Free Desperate Measures by Cath Staincliffe Page B

fifteen she could only do a few hours and people in the area knew she was a user. She would not be trusted, not even to wash pots, until she had proved herself. Maybe she’d go to college then, Adele thought. Find her feet, learn a trade, have a brighter future.
    He’s cut my dose,’ Marcie had said slamming her bag onto the kitchen counter.
    ‘Already?’
    ‘Cut it in half.’ There was confusion in her eyes and panic too.
    Adele felt an answering burst of alarm. ‘Why? Did he say why?’
    ‘Just said it’s the best thing, so I don’t get too dependent.’
    Of course you’re dependent, Adele thought, you’re an addict, this is a substitute. ‘I’ll have a word with him,’ Adele said, ‘we’ll go in tomorrow. Tell them it’s too soon. Yes?’
    Marcie nodded.
     
    Adele had to argue with the receptionist to get in to see him but she held her ground, just kept repeating that there was a serious problem with Marcie’s medication that she needed to discuss with Dr Halliwell. It sounded silly after the third repetition but she kept her voice level and maintained eye contact, with Marcie fidgeting at her side, and as the queue built up behind her she felt the pressure increase on the woman, who finally said, ‘Well, I can’t give you a time, he’s fully booked all morning.’
    ‘Whenever,’ Adele said. ‘We need to see the doctor and we need to see him today.’
    They waited an hour and twenty-five minutes before an apparent no-show meant they got called in.
    He greeted them by name. He had a grandfatherly style, smiling, at least to start with.
    ‘We feel the reduction in Marcie’s dosage is too much, too soon,’ Adele said.
    The smile disappeared.
    ‘I can assure you,’ he said, ‘that I’m satisfied she has stabilized on the current dose and best practice is now to reduce the amount.’
    ‘But she’s not—’
    He held up a finger to silence her, his eyes now flat and cold. ‘We do not simply want to replace one addiction with another.’
    ‘It’s not enough,’ Marcie said, shakily.
    His eyes flicked her way and back. ‘I’ll be the best judge of that,’ he said. ‘In my opinion your best chance of recovery from drug abuse rests in sticking with my treatment plan. Otherwise we are all wasting our time.’
    Adele felt a flush of anger, the afterburn of resentment. ‘Based on what?’ she said, sounding more bullish than she meant to.
    ‘Based on a lifetime’s experience in medical practice.’
    ‘We could get a second opinion,’ Adele said.
    ‘That is your prerogative. The relationship between doctor and patient is one of trust and cooperation. If that breaks down …’
    He was threatening them, the arrogant wanker. Adele had no idea how easy or hard it might be to find a new GP, to get the help Marcie needed. And if it took some time, if there was a gap in her treatment, she could soon be back on the streets.
    ‘A cut in half is a big step,’ Adele said, ‘and patients must vary. If that was staggered, say over a month or two.’ She spoke too quickly, babbling.
    Dr Halliwell watched her with unforgiving eyes and then said, ‘If I thought that was appropriate then that’s what I would have done. We can’t all be experts.’
    Marcie made a little sound, a sigh or a laugh, Adele couldn’t tell.
    ‘She’s my daughter,’ Adele said, ‘and I believe her when she says it’s too early, that she won’t be able to cope.’
    ‘She’s my patient, Mrs Young. Addicts will do anything to get a fix, perhaps Marcie is not as committed to recovery as she should be.’
    ‘How dare you!’ Adele said. ‘Why won’t you listen to what she’s saying instead of slagging her off? She needs your help!’ She was trembling with rage, her face hot, her ears singing.
    ‘I’ll thank you to lower your voice,’ he said sharply, ‘or leave.’ He turned to Marcie. ‘I’ll see you next week. Believing you can do it is half the battle. This may well be a bout of cold feet.’ He sat back and