15‘I want you to check her out,’ said Tracey Cartwright, her face white and drawn, almost nodding off as she sat back in the chair, head against the wall. ‘Her head looks funny.’
Vince had come to work the next day eager for the distracting effect of the routine slog of general practice. Skylah, now ten days old, was his first patient.
‘How’s she feeding?’ he asked.
Tracey shrugged. She had on a shapeless black top, tracksuit bottoms, and ugg boots. Not quite the yummy mummy look I used to see in the Eastern suburbs.
‘She’s on the bottle now. I got sick of her hangin’ off me boob.’
Vince frowned and gestured to the two boys playing in the corner. ‘But you breastfed these two okay, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, I had plenty of milk but I got sick of her cryin’ all the time.’ She avoided Vince’s
