Dr Lachlan McIver - Life and Death Decisions: Fighting to save lives at the edges of humanity

For Dad

Select one of the chapters from the and you will be taken straight to that chapter.

Look out for linked text (which is in blue) throughout the ebook that you can select to help you navigate between related sections.

You can double tap images to increase their size. To return to the original view, just tap the cross in the top left-hand corner of the screen.

This book is based on real events and people. Most names and some details have been changed, partly for dramatic effect, but mostly out of respect for privacy and to avoid getting too many people into too much trouble.

Names and other identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. Some events have been condensed, edited and altered for the book.

The book contains descriptions of the authors personal use of ayahuasca. Such descriptions do not constitute advice to others. Ingestion of any psychoactive substances should always be voluntary and under the guidance or direction of a suitably qualified person. It should be discussed with, and disclosed to, the relevant healthcare providers and medication or medical regimes should not be changed without prior discussion with such medical practitioners. The author and publishers are not liable for any injury or losses suffered from individuals choosing to engage in this practice.

1998

Far North Queensland, Australia

I found Dad dead on the side of the dirt road.

I was 16; he was 49. Hed left my sister and me at the house while he went out for his regular jog down to the bridge and back. Ma was away, working nightshifts as a midwife in the hospital two hours distant down the mountain range. The afternoon was cool and a light rain prickled as I wandered out onto the veranda to squint up through the mist towards the top gate to see if Dad was making his way down. Hed been gone a while now, so I assumed he must have stopped off to chat with our neighbours at their farm a couple of kilometres down the road. Shitty weather for socialising. I imagined him schlepping back in the cold and the mud and felt sorry for the old boy, so decided Id go pick him up. It would give me the chance to take a quick little drive, too. My driving test was coming up soon, and even though Id been driving the farm truck since I was 11, every bit of practice counted now. My little sister was in her room, doing whatever 15-year-old girls do on a wet weekend afternoon. I called out to her that I was going to grab Dad and headed up the hill in our sturdy white station wagon. With headlights and wipers on, crunching over the wet pebbles, I spotted something moving up ahead. It was Brydie, our Border Collie, running in small circles, clearly agitated. Although she was technically the family pet, she was completely devoted to Dad and accompanied him wherever he went around our cattle property. Why was she here, what was she so wound up about and where the hell was Dad? Then I spotted the still shape.

I slowed as I approached, foggily imagining that Dad might have just been worn out from the run uphill and had stopped for a quick siesta. Weird thing to do in the wet.

I pulled over, unclipped my seatbelt and opened the door, still half expecting him to stand up, stretch and show a bit of gratitude for the free ride I was offering back to the warm, dry house. No movement.

Oi! I shouted. No reaction.

I ran over, shook his shoulder and pulled my hands back, stung by how stiff and cold he was. I tried to lift him, but he was too heavy. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Now properly panicking, I jumped back in the car, swerved around Dads lifeless body and floored it to the neighbours place, beeping the horn frantically as I hurtled down the concrete driveway to their farmhouse, screaming out of the window for them to call an ambulance. Jerry, our chain-smoking, ex-biker neighbour with the stiff leg from one too many accidents, followed me in his truck back to where Dad was lying while Meg, his wife, phoned for help. Jerry and Dad were mates who shared a dark sense of humour and a defiant approach to the effects of gravity on a hillside tractor, and Id never seen either of them scared of anything. Jerry looked extremely worried as he instinctively rolled and licked a ciggie while he felt for Dads pulse and paced around his body.