The Morphine Mile. On behalf of Kay, who deserved better, an open letter to Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and the Australian Government about elder abuse and our very broken aged care system.

Kay

The Morphine Mile

A woman is about to die because the only person who cares to save her can’t work out how to. Her name is Kay.

<><><>

Through ignorance, it’s likely I contributed to my own mother’s death. With a modicum of support, I might have avoided the hospitalisation and aged care placement that ultimately killed her.

My brother had recently died the sort of miserable death that brings police to the door. One evening, Kay walked into the living room, sat down, moaned then slumped, becoming unresponsive. Fearing she’d had a stroke, I called an ambulance.

“Hospital is no place for old people. They pick up all sorts of bugs. “Get her to a doctor tomorrow.”

For the first of many times, I explained Kay had recently been cancelling her doctor’s appointments; I feared she may have dementia.

That first hospitalisation set the tone for all following: several rounds of local doctor sends us to hospital, hospital returns us to doctor, doctor despairs at hospital; paramedics twice claim the aged care assessment (ACAT) necessary to accessing support services is conducted by doctor; doctor says no; government agency My Aged Care claims no assessment will be conducted without a “major diagnosis like cancer or dementia.”

<><><>

The Whack Club

Revenge is a dish best served cold. But some like it hot.

To Hull & Back Short Story Competition 2023

When You Are Dog appears in To Hull and Back Anthology 2023 on Amazon Australia, Amazon UK, Amazon US

The Stoner Cow Has Landed

 

A repentant wife, lost dog returned and house risen from ashes can only mean one thing: someone is playing a country and western song backwards. 

Denial

Shortlisted - Sisters in Crime Scarlet Stiletto Awards

When justice fails, there can only be revenge.  Short crime thriller (10 minute read.)

The Devil's Food

In the Scottish Highlands, a lonely widower and his grandson bond with a wild eagle.  

Clair de Lune

Old man winter of nineteen forty-three was a geezer too miserly to pass, clinging to bitter life only to deny his poor relatives the joy of inheritance.

Mister Switzerland

If he were a shirt, he would have to be washed separately. His label would declare him a delicate garment to be protected from other shirts, unable to withstand the rough and tumble of the washing machine. He would require hand washing in tepid water, flat shaded drying and a cool iron, though it wouldn’t get the wrinkles out.