Overdrawn: In an Ageist Society, Euthanasia Is Encouraged as a Patriotic ACT - Softcover

Crosskey, NJ

Softcover

ISBN 10: 178955022X ISBN 13: 9781789550221

Verlag: Legend Press, 2019

Inhaltsangabe

In an ageist society, where euthanasia is encouraged as a patriotic act, dementia is no longer tolerated.

Henry Morris is watching his wife slip away from him. Kaitlyn, a young waitress, is desperate for the funds to keep her brother’s life support machine switched on.

When a chance encounter brings the two together, they embark on an unconventional business arrangement that will force them to confront their prejudices, as well as their deepest, darkest secrets.

GUARDIAN BOOK OF THE MONTH
'This compelling page-turner is so disturbingly real, I can't stop thinking about it' Daily Mail
'A powerful and tender book, with even more emotional punch than Crosskey’s debut' WI Life Magazine
'This study of a washed-out, uncaring society is a salutary warning' Guardian

'On an overstretched earth, sustainability is sacred and the elderly are made to feel as if they have overstayed their welcome. Gripping, fast-moving and tightly plotted, Overdrawn imagines a future in which we can no longer afford the luxury of old age' Heather Child, author of Everything About You

'Crosskey is a genius - I don't know how many of these convincing, terrifying dystopias she has lined up, but I want to read them all. Overdrawn is flawless. It's a compelling page-turner, an astute exploration of society's attitude towards the ageing and the sick, and a beautiful portrait of connection between lost human beings. I truly loved it' Laura Pearson, author of Missing Pieces and Nobody’s Wife

'In Overdrawn, Crosskey creates a dystopian Britain in which the ageing population is neither valued nor tolerated. Compelling, unsettling - I couldn’t put it down' Joanne Burn, author of Petals and Stones

‘Poignant, powerful and so very plausible. Crosskey’s writing is just flawless. Overdrawn is undoubtably an utter triumph and Crosskey is fast becoming the writer of our generation’ Stefanie @LiteraryElf

‘Crosskey takes the tricky subjects of ageing and dementia and spins something so inventive and heartrending. Wonderful characters, beautiful writing, this book is a total gem’ Clare Empson, author of Him

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

N. J. Crosskey worked in the care sector for almost 20 years and is now a full-time author.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

“The importance of the Moving On initiative simply cannot be overstated. In many ways, it is the second revolution of our time; offering both an effective solution to our current economic crisis, and a personal solution to thousands who have, in the past, suffered needlessly and seemingly without end.
“Just as the advent of the contraceptive pill gave our great, great grandmothers autonomy over their own fertility for the first time, the Moving On Corporation now offers us an even greater freedom. The freedom to choose our own destiny. The power to decide our own fate.”
Maria Drake, Spokesperson for the Collective Council

