It was three o’clock on a Saturday morning in the autumn of 2006 when the phone rang.I had unexpectedly taken over the night shift from a colleague who had “thrown his back out” fixing something on his farmhouse that evening. We’d gone out for dinner to celebrate something — I can’t recall what exactly. Only that the wine had been excellent, and that I might have had a glass or two more than usual. That happens to me once or twice a year — though only when I’m not on call. In those days, Dutch newspapers were full of stories about “coma drinking” — young teenagers ending up in hospital…