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Finally, someone speaking sense.
‘I agree,’ Tom says. ‘If it’s life or death, I think she would choose life.’
The doctor looks to Dawn, and I can tell by the way she sets her mouth that I’m not going to like her response.
‘I was there when Annie signed that card.’ She swallows. ‘She was not a minor. She was an adult. It was her choice.’ Releasing a shaky breath, she adds, ‘There are lots of safe and effective alternatives, right, Dr Singh?’
Bridget steps away from the group, and Tom drops his chin to his chest.
‘That card’s over three years old,’ I say. ‘The emergency contact details list this lady right here, her mother. What it doesn’t tell you is that the pair have barely spoken in that time.’
‘I’m going to get Annie started on some tranexamic acid,’ Dr Singh says. ‘You can let me know your decision when I return.’ With that, he exits.
Dawn levels me with a hard stare. ‘Annie’s wishes are here in writing.’
‘That card’s bullshit, and you know it,’ I snap.
Tom casts a warning glance in my direction. ‘Easy. We all want the same thing here.’
‘No we don’t. Dawn here wants to obey the scriptures, and the rest of us want Annie to fucking live.’
Tom shakes his head, like my language is the problem here.
‘Mum,’ Bridget says quietly. ‘You heard what the doctor said. The blood transfusion is her best chance.’
Dawn starts walking towards the door. ‘I need some air.’
Some air? Annie’s in there fighting for her life, and she needs some air?
I follow her out into the corridor, ignoring Tom’s protests behind me.
‘My beliefs won’t be swayed by your vulgar words,’ Dawn says when I fall into step with her. ‘So save your breath.’
‘Then I’ll try something else.’
‘I’m walking away from you for a reason.’
I draw a breath for patience. ‘Will you just hear me out?’
She continues walking without so much as a glance in my direction. I follow her all the way to the front entrance, and we step out into the balmy Brisbane weather. I’m sweating in seconds. When she doesn’t stop walking, I step in front of her, giving her no choice.
‘I know you blame me for her leaving. You wanted her to meet some nice, God-fearing J-dub and have a lovely, chaperoned courtship. You hate me. You’re disappointed. I get it. But you need to put all that aside for a minute and think about what Annie wants for once.’
She appears unmoved by my little speech. ‘Do you think it’s easy for a mother to stand before a doctor and instruct him not to give life-saving treatment to their child?’
It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t respond.
‘It’s my job as a mother to consider her well-being long-term,’ she continues. ‘You want her to wake up in that hospital bed and go on to live another sixty, seventy years in this world. I want her to live forever in paradise.’
This is when I realise I’m never going to win this argument with logic, because she believes every word coming from her mouth. ‘If Annie dies today, it will be because of you. And forever is a long time to carry the weight of her death—even while living in paradise.’
Before she can respond, the automatic doors open, and Bridget comes running towards us. Her expression confirms it’s not good news.
‘Her blood pressure dropped,’ she pants. ‘The doctor said there was a heart arrhythmia.’ She takes a moment to compose herself. ‘They had to shock her.’
The colour drains from Dawn’s face. She looks ready to fall down. I place an arm around her and guide her towards the door. ‘Let’s go.’
Inside, Dr Singh and Tom are talking. Tom steps forwards when he sees us, helping Dawn into a nearby chair.
‘Is Annie okay?’ I ask the doctor.
‘She needs blood—right now. It’s likely we’ll lose her without it.’
Bridget covers her face with her hands and starts to cry. Tom links his hands atop his head and turns in a tight circle.
My eyes go to Dawn. ‘Please,’ I say, voice breaking.
She looks to her crying daughter, then drops her gaze. ‘Give her the blood.’
