“The baby’s breech, come quickly.” The midwife’s voice was sharp and squeaky. She had already hung up the phone. My head, muddled with sleep, began to pound. I staggered out of bed, stripped off my pyjamas and dragged on an old shirt and jeans, pulling my straggly hair into a rough ponytail. I grabbed my jacket on the way out the door.
The full article is accessible to AMA members and paid subscribers. Login to read more or purchase a subscription now.
Please note: institutional and Research4Life access to the MJA is now provided through Wiley Online Library.