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Back Going Under Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I BIRTH
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. PART II LIFE
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. PART III DEATH
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. FORTY-ONE
  49. FORTY-TWO
  50. FORTY-THREE
  51. FORTY-FOUR
  52. FORTY-FIVE
  53. FORTY-SIX
  54. FORTY-SEVEN
  55. FORTY-EIGHT
  56. FORTY-NINE
  57. FIFTY
  58. FIFTY-ONE
  59. FIFTY-TWO
  60. FIFTY-THREE
  61. FIFTY-FOUR
  62. FIFTY-FIVE
  63. FIFTY-SIX
  64. FIFTY-SEVEN
  65. FIFTY-EIGHT
  66. FIFTY-NINE
  67. SIXTY
  68. EPILOGUE
  69. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  70. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

‘You could probably do with a break from the hospital,’ Winnie remarks. ‘Maybe the rural secondment isn’t such a bad thing. I’ll miss you and Estelle, though. And Max was saying he’s going to try to swap so he can go at the same time as you guys.’

‘I don’t want to go,’ I say. It’s been hard enough getting used to Holy Innocents, which is a major Sydney hospital; the thought of an understaffed rural hospital gives me the willies.

‘You never know,’ Winnie says optimistically. ‘It could be a relaxing escape from the city.’

‘Unlikely,’ I say. Although, I think to myself as I give in and walk into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine, Dr Holliday could sure use a bloody holiday.

TEN

ten

The next afternoon, I sit in the multidisciplinary oncology meeting and listen to consultants who’ve never met Mr Wilde discuss whether he should be allowed to survive.

‘The tumour is near too much eloquent brain,’ one of the surgeons argues, looking at the MRI on the screen in front of us.

I’m startled by the word ‘eloquent’. It’s almost poetic to describe important bits of brain tissue as eloquent. Maybe neurosurgeons do have souls, after all.

‘We can’t leave it,’ Dr Prince says, ‘otherwise he’ll end up dying from obstructive hydrocephalus anyway.’

‘If you do an open craniotomy you could easily damage his fornix, which would be a disaster. He’ll end up a goldfish jack with no short-term memory whatsoever.’

‘I’ll go in with the ventriculoscope and have a look. I might be able to get some out that way,’ Dr Prince counters.

I feel like I’m watching a verbal chess match. I don’t really understand anything but realise that the tumour is in a bad and unusual place, putting a lot of pressure on important bits of brain, and operating is high risk, but leaving it means he’s toast too. Caught between a rock and a hard place, as Dad would say, except the rock is horrific disability, and the hard place is death. Fantastic.

Everyone starts to argue with each other, loudly. The Shark is gesturing angrily at the MRI, the oncologist is shaking his head in obvious disgust, and the game continues. Check. Check. Check. Stalemate.

I nibble on my mini quiche, which is really rather good, and wonder if anyone would notice if I took another.

‘I think it’s pointless,’ an oncologist sitting behind me says, sounding annoyed. ‘It’s too advanced.’

‘It’s clearly isolated,’ Dr Prince responds calmly.

Go, Dr P! I cheer mentally.

‘It’s not worth the risk,’ Mr Angry Pants oncologist snaps, gesturing at the MRI.