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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

I think that the most important quality for a doctor to possess is kindness. Without kindness, I think, we’re all lost in this maze of impossible perfection and constant self-punishment. Without kindness, we’re doctors devoid of humanity. And without our humanity, we don’t really have anything.

Even if Dr Prince fails to teach me the arterial supply of the spinal cord, he should be comforted by the fact he has taught me that. The art of kindness is shown to me in the painting he makes with his scalpel inside Mr Wilde’s brain. Maybe that is the secret to the elusive art of medicine, who knows. Something as simple as just letting ourselves be kind, and letting people be kind to us in return.

It can’t be, of course. That would just be too easy.

TWELVE

twelve

Estelle and I are musing over the strange microcosm that is the hospital the next morning as we walk to the cafeteria for a coffee. In some ways, Estelle tells me, it’s not so different to the strip club, which was its own little planet, with its own rules.

‘I miss it sometimes, you know,’ she says wistfully as we sit at our usual table, hiding. ‘Anything has to be better than this shit.’

I have a quick image of another Estelle, sans stethoscope and frown, and imagine her completely naked and grinding around a pole as she makes eyes with the men who watch her. I can be your fantasy, I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.

‘Got paid a lot more too,’ she delivers the coup de grace on why being a stripper is better than being a doctor, with feeling. ‘Like, a lot more.’

‘I can imagine. I can’t say our current salary is really helping to make the job more bearable,’ I add, and on cue my phone beeps with an incoming text from the Smiling Assassin.

Why didn’t you tell me Mrs Young’s potassium was low?

I show Estelle.

‘Wow, she’s really into her social niceties, isn’t she?’ Estelle says. ‘But it kind of proves my point. We’re all on edge, all the time. Being a doctor is kind of like balancing on this very thin wire.’

‘Fall off the wire and you land in the fiery pits of hell; make it to the end and you’ve still only got a night shift to look forward to,’ I quip.

But Estelle is serious. ‘Look, mate,’ she says, ‘this is a high-stress job. High stakes, you know. Like there’s some sick fucking patients in this place, and it can get pretty overwhelming.’

I nod. Agreed.

‘Lucky we have good mates,’ I say.