1
Henry had never liked doctors. They were always harbingers of pain. Even when he was a boy, he’d never been wooed by their shiny red lollipops. No amount of shrink-wrapped sugar could distract him from their lies about what constitutes ‘a small scratch’. In fact, his whole life had been punctuated by their bad tidings:
‘I’m afraid those tonsils will have to come out, Henry lad.’
‘In cases such as these, amputation is the safest option.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Morris, there was nothing more we could do for your mother.’
‘It’s a difficult choice, but as her father it falls to you to make it on her behalf.’
‘I’m afraid your wife’s diagnosis is indisputable.’
He couldn’t recall a single time in his history that a white coat and stethoscope signalled anything other than trouble. And today was no exception.
He’d been waiting in the sterile silence of the doctor’s office for well over half an hour when Dr Johnson waltzed in, whistling. Because to him, armed with his white coat and youthful privilege, it was just another day at work. Chloe was just another name on a file. Just a date of birth and a condition.
“Mr Morris.” The doctor smiled, too widely. Black news comes after flashes of white teeth.
He sat down and opened the lime green tome of a file on the desk.
“I’ve been reviewing your wife’s case. In light of the information you gave my colleague over the phone, I think it’s safe to say her current dose of Hepraxin is no longer sufficient. Would you agree?”
“Yes.” Henry shivered a little when he remembered coming home the day before to discover the front door wide open, and Chloe nowhere to be found. “Yes, I would.”
Dr Johnson nodded. “Well, that in itself is nothing to worry about. As the disease progresses, it’s perfectly normal for a patient to require a higher dose. I would suggest we try doubling it. If you still wish to continue treatment, that is?”
Henry’s cheeks burned. “Of course I do.”
“I understand.” The doctor nodded slowly. “I see no medical reason why we can’t put her up to 40mg. However, I’m afraid I am only able to authorise three months’ supply today.”
The bile churned in Henry’s guts. Had the time come so soon? Perhaps not. Perhaps there was another reason. Supply problems, maybe? Or the need to review the drug’s effects?
“Why is that?” he asked, praying he didn’t already know the answer.
Dr Johnson exhaled. That one release of CO2 confirming Henry’s fears. This was it. End of the line. Game Over. You do not have enough credits to proceed.
“I’m afraid three months’ supply will take you to the limit of your overdraft, Mr Morris,” he said at last. “If you prefer, I could prescribe six at her current dose? You won’t see any improvement, of course, but there might not be too much of a decline. If you need more time to… make arrangements?”
Make arrangements. The phrase lingered in the air.
Henry eyed the young, virile doctor. Anger twisted in his solar plexus, radiating down to his fingertips which began to shake, and burn. This guy knew nothing about life except its monetary value. He’d never had to watch the light and passion fade slowly from eyes that had once burned with conviction and courage. He’d never built love with someone, learned to recognise the subtle movements in their face that belied their every mood. He’d probably never even held a little miracle of his own creation in his arms. What did he know about life, apart from its mechanics?
He wanted to shout, rage. Scream his despair at the white-coated epitome of youth in front of him. But instead he whispered, “I’ll take the three. Everyone gets older, you know.”
“Indeed” – Dr Johnson nodded solemnly – “and it is something we must all prepare for. Mr Morris, I understand how hard this must be. But, there comes a time when you must think of yourself as well.”
“What do you mean?” Henry thought of nothing but himself, if he was honest. All the praise, all the well-meaning ‘I don’t how you do it, you must be saint’ comments from friends and neighbours made him uncomfortable. Chloe was his world. He couldn’t let her go. Not without losing himself as well.
“Have you thought about how you would cope, if you continue to care for your wife once her medication runs out?”
“I’d cope.”
“We are fortunate these days, Mr Morris. Dementia has been effectively eradicated. The trouble is, because it’s no longer a part of everyday society, we’ve forgotten how hard it is to deal with. What it means for those trying to look after the patient.”
“I’m well aware of what it means,” Henry snapped. “I stand by my decision. I will not be making any arrangements.”
Dr Johnson just smiled again, which made Henry want to smack him in the chops, not that he ever would. “Well,” he said, far too congenially, “I am just a humble physician. All I have to go by is the current repayment plan you have in place. That’s not to say there might not be other options. Why don’t I make you an appointment with the financial department? There’s a slot available tomorrow? Maybe they’ll come up with something?”
Henry nodded and took the small scrap of paper the doctor handed him, along with the prescription. He stood up and headed to the door.
“Mr Morris?” Dr Johnson called out to him before he grabbed the handle. “I do respect your decision; I’m just concerned about your health as well. I sincerely hope we can find some way to continue treating your wife. But if we can’t—”
“I’ll manage.”
Dr Johnson sighed. “Mr Morris… how did you get that cut on your cheek?”
Henry walked out and slammed the door.
“Jumped-up little son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself as he clung to the handrail, easing down the staircase one step at a time. Every movement chafed. He was long past due a new prosthetic, but that was the least of his concerns right now. When he reached the bottom, he headed for the gents, hoping to get some relief from the pain that burned in his bladder.
Picturing Dr Johnson’s face in the urinal wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped. But a little of the vitriol built up inside left his body with the dwindling stream of urine. It wasn’t the young doctor’s fault, any more than it was Chloe’s. Or his. The anger he held was all the more bitter because it had no direction.
The mirror was smeared. Hastily cleaned by a harried worker with a low EP and high hourly targets. He grabbed a coarse paper towel and gently rubbed the streaks away. Maybe the supervisor would be coming round with their clipboard soon. Maybe that one...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Legend Press
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2019
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 178955022X
• ISBN 13: 9781789550221
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Auflage: 1
• Anzahl der Seiten: 288
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: preigu; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; 49078; Deutschland