In the Midst of Life

sister might. She is a very emotional woman who is clinging to her mother and won’t let her go. She wouldn’t listen to her brother Jamie, nor to me, because we would not say what she wanted to hear. If her mother dies today or tomorrow, which is possible, Maggie will blame me, and say that the death could have been prevented, but that I refused to operate. It would only require a letter to the BMA suggesting that I have been negligent in my professional duties Her voice trailed off.
    And what then?’ I ventured after a minute. I could see she was deep in thought.
    ‘What then? Suspension on full pay whilst enquiries are made. Endless statements, investigations into my professional competence.’
    ‘That can’t be in doubt.’
    ‘I’m not so sure. Past record may count for something, but it is no defence. At a BMA tribunal, how could I stand up and say, “I thought we should let the old lady die”?’
    Put like that, it sounded both callous and unprofessional. Miss Jenner laughed bitterly.
    And even if I didn’t use those words exactly, you can be sure the press would.’ She heard my exclamation of surprise and indignation. ‘Oh yes! The press would be there all right. The tabloids love that sort of thing. They would drag me through the gutter, given half a chance. I can just see the headlines, “Consultant Surgeon says
let the old people die”.
I, and the hospital, would be named and shamed.’
    Miss Jenner let out a long shuddering sigh.
    ‘My local paper would make it front-page headlines. They’vegot nothing much else to report – apart from the occasional “flasher” on the common! It would really be big news for them. And that’s where I live, and do my shopping, and take my dog for a walk.’
    Her voice was nearly breaking.
    ‘I hate to think of it all. Even if my decision was vindicated by the BMA, the damage would have been done.’
    She looked up, and her face looked ten years older.
    ‘Against my better judgement, I will have to operate. I have no choice. Instruct Theatre Sister to prepare for a trephine, will you please? And I will speak to the anaesthetist.’
    She stood up, looking more resolute.
    ‘I must go and speak to the relatives first.’
    ‘What about lunch?’ I said ‘You have had nothing.’
    ‘There’s no time. I’ll eat later.’
    ‘You’ll need something inside you. I’ll get the ward maid to prepare a sandwich and coffee for you.’
    ‘Thanks. That sounds nice. I’ll go and see them now, then have a bite.’
    The operation was successful. The bleed was less serious than before, and had been attended to more quickly than the first stroke. A small bleeding point was located and tied off. Free blood and serum were sucked from the cranium, a clot removed, and the patient returned to the ward. Nursing procedures were as before, and Mrs Doherty regained consciousness within three days.
    Maggie was overjoyed and spent most of each day with her mother. Before returning to Durham, Priscilla called at the hospital a couple of times and expressed her satisfaction. Jamie also came to see his mother each day. He looked at her paralysed limbs, and listened to her gurgling attempts at speech, and murmured ‘I hope to God this never happens to me.’
    Mrs Doherty remained on the ward for three weeks, and then was transferred directly to a rehabilitation centre. For a month she received physiotherapy, ultrasound, passive movement of the limbs, swimming sessions, and many of the exercises that attempt torestore strength to wasted muscle. A speech therapist helped her with jaw and tongue movements, vowel sounds and consonants.
    It had been ten weeks since the first stroke and a measure of improvement was undoubtedly seen, so Mrs Doherty returned home with Maggie to care for her.
    All went well to begin with. The old lady was obviously pleased to be home, and Maggie was full of enthusiasm and happiness. The children came in to see their Granny, expecting her to be the same, or very nearly. But when they saw an old, old woman, who looked nothing like the grandmother they remembered, slumped in a chair, her face fallen to one side, one eye closed, saliva trickling out of the corner of her drooping mouth, they backed off, afraid. She saw their alarm, and tried to smile and hold out a hand in greeting. But when she tried to say, ‘Hello darlings, I’ve come home,’ it sounded like ‘Ga ga wa wa ga’. The youngest one ran away in terror, and the eldest girl murmured to