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and, mind you, that included the weekends. While we were living there he was responsible for the routine hospital work, the surgery, the clinics, the lot. And, because the dramas had no time schedule, rarely a night went by when he wasn’t called out of bed. What’s more, apart from annual holidays, we could only recall him having three days off in the past three years.
    ‘Enough is enough,’ I said. ‘For one, you need a break. For two, we both need a break to spend some quality time together.’
    So we decided to pack up the three kids and spend a nice, relaxing weekend as far away from it all as possible. To that end, the place we chose was the Australian Inland Mission Hospital out at Fitzroy Crossing.
    After Tony had organised things on the work front to cover for his absence, the day finally arrived. Early one Saturday morning we loaded the kids into the car and drove the 300 or so kilometres across to Fitzroy Crossing.
    Finally, we arrived. And what a relief. A whole weekend together lay ahead. What’s more, the girlsfrom the Inland Mission were so excited to see us. They’d even gone to the trouble of planning a big barbecue for the Saturday evening and had invited a few of the station people to come along, especially to meet the doctor and his family.
    Anyway, we were just settling into our accommodation when Halls Creek sent through an emergency radio call to the Derby base, informing them that a seven-year-old kiddie had accidentally shot a six-year-old in the chest. Of course, the Derby Hospital was without its doctor-surgeon, wasn’t it, and not being able to deal with such an extreme case on their own, they got in touch with Tony.
    The next thing I knew, the Queen Air aircraft had been dispatched from Derby and was on its way to pick up Tony at Fitzroy Crossing and take him to Halls Creek — which duly happened. Then at Halls Creek they picked up the gunshot victim and flew the child back to Derby Hospital. Tony remained there in surgery for most of the Saturday afternoon and into the night until he was confident that the child was out of danger and was on the road to recovery.
    ‘Bugger it,’ he said, ‘I’m still going to have this weekend away with the family.’
    So he asked the matron at the Derby Hospital if he could borrow her car for a couple of days. This she agreed to and, at nine o’clock that night, Tony left Derby and drove the 300 or so kilometres back to Fitzroy Crossing to be greeted by a dinner of cold remains from the barbecue that’d been held in his, absent, honour.
    Anyway, we finally wandered off to bed sometime later that night or, more than likely, early the followingmorning. By that stage, Tony was so exhausted he had trouble getting to sleep. But, not to worry, this was our weekend away from it all and we could take it easy and sleep in.
    At seven o’clock on Sunday morning, Wyndham Hospital contacted Derby Hospital, who in turn rang Tony to inform him there’d been a very bad car accident involving three teenagers. One person had been killed and two were badly injured, one of whom had sustained severe head injuries. Tony was needed to do surgery.
    However, during the three-way phone link-up between Wyndham Hospital, Derby Hospital and Tony at Fitzroy Crossing, an electrical storm hit and contact between the two hospitals was lost. It couldn’t have happened at a worse moment. I mean, there they were, right in the middle of discussing blood groups and trying to organise whatever equipment Tony might need so that the hospital staff could get everything ready for when he arrived in Wyndham.
    Anyway, the plane left the Derby base at nine o’clock that morning and picked Tony up at Fitzroy Crossing, for the second time. I think they had a theatre sister and an anaesthetist on board on that trip as well, but I’m not sure. Off they flew to Wyndham where Tony remained in surgery all that day and well into the evening.
    Tony eventually stabilised one of the lads enough for