A memoir by an intensive care specialist is notable for its honesty and willingness to talk about the things that matter, writes Elspeth McLean.
THINGS THAT MATTER: Stories of life & death
David Galler
Allen & Unwin
The 1970s corner bar of Dunedin’s Captain Cook Tavern gets the thumbs-up as a learning establishment in this memoir from Auckland intensive care specialist David Galler.
He came to his medical training in Dunedin in 1977 after completing an "OK degree" and a stint as a Wellington bus driver.
Galler says much of his learning happened at the Captain Cook where the clientele was varied and stimulating and the emphasis was on conversation rather than drinking.
What he realised was what mattered most: people, life and the sanctity of the world we live in.
Galler reckons he’d "never get a look-in" at medical school now.
I hope that’s not true.
He’s the sort of doctor I’d want on the case if I were at death’s door; not just for his technical skills but his empathy, honesty and willingness to talk about the things that matter.
The book opens with the sudden death of Galler’s father, Aron, and his own agonising over whether he could have done more.
It ends with his mother Zosia’s death, 22 years later.
(His Polish Jewish parents came to Wellington as refugees after World War 2. The stunning Zosia was an Auschwitz survivor, haunted by the horrors of her past, but refusing to be full of hatred and bitterness.)
Between the accounts of these two very different deaths, we learn about Galler’s medical practice through
moving stories of his patients, told in a down-to-earth way which allows us to painlessly absorb and mull over sometimes complex medical and ethical information.
Galler suggests he and his brother Les, also an intensive care specialist, have been on a "mission from Dad" to humanise hospitals.
He recounts the touching story of Aron, in the days of severely restricted hospital visiting, scaling the drainpipe of Wellington Hospital for a glimpse of Les (6) who had been hit by a bus.
The account of the family gathering to discuss Zosia’s end-of-life wishes is also poignant.
"Finally, we got to the hardest thing for her to ask — for our time and our company, for her not to be alone when she needed us."
Accompanying his mother to the appointment with the consultant surgeon where she would explain she did not want more medical intervention, Galler admitted to being incredibly nervous.
(Consultants everywhere, take note.)
As the second (and apparently last) principal medical adviser to the minister of health and the director-general of health (2002-2010), Galler was given a hat emblazoned with WoG — Whole of Government — to remind him of the need for collaboration with other agencies.
But he says, "hat and hope" was not a plan and, while he is proud of work to improve hospital safety, he is critical of inaction on poverty and obesity prevention.
He wants broader thinking on population health to include such things as the impact of climate change, housing, employment, the minimum wage and diet.
As individuals, he doesn’t want us obsessing about "every little thing" but he suggests we "not smoke, drink or eat ourselves to an early grave".
"I care because I reckon if I met you I would like you. I care too because when it’s you at death’s door, it might be me in the middle of the night trying to get you working again. I care one more time because I am probably paying for your care and if I am paying for your care, someone else is missing out."
This book has the feel of being rushed and it left me wanting more.
Hopefully, Galler will soon be persuaded to sit still long enough to write a more comprehensive memoir.
- Elspeth McLean is an ODT columnist and former health reporter.
