Page 60 of Maybe
“You mean the ability for your son to breathe in and out, unencumbered?”
“Fair enough.” I kissed him on his cheek, then pushed my luck by nuzzling his neck. Any other boy and we’d be getting down to it already, making a beeline for the goods. But instead, I found myself doing leg stroking, cheek kisses, and old-fashioned conversation. And, because it was Isaac, that was fine too.
I kissed his cheek again, rubbing my nose into the coarse stubble. “Thank you for having us both. I may have forgotten to say that.”
“You did. But you don’t need to. You have as much right to live here as me.”
Whatever. “I hope that bastard’s watching us from whichever hell hole he’s found himself.”
Isaac laughed. “I think we’d know if he was. The electrics would be sizzling or something. There’d be a lightning strike directly overhead.”
He shifted closer to me, too, so his head rested on my shoulder. He took my hand in his.
“It’s scary when Jonty gets ill at home,” I admitted. I didn’t need to add that I’d breathed a sigh of relief on settling Jonty here at Isaac’s; my face no doubt said it all. “Sorry for being such a twatwaffle about it.”
“You were a concerned parent, Ez. Panicking is normal. I get it and I don’t mind.”
“It’s just—you don’t know if you’re doing the right thing. At least at the hospital, someone takes charge.”
“They were great,” Isaac agreed. “You forget when you’re stuck in the hamster wheel what a well-oiled machine the NHS can occasionally be. Especially when there’s a real emergency. But,” he sighed, “I think the people in charge have lost sight of what’s important, what with the regulations, trying to save money and the endless focus on government targets.”
“You can only deal with the patient in front of you,” I parroted in a pompous tone. “I remember Dad saying that on the phone to his juniors when they called him for advice, or dared admit they couldn’t order the scan or whatever as quickly as he wanted.I’m not interested in that shit, Browning! Tell me what the bloody patient looks like from the end of the bed!”
“Yeah.” Isaac huffed. “For all his faults—and God knows he had plenty—our father and his generation were at least allowed to focus on that. A hospital used to revolve around doctors and nurses providing quality care to patients. And now it revolves around fuck knows what. Box ticking, measuring performance, bean counting. Treating the staff like we’re pieces of Lego to be shuffled around, not people. One of my colleagues said that last week, and it’s so true. And it… it makes me disillusioned.” Henodded a couple of times. “The parts of the job we enjoy and signed up for—looking after patients—get lost amongst the other shite. And I don’t have the answers, but I can’t see it changing anytime soon.”
“You could always quit?” I suggested. “At least his money gives you that option.”
Isaac sighed again. “Yeah. I know, and there have been times I’ve thought about it. But the stupid thing is... I don’t think I want to. I enjoy medicine, most of the time. The pressure from everyone gets to me, though. Cardiac will be so competitive and so… to get to the top you have to be so driven. So single-minded.”
He sighed heavily. “But it’s probably worth the ten or so more years of slog for when you get there.”
“Probably?” I queried. Probably didn’t sound like great odds when set against flogging himself for the next ten years.
“Well, yeah. I mean, things have changed a lot since our dad’s time. You know, doctors don’t walk on water anymore—which is a good thing. They get sued a lot more, the IT is a nightmare, the admin is a nightmare, no one really thanks you… but… when I’m treating the patient in front of me, I can forget the other crap and concentrate on that.”
“Like you do in ED?”
“Exactly like that.” Isaac snuggled in even closer. There were two Isaacs when he talked about his career. The cardiac surgery zombie and then this other one, who snuggled in and waved his hands around and smiled as he talked. I was no body language expert, but I should have videoed this conversation and replayed it to him afterwards. “I love the one-to-one nature of it. You can really make a difference to someone. Patients are anxious and you’re the first doctor they see and it’s an opportunity to make that impression a reassuring one. I love it.”
“You love it?”
“Yeah. Except… maybe I need to change things so it’s not so all consuming.”
That sounded like progress.
“Can doctors train to be specialists part time?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Isaac answered, though he didn’t sound totally convinced, “but they usually have a good reason, like childcare, or a disability, or a need to look after an elderly relative.”
“Mmm. But it’s doable?” In my mind, caring for me and Jonty constituted a great reason. “Can you train to become an ED consultant, for example, part time?”
“Yeah. Sure. It takes forever to get there, but yes. Why not?”
“Are you in a particular rush?” Bringing his hand to my mouth, I kissed his knuckles one at a time, like a complete sap.
“No.” Tipping his head, he gave me a gentle smile. “I suppose not.”
I kissed his knuckles again, in reverse. Talking and canoodling on the sofa, with my boy safe in the next room, and a side order of big-brotherly career counselling, was pretty perfect too. I couldn’t ask for much more, really.
