“Can I add a next of kin?” I ask the woman at my window during my shift in the radiology reception of a busy Melbourne hospital. Part of my role is to screen patients to check if the scan is safe for them, and we often need to contact a next of kin for this. The light slips from her eyes. “No one,” she says. “I don’t have anyone. I’m alone here.” She has a Spanish name and accent. I wonder how long she has lived in Australia. I think of offering to be her next of kin, since I speak Spanish and don’t have family in Australia either.
That afternoon I book an appointment for a smiley, curly haired woman who jokes with her adult daughter. The woman needs a scan with sedation. She needs someone to take her home afterwards but her daughter is only here on holiday as she lives in another state. The woman has no one to pick her up. I wonder about other patients, the ones with booked appointments who often don’t attend. Are they sacrificing their health because they have no support?
On holiday in New Zealand in 2019 my mother and I had a car accident. While driving back from Hanmer Springs towards Ōamaru an icy downpour swept across the country. Invisible layers of dark ice covered the roads. As we crossed a bridge over a raging river our tires slid, the car spun out of control and we crashed into the rail on the opposite side of the road. We were lucky not to go over. We were also fortunate to receive fast and thorough medical treatment. This included a stay in the cardiothoracic ward at Canterbury hospital, where my sister was a nurse. She became a minor celebrity on her ward for having both her mother and sister as patients.
My mother and I recovered well. My only ongoing ill effect is added strain on my knee – now the muscles on my hip are permanently detached. At some point I might need a knee replacement. I have an upstairs apartment and I know that after a knee replacement you cannot climb stairs. Sometimes I wonder how I will manage when the time comes.
After a night out a friend tripped while walking on one of Melbourne’s many cobbled alleyways. She fell badly and broke her elbow in three places. Afterwards her bone did not heal in the right way and it had to be re-broken. At the time she had multiple scans and appointments to negotiate, all while unable to drive.
One afternoon, over a cup of tea at her kitchen table, that friend brought up an idea: our group of friends could make arrangements to become one another’s next of kin. She suggested we swap medical histories, work numbers and the contact details of far-away family, whom we would notify in case of an emergency. Most of our group are nearing 50 and many of us do not have family here.
“We’ll need it more and more,” she pointed out. I thought about the medicines I’d discovered I was allergic to after nights spent vomiting in hospital. I thought about my ongoing symptoms after the car accident. It would be incredibly useful if someone here knew about these problems. We all agreed, then went off to prepare our files.
Having my file ready has given me a sense of security. If something goes wrong, my friend can access my information immediately and I can do the same for her.
Knowing that we have made that commitment to be there for one another is reassuring. We have been fortunate to be able to take responsibility for something important before it becomes a necessity.
Although I was not raised here I chose to live in Melbourne. Millions of people make similar choices, or live away from family through no choice at all. Finding my next of kin here is not just a relief – it has strengthened my connection to the beautiful city I call home.
