Medical Mission

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Medical Mission Page 2

by George Ivanoff


  ‘Nate.’ Josh said the name out loud, as if trying it out. ‘Nate.’

  He smiled. He liked Nathan. But he liked Nate even better. I’ll call him Nate, he decided, then and there, amongst all the chook poo.

  Josh rested his forehead against the glass and gazed out of the window. The road seemed endless, the desert landscape unchanging. It was all so very isolating.

  Every day he travelled two hours on the bus to school in Coober Pedy, and then home again in the afternoon. If the town seemed like the middle of nowhere, the cattle station where he and his parents lived was beyond nowhere – the centre of … nothing.

  He used to study at home. He would do lessons with the School of the Air over the radio. Mum would help with stuff. And sometimes a teacher would come out for a visit to see how he was going. But then in Grade 3 his parents had asked him if he wanted to go to the school in Coober Pedy instead. A real school? With other kids? Of course he’d said yes. He didn’t care about the long bus rides.

  He didn’t usually think too much about being isolated, now that he went to a real school. After all, he had his friends, his homework, his chores, his books and his video games to keep him occupied. But the events of this last weekend were making him think about it all. The remoteness. The far-away-from-help-ness.

  What would have happened without the RFDS? he wondered. I wouldn’t be a big brother, that’s for sure. I might not have a mother anymore.

  He still wasn’t completely certain what had happened on Friday night. Dad had said very little. In fact, he seemed to be talking less than usual. He hadn’t found Dad after his chores on Saturday, so by the time Dad got home that evening, Josh had a barrage of questions, fuelled by anxiety …

  What happened?

  Why didn’t you talk to me in the morning before rushing off?

  How is Mum?

  How is Nate?

  When are they coming home?

  Dad had been overwhelmed. He gave the briefest of answers …

  Premature birth.

  You needed to sleep.

  Okay.

  Nate? Oh, Nathan. Not good.

  Don’t know.

  Then Josh had asked why Aunty Karen got to go with Mum while they stayed on the station.

  ‘You’ve got school,’ Dad had said. ‘And I’ve got the station to run. Don’t know how long they’ll be. Nothing we can do to help. Best for us to stay put and wait.’

  He seemed tired and worn out.

  A huge yawn brought Josh’s mind back into the present. He looked down at the exercise book in his lap. He still had half an essay to write. He yawned again and tried to write as neatly as he could, given the way the bus moved about. He hoped that he’d get it finished in time.

  Josh looked out at the Grade 6 faces staring at him, and licked his dry lips. He didn’t like getting up and talking in front of the class like this. It felt as if the other kids were all waiting for him to stuff up and embarrass himself. Especially Marceline – the oh-so-perfect class know-it-all. Everything was a competition for her, and she seemed to thrive on other people’s mistakes. She raised an eyebrow and carefully tucked her straight chestnut hair behind an ear.

  He took a deep breath and began.

  ‘Over the weekend I became a big brother.’

  He took another deep breath. That was a good start, he thought. He looked down at his paper and continued to read.

  It was not a great essay. On Friday their teacher had set them a homework assignment. ‘Do something interesting over the weekend,’ she had said. ‘Something you wouldn’t normally do. Then write about it. Just one page. And I’ll get each of you to read it out on Monday.’

  The arrival of his brother had pretty much ensured that Josh didn’t do anything else over the weekend. And so he wrote about that.

  ‘Things didn’t go to plan, because my little brother decided to arrive early. He wasn’t supposed to be born for a few weeks yet. That’s when Mum was going to go to the hospital in Adelaide.’

  He looked up at his audience. Big mistake. A girl in the front row was looking out the window. A boy up the back stretched his arms and opened his mouth in an exaggerated yawn. Two kids were passing notes to each other and giggling. Another kid was doodling in his exercise book. Was anyone interested? he wondered.

  Marceline smirked at him.

  Then he spotted Pete and Sally. Josh could always count on his best friends. Sally was tall and skinny, with dark skin and an explosion of frizzy black hair. Pete was short and chunky, with scraggly blond hair. They looked funny together, especially when they wore the same clothes. Although their school had a dress option for girls, Sally always chose the blue shorts and polo shirt, same as the boys. Sally nodded her encouragement and Pete gave him the thumbs up.

