Postcards from a New Republic

“He’s here” roars young Alroy as he races down the stairs. “Nana…… Doctor Cal is HEEERRREE!!!” Eileen already has the front door open and her arms outstretched to welcome her old friend Dr Calvin Quince. 

In a flash, Alroy is out the door and swinging out of his granduncle before the bus has even pulled away from the house, Eileen is right him and quickly wraps her arms around the pair of them.

“Oh Cal, let me get a good look at you” Eileen says as she reaches up to cup his face in her hands. Calvin Quince is Willa’s uncle and Eileen’s best friend in the world. Willa and Lucy grew up in the same estate and Willa’s parents, who died some time ago, were very close to Eileen. It was through them that she got to know Cal, although he lived in Europe and the US for most of his working life.

Cal spent the first half of his adult life working for multinational private pharmaceuticals. By the time he finished his PhD, the sector was already in decay, having never recovered from the rise of antimicrobial resistance in populations across the developed world. 

For decades, the World Health Organisation had warned of a post-antibiotic era. Governments failed to develop national antibiotic plans and pharmaceuticals active antibiotic discovery programmes dwindled. Shareholders and big-pharma leaders had no interest in investing in drugs whose widespread use was discouraged. 

States tried to step in through funding new research partnerships but ultimately, they couldn’t shift private pharma’s focus away from blockbuster drugs and to research and development critical to public health. 

Ireland’s PHS is held up across Europe as the gold standard of public care, but it hadn’t always been that way. It had taken time to rebuild the island’s health service after the Great Struggle. Nationalisation of the pharmaceutical industry was to be the last bastion of the profiteers and it was Dr Calvin Quince who led this final charge against them.

Alroy is dragging his granduncle’s bag into the bright messy hallway while yelling at Eileen and Cal to hurry up. As if on autopilot, they all head into the kitchen and plonk themselves down at the big wooden kitchen table laden with sandwiches, tea and Eileen’s much-loved lemon drizzle cake.

 “So Dr Cal, what did you bring me?” asks Alroy with a cheeky grin. Calvin has managed in sneak in a brown paper bag and hands it to Alroy. “Here you go kiddo, I hope you like it.” It’s a white lab coat with the words ‘Dr. Alroy’ stitched on in big bright blue letters. 

 “Sweet Mother of Devine Jesus!” the young fella roars whilst the two oldie goldies crack up. “Now I can come work with you!! I can be your assistant” he adds excitedly. 

When Alroy was about three years old, his Mums brought him to visit Cal at the National Drug Innovation Centre that he was central to setting up when nationalisation was underway. It was the first time he had seen his elderly granduncle in his white coat, “like the doctors on the telly” and from that day since he has called granduncle Dr Cal.

“Wait till my Mams’ sees me in this!” Alroy exclaims as he hops up on a chair to make sure Cal and Eileen can get a good look at him in his crisp white lab coat. “And the others are going to be so jealous” he adds mischievously. 

Eileen squeezes Cal’s hand and kisses him on the cheek. There is not a bad bone in that man’s body she thinks to herself. He pioneered the world’s first public pharmaceutical model, and where he led so many have followed now guaranteeing universal access across the world to first world drugs. Calvin has literally saved millions of lives and reinvigorated a sector now bursting at the seams with innovation and cutting-edge technology. 

Alroy plonks himself in between Cal and Eileen. He straightens out the collars of his lab coat, brushes back his fringe and with a comically serious face begins to explain how chemical elements and compounds work together. At that moment, every sadness, every loss, every sacrifice is washed away for the two old friends. 

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