Crackers. Mum said he needed crackers. And towels. Towels could also be useful, I thought. As I took the crackers from the kitchen pantry, I heard a thud, like someone had run into a wall.
‘Zac?’
In the bedroom, Zac’s body was sprawled on the floor. He’d vomited again, this time on the carpet.
The crackers slid out of my hands as I dropped to my knees. ‘Hey. Get up.’ I shook him a little, but he didn’t move.
‘I said get up.’ I shook him some more, the way he’d come and shake me on a Christmas or birthday morning. ‘Zac!’
His eyes rolled back and his teeth clenched. Sometimes we played games like this and Zac was the worst offender of all. But I knew this wasn’t a game – not when he was lying in a pool of that strange-looking liquid.
‘Not funny, Zac! You need to get up, now!’ I screamed. My eyes searched the room for Mum, which was futile because she was at least another ten minutes away. ‘Mum! Mum!’
I shook him more vigorously. Slapped his face with my hands. Still nothing.
‘Zac, please! Wake up! You can even have my whole Star Wars collection – whatever you want. Just open your eyes! I won’t even tell Mum it was you who broke her watch!’ I begged for him to come back to me. My best friend, my sidekick, my little brother who slept with the night light on because the ghost stories I told after Mum left the room scared him to bits. Sometimes he crawled into my bed with me, and I pretended I hated it but I was just as scared as he was.
I wasn’t trained in CPR. I didn’t yet have my Surf Rescue Certificate, but I’d watched some of the kids in other groups practising. I knew you had to lay the unresponsive person on their back. And you needed to start compressions. I didn’t know how many or how frequent they needed to be, or how many rescue breaths you needed to do in between, but I did the best I could until Mum came home and took over.
It was futile. Zac never opened his eyes again. He was already gone. Right there, in front of me, Zac’s heart had stopped, and despite what the paramedics said, I did absolutely nothing useful to help revive him.
Later, the doctors that worked on him told my mother that Zac had died from peritonitis. His appendicitis had been misdiagnosed by his GP, who’d said he had gastroenteritis after he threw up his breakfast and presented at the clinic with a tummy ache. After two visits, they hadn’t ordered any pathology tests. No blood test. Not even a blood pressure check. Mum had another appointment for the Monday, one they never made it to. The locum knocked on our door nine hours after Mum had called him.
Things were never the same after we lost Zac. But that’s the moment I knew I wanted to become a doctor. I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else around me dying. I’d become someone who saved lives instead.
Nine
Paige
There are no more ice cubes in the freezer.
In the last hour I’ve drunk two glasses of iced water, which has done nothing to evoke even the slightest kick, punch or hint of a somersault. I resorted to crunching on the ice cubes one by one, and now my fingers are numb and stiff from scooping them out of the plastic tumbler, which is now empty. I’ve tried everything, and that includes eating a handful of jelly beans, turning onto one side and then the other, and then onto all fours on the ground. Now I’m rummaging through one of the tool drawers in the garage, desperately trying to find a torch to flick on and off against my belly. I open every drawer to no avail. I check the time. Nick’s flight will be landing any minute. He’ll know what to do. I repeat the mantra in my mind as I shuffle back to bed.
‘Come on, Max, one little punch… Let me know you’re okay,’ I whisper, clambering back into bed, out of breath. My heart flutters again, and I raise a hand to still it.
My phone beeps.
Landed. See you soon, babe.
I grip the phone tightly, and between moments of wakefulness and dozing, I watch the minutes tick by until Nick finally walks through the door.
‘Nick,’ I call with relief upon hearing the front door open. I listen for his footsteps as he makes his way down the hallway. I call out again, this time more loudly. ‘Nick!’
I hear him set his keys down, and with each step he takes up the stairs, I start to unravel. He drops his bag on the floor and sits down beside me. Nick’s home and now he can help me fix this. He has to help me fix this. The cool air from outside radiates from him. ‘Hey beautiful,’ he whispers. ‘What’s wrong?’ He moves the loose strands of hair away from my face and tries to meet my gaze with his.
‘Something’s not right. The baby. I can’t feel… I can’t remember the last time he moved.’
Nick nods, showing he understands. He rubs his hands together to give them some warmth and places one on my belly. ‘Do you remember any movements today?’ His voice is calm, smooth, void of even a hint of panic, and for one brief moment I let myself relax.
I don’t want to admit it. ‘No,’ I whisper.
‘You said the nursery’s finished. You’ve been busy, you might not have noticed the movements.’
‘I think something might be wrong.’ I take a staccato breath. ‘God, I’m so tired.’ I rest my head back against the pillow.
‘Why are you breathing like that?’
‘I told you – I’m tired.’
‘Are you struggling for breath?’ he asks, narrowing his eyes.
‘I don’t know. My chest feels tight when I’m lying on my back.’
‘And what about when you’re not? What about when you’re moving around?’
‘Well, yeah, but especially when I’m climbing the stairs or taking a long walk. But Caitlin and Hope, they said this is all normal…’ The creases on Nick’s forehead indicate otherwise. I swallow hard. Maybe I’m imagining the flicker of concern on his face.
‘Since when?’
‘I don’t know. A week or so? I only really noticed it getting worse in the last few days. Maybe I took on too much. Work plus the nursery stuff. So, it’s probably that, right? I overdid it?’
Nick doesn’t answer.
As much as I want to convince myself that there isn’t anything wrong, I know I have to tell Nick about all the things I’ve been experiencing. ‘Um, I’ve been noticing this weird kind of hammering in my chest. Like flutters, but they kind of last a little while. Is that… is that normal?’ I wait for his response. It never comes. ‘Could it be I’m low in iron?’
‘Palpitations? When are you getting them?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Lying down, sitting up? Throughout the day?’
I cough before answering him. ‘All of the above.’
‘And how long have you had the cough?’
‘Umm, a few days?’
He lifts the sheets, exposing my swollen legs and feet.
‘Caitlin and Mum said the swelling is normal. It’s normal, right?’
Nick doesn’t answer me, just mumbles an inaudible sound that resembles, ‘Hmm.’
‘What is it…?’ I cough again. ‘What are you looking for, Nick?! What’s wrong?’