Edition 17
Staying Alive

- Published 4th September, 2007
- ISBN: 9780733321269
- Extent: 264 pp
- Paperback (234 x 153mm)
Twenty million people have died from AIDS globally. Many died because its management was hijacked by those who believed it was caused by sin, not a virus. Bill Bowtell, one of the architects of Australia’s successful HIV/AIDS policy, passionately and persuasively argues that HIV can be eradicated within three generations.
With political will, the lessons of successful HIV prevention can – and must – be applied globally. As the second phase of the pandemic looms in this region, this is an urgent plea.
Wars are also urgent. Donna Mulhearn kept a diary during her time doing humanitarian work in Iraq, and describes four terrifying days caught in the crossfire in Fallujah.
Nor is heroism confined to the battlefield or the global stage: writers in this issue reflect on personal battles to stay alive, and explore the implications of death. But when it is time to die, Dr Frank Brennan describes how this can be done with dignity and grace.
Staying Alive puts personal dilemmas of survival in the context of the big picture, and maps out new and thought-provoking ways of thinking about the human condition.
In this Edition
My Mount Everest
We stand at the precipice of a grave threat to our public health ... [Hepatitis C] affects people from all walks of life in every state, in every country. And unless we do something about it soon, it will kill more people than AIDS.–...
Applying the paradox of prevention: Eradicate HIV
Shortlisted, Queensland Premier’s Literary Awards 2008, Science Writer Award IMAGINE IT: SOME fifty thousand young Australians suddenly struck down and killed by a new virus. One hundred and forty thousand more infected and kept alive only with complex, expensive and painful therapies. The outlook is...
The unblooded author
THE CLOSEST I have ever been to civil violence is about one kilometre. That is not very close, comparatively speaking. I happened to be in Dublin during the bombings of 1974, when three arteries out of the city were blown up during peak hour....
Life in death
AT THE AGE of twenty-nine, I was in my last year as a registrar in psychiatry at the University of Padua in northern Italy. As was customary in that school at the time, I was assigned – for the first time – a newly...
The challenge of genocide
THE HOLOCAUST CONTINUES to pose a challenge to history. In History, Memory and Mass Atrocity (Vallentine Mitchell, 2006), Holocaust historian Dan Stone argues against approaches that suggest the mass murder of the Jews was carried out in a bureaucratic spirit without passion or emotion,...
Opting out
FOR MANY AUSTRALIANS, suicide is still a secret, shameful business. Like incest and child abuse, it doesn't happen to us. The secrecy lies, I think, in its universal and seductive power. It can tempt anyone at any time, as the logical answer to unbearable...
Belfast
BELFAST. EARLY 1970s. I am a fourteen-year-old boy on a shopping expedition with my mother. Objective: the purchase of a new overcoat for school, and church, and general overall nice presentation. Few things in life are more exquisitely embarrassing for a young boy than...
Deaths I have outsmarted
SOMETIMES, MY SISTER seemed to be beckoning it, and I would steer well clear of her. Down the back, away from the house, she would lay out a bath towel and sunbake. When she turned, the sun would bounce off her baby oil, and...
Playing with fire
"NOTHING MUCH" WAS the usual reply when asked what was going on. Nothing much went on in the summer of my twelfth year, the twentieth year of drought in our valley across the Great Dividing Range, which our geography teacher said did not divide...
A doctor’s notebook
The woman from County Meath THE WARMTH OF the Dublin day caught everyone by surprise. Through the window I could see children playing in the garden. We had walked into the visitors' room. The family was waiting. They were from County Meath. He was a...
Conscripts to the cavalry
ON A SPRING day in 1971, my husband, my best friend and I set off from Boston, Massachusetts bound for Washington, DC. We walked down the street together, we stood together near the entrance to the Mass Pike, and in unison we thrust our...
Sex and the single bed
A HEIGHT-ADJUSTIBLE HOSPITAL bed. At first I didn't understand what the nurses meant. For a moment I pictured our queen-sized mattress atop some contraption that the nurses, who visited our home daily, raised and lowered at their will and command. Then I understood what...
Yahtzee and the art of happiness
"SINS HAVE LONG shadows." A Chinese student said this to my husband when he heard that John had missed out on two lecturing positions. John had been teaching at the university for several years, but only on short contracts. The whole selection process seemed...
In the waiting room
TANYA SITS AT the side of the couch, her head resting on her hand. She smiles when I say "hello", but her two-year old daughter has been sick with a cold and Tanya's caught it. A headache and a blocked nose add to the...
The juror’s tale
ON A STEAMY Sydney day, I find myself in a crowded room, summoned for jury service. There are about fifty of us, all called by chance in a lottery we want to lose. The court officials, who could be models for pompous officials in...
The road to Fallujah
APRIL 2004 FALLUJAH: Driving through the empty streets of Fallujah, I felt the stench of death in the air. I could feel the terror of the families locked behind the closed doors. Already seven hundred dead. The graveyards were full, so the local soccer...
The best of times, the worst of times
BEHIND THE PRINCESS Marina Hospital, not far from the centre of Gaborone, are the two small buildings that house Botswana's largest anti-retroviral therapy clinic for people with HIV/AIDS. Alongside the red-brick blocks of the main hospital complex, these prefabricated buildings seem modest and temporary,...
Learning from forgotten epidemics
A panic had set in and people from the infected area were hurrying to be inoculated. The crush was dreadful and the crowd fought and struggled. [When injected] ... the men shouted and swore and they charged out like mad bulls. The women didn't...
Post mortem
I REMOVED THE sheet covering the cadaver and tried not to focus on the overall appearance of the deceased. This was not quite a routine post mortem: the dead man was the husband of a colleague in the public hospital – this hospital –...
Hanging on
In memory of David Myers, 1942–2007 HENRY SAT DESPONDENT in The Golden Bowl. The restaurant was empty because he was early, and he was early because he had nothing much else to do. By noon Henry was hungry: hungry for food, hungry for company. Thirsty...