to walk, but I have had a couple of falls. Nothing to serious though, just a bit unsteady sometimes. The home that I am moving to isn't like a typical care home. It is more like assisted living. I will have my own flat, but their will be nurses to help when help is needed. I am lucky to have gotten a place. I don't know how much longer on my own I could of coped for. The fact that I don't have any family or close friends that can help support me helped my get my place. I admit that I am scared and apprehensive about the home. It will be a big change. I will be going from the one giving the care and treatment to the one receiving it. Sometimes in these situations being a doctor is a curse. You know and understand everything meaning that it is harder to hide from it.

This letter isn't about me. The truth is that I love you. I always have done and I always will do, to my grave. I am not looking for sympathy or any pity. Just, if my condition does deteriorate at a rate where I am unable to do anything for myself, then, at least now I know that as have told you the truth. You are a good Doctor Alicia. Don't you ever forget that.

Ethan Hardy