  ‘Mum went into labour on Friday night instead,’ continued Josh, looking back down at his essay. ‘It was real dangerous. So Dad called the RFDS. They flew to the station.’

  ‘Josh,’ interrupted Ms Wright. ‘Could you explain what the RFDS is?’

  Explain? wondered Josh. Doesn’t everyone know about them?

  ‘Oh. Okay,’ said Josh, glancing up into the staring faces.

  A boy rolled his eyes. A girl poked her tongue out. Marceline was still smirking. Josh’s mouth went dry.

  ‘The RFDS is short for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. They are doctors and nurses who fly in planes to country places when people need help.’

  Josh looked at his teacher and she nodded. He looked back at his essay and continued.

  ‘The RFDS sent a plane with a midwife. A midwife is a special baby nurse. The plane landed on the airstrip at the cattle station where I live. Dad and I went in the ute to get her and the pilot. The midwife was there for four hours. My baby brother was born at 2.07 am on Saturday morning. His name is Nathan. Or Nate for short. After he was born, the RFDS took him and Mum on their plane to Adelaide. Nate has to stay in hospital for a little while because he was born too early and his lungs don’t work properly yet.’

  Josh took a deep breath, but didn’t look up. He suddenly had a vision of Nate in one of those plastic boxes they put babies into on television hospital shows. He suppressed a shudder and made himself go on.

  ‘I don’t know what would have happened if the RFDS hadn’t come to help. That’s what the RFDS do. They help people. But the RFDS also need our help. They rely on donations. They need people like us to donate money. If you want to help, you can donate money on their website: www.flyingdoctor.org.au. Thank you.’

  Josh quickly closed his exercise book and headed straight for his seat without waiting to be dismissed.

  ‘That was very good, Josh,’ said Ms Wright. ‘Before we go on to the next essay, I think it’s worth talking about some of the things Josh has brought up. How many people here have been helped by the Flying Doctors? Or had someone in their family helped by them?’

  Four hands went up.

  ‘Lucy?’ Ms Wright pointed to a girl in the middle of the class.

  ‘My dad broke his leg when he got thrown by a horse,’ said Lucy. ‘They came to get him.’

  Ms Wright pointed to a boy up the front.

  ‘I had appendicitis,’ he said. ‘I got to fly in a plane to Adelaide.’

  The next girl had a grandfather who’d had a heart attack. And the last girl’s uncle cut his arm on some farm machinery.

  ‘How about the clinics that the RFDS runs here in town?’ asked Ms Wright. ‘How many of you have gone to those?’

  Everyone put up their hands.

  ‘So we all benefit from the services provided by the RFDS,’ said Ms Wright. ‘Perhaps we as a class could do something to help them. Any ideas?’

  Pete raised his hand. ‘We could donate our pocket money,’ he said.

  ‘That’s very generous, Peter,’ said Ms Wright with a smile. ‘But I thought we might be able to do something to encourage other people to donate as well.’

  I know, thought Josh and his hand shot up. The teacher pointed
to him.

  ‘We could hold some sort of fundraiser,’ said Josh. ‘Charge money for people to come to it. And then give the money to the RFDS.’

  The class burst into sound as everyone started talking at once, making suggestions as to what they could do.

  The bell rang for recess.

  ‘Calm down, everyone. Calm down,’ said Ms Wright, holding out her hands. ‘Why don’t you all think about it for a few days. Write down your ideas and bring them to class on Friday. Then we can talk about them and see what we might be able to do.’

  A fundraising event. It suddenly seemed very important to Josh. A chance to say thank you to the RFDS for saving his mum and brother.

  I have to come up with something, determined Josh.

  ‘Hey Dad,’ said Josh. ‘I read out my essay in class today.’

  ‘Huh?’ Dad didn’t even look up. He was concentrating on not burning the baked beans he was heating up in a saucepan. ‘What essay?’

  ‘The essay about the RFDS and Nate being born,’ said Josh. ‘I told you about it yesterday.’

  ‘Did you?’ said Dad. ‘Don’t remember.’ Josh sighed. Does he ever listen to anything I say?

  ‘Well, I wrote an essay about Nate and the RFDS,’ said Josh. ‘And I read it out during class.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Dad said absently.

