'A secure hospital ward, one Wednesday morning in March. When the doctor approaches with her trolley, I still have time to tell her no, that I've decided I'm afraid of drugs, that I don't trust the pharmaceutical industry, that I don't want the three comically oversized syringes of what might be 40mg of something called RPH-203, or might be a placebo consisting of saline solution, inserted into my abdomen.' (Author's introduction)