Chapters (70)
- COVER PAGE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- DEDICATION
- PROLOGUE
- PART I BIRTH
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- PART II LIFE
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- PART III DEATH
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I sigh and retrace my steps to the surgical ward. It’s 9 pm, and I’ve been at work since 7 am. Aside from my coffee with Estelle and Max, I haven’t eaten or drunk anything all day. I am going to be thin enough to be faxed in a few weeks, I think, using one of Max’s favourite lines. Thin enough to be faxed. Holy enough to be canonised. Dedicated enough to be surgeonised. Scared enough to be miserable. Tired enough to be dead. The thoughts come from nowhere, but Dr Halliday, definitely not having a holiday, suppresses them quickly. She wants to be an angel of healing, and this is just what must be done. If it was easy, everyone would be doing it, I remind myself, quoting one of my lecturers from medical school. Doctors aren’t everyone. We just can’t be.
I arrive at bed 732 with the chart to see a man standing there prodding at the stitches in Mr Jacobsen’s head. Mr Jacobsen looks terrible—he has just had a massive brain tumour cut out. I smile at him, then feel bad for smiling, so look at my shoes instead. They’re really scuffed and dirty, I notice. I need a new pair. I also need a pay cheque, to buy the shoes.
‘Don’t ever leave the hospital again without telling me first,’ my mystery superior snaps as I follow him into the doctors’ room.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘It’s just that it’s past nine o’clock, so I figured it would be okay.’
‘When I was an intern I never left until I’d done a night round with my registrar.’
He starts scrolling through the CT scans on the computer, then stops and looks over at me. ‘Can you scroll?’ He sits back and rests his foot on the desk, his hands behind his head. The implication is clear: I’m WAITING.
For a second I am filled with disbelief. Like, can’t he use a mouse? But no, I realise: he actually means it. He is going to sit there, with perfect motor function and the ability to use a mouse, and make me do it instead.
What I really want to do is tell this guy to Fuck. Right. Off. Instead, I reach for the mouse.
‘I’m your boss, Dr David Hyde,’ he says, finally identifying himself. ‘You have three bosses: me, Dr Prince and Dr Bird.’
I nod, not taking my hand from the mouse nor my eyes from the two-dimensional black-and-white brain in front of me.
‘Dr Prince and Dr Bird are too senior to spend much time with you. I’ve been in this job a year and I’m only staying because I think I’ll get a senior consultant job here next year.’