  Josh pushed down his disappointment at Dad’s reaction and tried to go on. ‘Ms Wright said it was really good.’

  ‘Miss who?’

  ‘Ms Wright,’ corrected Josh. ‘She’s my teacher.’

  ‘Oh, yeah … sure.’ Dad lifted the pan from the heat and stirred.

  ‘Anyway,’ Josh persevered, ‘after I finished reading the essay we talked about doing some fundraising for the RFDS. And we all have to think of something we could do as a class. Any ideas?’

  ‘Oh … um … not really.’ Dad slopped a mountain of mushy beans in tomato sauce onto the dish in front of Josh. ‘I don’t really have time to think about that. It’s been very busy on the station, and with your mother away I’ve got even more on my plate.’

  Josh looked down at his own plate. This is dinner? he thought. Mum had only been gone three nights and he was already sick of Dad’s ‘cooking’.

  Josh wondered how Mum and Nate were doing. Dad didn’t talk much about them. Josh had to ask if he wanted to know anything. The lack of information was just making him worry more. Actually, thought Josh, Dad doesn’t talk much about anything these days.

  ‘So … when’s Mum coming home with Nate?’ asked Josh.

  ‘I really don’t know, son.’ Dad’s voice was taking on a fed-up tone. ‘Can we please stop with the questions and just eat our dinner? I’m tired.’

  ‘Sure.’ Josh unenthusiastically pushed the beans around the plate with his fork.

  They ate their meal in silence and then Dad went to bed, leaving Josh to wash up.

  Tuesdays were different from other school days. Instead of catching the bus, Josh got to stay in town after class and get a lift with Pete’s older brother. Every Tuesday afternoon, he got to hang out with Sally and Pete – his best friends. He had met the two of them on his first day at school in Coober Pedy. Pete was also coming there for the first time, after having done School of the Air. And Sally had just moved to town. The three of them were new kids. And the three of them had stuck together ever since.

  This Tuesday they walked up the main street of Coober Pedy towards the supermarket, intending to buy ice-creams.

  Hutchinson Street came off the Stuart Highway, ran down the middle of the town and out the other side. Most of the shops in Coober Pedy were positioned along it. It was pretty busy for an outback town, with tourists looking for food and souvenirs, or simply on their way to search for opals. That’s what the town was famous for and the main reason tourists came – gemstones. In fact, the town was known as the opal capital of the world.

  Josh looked over at the large opal store on the other side of the road. In the car park next to it was a spaceship. Not a real one, of course. Some old movie prop, according to Pete. Josh didn’t really care. He wasn’t interested in opals or spaceships. He looked down at his feet.

  ‘Any ideas?’ asked Josh, kicking a stray stone off the footpath.

  ‘’Bout what?’ responded Pete.

  ‘Duh!’ Josh rolled his eyes. ‘What do you think? The fundraiser, of course.’

  ‘Oh yeah, the RFDS.’ Pete looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then shook his head. ‘No idea.’

  ‘How about a car wash?’ suggested Sally.

  ‘In this heat?’ grumbled Pete. ‘No way.’

  ‘It is getting close to summer,’ said Josh. ‘It’s just going to get hotter.’

  ‘And no one around here washes their cars anyway,’ said Pete.

  ‘The tourists?’ suggested Sally. ‘They come in off the dirt roads in their filthy four-wheel drives. They might want a wash.’

  ‘Nah,’ said Pete. ‘They don’t stay long and then it’s back to the dirt roads. They’ll get their fancy cars washed when they get home.’

  ‘What then?’ said Josh in frustration. ‘A cake stall?’

  ‘Well,’ said Pete, ‘your mum does make great cakes.’

  ‘Mum’s still in Adelaide with Nate,’ said Josh. A pang of sadness caught in his chest.

  ‘And it’s not going to raise a huge amount of money,’ said Sally. ‘We need something bigger.’

  ‘Oh!’ Pete started jumping up and down. ‘I’ve got it! I’ve got it! There’s this bunch of old black-and-white films.’

  ‘So what?’ said Sally.

  ‘They’re all about people needing to raise money to save something or other,’ continued Pete. ‘But the thing is, what they always do is put on a show!’

  ‘A show?’ Sally came to a stop outside the supermarket, putting her hands on her hips. ‘You are joking. Right?’

