That Andrew was able to organise someone to make the special sword for him was a minor miracle in itself. Centrelink had paid Andrew twice at once, by mistake. On the same day that Andrew decided to have the special sword made up, he had more money in his bank account than any day since his mother had died, leaving a small inheritance for Andrew. Andrew wasn’t allowed to leave the rehabilitation centre yet, so he ordered the sword from a specialist machinist by mail. Andrew sent detailed drawings of his sword through the post, showing the secret compartments. The diagram, with exact measurements, was detailed enough for the machinist. The machinist was an expert and the sword only took a day to make.

While he waited for the sword to arrive, Andrew investigated the art of sword swallowing on the Internet. He started at Wikipedia, but all he learnt there was that sword swallowers have to learn to suppress their gag reflex. Andrew decided that was a good place to start. Day after day, Andrew practiced the art of putting his fingers in the back of his mouth and not gagging. It was hard, but with effort Andrew learnt to suppress his gag reflex to a few muscle movements that were too small to be seen. Andrew searched many times on the Internet to find out more about sword swallowing. He was disappointed to learn that there was no trick to keep you safe when you swallow a sword. He was really going to have to learn how to swallow a sword. But he learnt that alignment of the head is everything, so that the mouth, pharynx and oesophagus are in a straight line. It took Andrew weeks of practice to get the sword as far as the lower pharynx. But the hardest part was learning how to use the tip of the sword to swing the epiglottis out of the way. That trick took a long time to learn.

Months later, in a leafy suburb of Perth, Ali was brushing her long black hair in front of the bathroom mirror. She was thinking about her patients. Her thoughts often turned to her patients during her quiet times. They were the major focus of her life.

Ali’s thoughts wandered from an elderly patient called Fred, to a young woman named Erin. They were both alcoholics. Her mind then wandered to Andrew. How long had it been since she’d seen Andrew? Probably months. Suddenly a vision of Andrew trying to swallow a sword entered her mind. “Oh my God! What was I thinking?” Ali had just realised what she had done. She had encouraged him to take up sword swallowing. Was she crazy? What was she thinking? Her, a doctor, telling someone to try to swallow a real sword! She thought back to her days as an intern at a city hospital. A boy had been brought in after trying to swallow a sword. He had bled to death when the sword had ruptured his oesophagus.

Ali grabbed her mobile. She had a feeling she had Andrew’s number in there. She didn’t usually keep patients’ numbers in her private phone, but once she had felt the need to encourage Andrew to stay on his Antabuse tablets by ringing him every day. “He’ll kill himself” thought Ali. Ali suddenly felt a feeling of cold dread. For a doctor to tell a patient to do something so dangerous was a terrible mistake. Andrew could easily die if he tried to swallow a sword. The worst thing was, Andrew was always under the influence of alcohol, his memory was bad and he couldn’t concentrate. Andrew no longer had the ability to judge what was dangerous and what was not.

“Pick up Andrew, pick up” muttered Ali, as the phone rang. Nobody picked up. Nobody answered.

As Andrew’s phone rang, Andrew lay on the ground. Beside him lay a sword. A bottle of paraffin oil sat on a chair near a large black table. Andrew’s skin was an intense yellow colour. Andrew was dying. His body, after years of alcohol abuse, could stand no more. His liver no longer contained any working liver tissue, only scar tissue. If he had tried it, the sword trick would have killed him. But Andrew would never get to perform the trick. The alcohol had beaten him to it. The alcohol had won.

This story is dedicated to Andrew James Hillam. Died 13 April 1997 aged 39 years. RIP.