  Pete seemed to visibly shrink. ‘Well, it works in the movies.’

  ‘You and your films,’ said Josh, walking into the supermarket and going for the ice-cream chest. ‘Films aren’t the answer to everything.’

  ‘What?’ said Pete, following. ‘There’s plenty of good advice in films.’

  ‘Like what?’ mocked Sally.

  ‘Well, like, never split up if you’re going into a haunted house, ’cause if you do, you’re all gonna die, one by one, in really horrible ways, with lots and lots of blood and –’

  ‘Haunted houses aren’t real,’ Sally interrupted. ‘What about proper advice?’

  The three of them arrived at the freezer and picked their ice-creams.

  ‘Well,’ said Pete, digging through the different choices. ‘There is this 1960s film called Born Free and it shows you how to raise orphaned lion cubs.’

  ‘Yeah,’ laughed Sally. ‘’Cause that happens all the time.’

  ‘You watch too many movies,’ said Josh, heading off to the cashier.

  ‘There is no such thing as watching too many movies. And besides, I don’t just watch films,’ said Pete, ‘I also watch television.’

  ‘That makes it all okay, then,’ said Sally with a giggle.

  The three of them bought their ice-creams and walked down the street. They had a couple of hours to kill before Pete’s brother would pick them up. There was a lull in conversation as they ate. Josh powered through his choc paddle pop as he pondered the fundraising question.

  Finishing his ice-cream, he looked around at the familiar sights. There were fewer shops now. They passed a couple of opal places, a few vacant lots and then his eyes came to rest on the drive-in cinema, which reared up above the buildings.

  He’d never gone there, although he’d seen it often. His parents were always too busy or too tired every time he’d asked to go.

  As they came up to it, he stopped along the high wire fence, leaned against it, fingers curling into the spaces, and peered in at the screen.

  That’s it, he thought. That’s what we could do.

  ‘Hey Josh, what ya lookin�
�� at?’ asked Pete.

  ‘The screen,’ said Josh dreamily. ‘The drive-in screen.’ Then he whirled around to face his friends, a big grin plastered over his face. ‘I’ve got it!’

  ‘Got what?’ asked Sally, finishing off her ice-cream.

  ‘Our fundraiser.’ Josh looked pretty pleased with himself. ‘We are going to put on a show. Just not the sort that are in Pete’s movies. The sort of show we’re going to put on … is a movie.’ He pointed at the drive-in. ‘In there.’

  ‘Hmm,’ mused Sally. ‘That could work. Especially with the tourists. It’s not as if there’s much else to do here in the evenings.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Pete, nodding. ‘I like it.’

  ‘Glad you do,’ said Josh, putting a hand on his shoulder, ‘’cause it’s going to depend on you.’

  ‘Huh?’ Peter looked confused. ‘How come?’

  ‘You go there all the time, don’t you?’ asked Josh.

  Pete looked down at his feet. ‘Well … yeah.’

  ‘And you kinda know the guy who runs it?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess,’ said Pete slowly. ‘Only, it’s not a guy. And … she’s a bit weird. She calls herself Ratchet.’

  ‘Ratchet?’ Sally pulled a face.

  ‘Her name’s actually Rachel,’ explained Pete. ‘But she doesn’t like it. Don’t ever call her Rachel … she’ll go ballistic.’

  ‘So why Ratchet?’ asked Sally.

  ‘Well, it’s kinda like Rachel, isn’t it?’ said Pete. ‘And she’s always wearing this massive belt with tools hanging off it. And a ratchet is a tool.’

  ‘Sounds like you know her pretty well,’ said Josh thoughtfully. ‘Well enough to ask her to donate the use of the drive-in?’

  ‘I dunno,’ said Pete hesitantly. ‘She’s pretty scary.’

  ‘Look!’ Josh suddenly called out, pointing through the wire.

  ‘What?’ Peter and Sally stared in the direction he was pointing.

  ‘I saw someone by that building over there,’ said Josh. ‘It must have been Rach–I mean, Ratchet. Let’s go talk to her right now.’ Josh gave Pete a little shove. ‘You can introduce us.’

  ‘Um …’ Pete hesitated. ‘I don’t think that’s a good –’

 

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