Читать книгу Emergency At Bayside - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 5

PULLING off her ID tag and stethoscope, Meg threw them into her locker and, as the changing room was empty, expended some of her frustration by slamming the door shut, then, for good measure, slammed it hard once again.

It didn’t help.

She hadn’t really expected it too.

‘Morning, Meg.’ Jess ran in and without pausing for breath started to undress at lightning speed. ‘This is the first time in more than thirty years of nursing I’ve been late. Can you believe it?’

Had it been anyone else Meg wouldn’t have believed it, but coming from Jess it was probably true. Trained in the days of starched uniforms and matrons, Jess ruled her world by the little silver fob watch neatly pinned to her crisp white blouse.

‘Was that Carla the student nurse I saw leaving here in tears?’

Meg nodded but didn’t elaborate—a move she knew would infuriate Jess, who liked to keep her finger on everyone’s pulse.

‘I thought she was doing really well; at least she has been on days.’ Jess’s Irish accent was as strong and sharp as Meg’s own mother’s. Maybe that was the reason Meg’s defences seemed to go on high alert whenever Jess approached; she always felt as if she were about to be scolded. ‘So, what did you have to tell her off about?’ Jess wasn’t being nosey—well, maybe a bit—but as they were both Associate Charge Nurses, any problems with the staff had to be discussed.

‘I wasn’t telling her off.’ Meg had pulled on her shorts and T-shirt and was now concentrating on combing the long dark curls, that had been clipped up all night, into some sort of shape before tying her hair loosely into a ponytail. ‘She was just upset about a patient we had in last night.’

‘Oh, were you busy?’

‘No, we were actually quiet for once, which was just as well.’ Meg paused before continuing, taking out her scrunchy and combing her hair again before adding, ‘We lost a child last night.’

Jess stopped filling her pockets with scissors, forceps and the other paraphernalia that Emergency nurses seemed to magic up at appropriate moments and stood still for a moment. ‘How old?’

‘Two.’ This was where most nurses would have gone into detail. Sat on the bench and told their colleague about the little kid who had been in the bath with no one watching him. The tiny lifeless bundle the paramedics had run in with. The prolonged resuscitation that everyone had known was useless, but no one had wanted to be the one to call. The agony of talking to the parents. The utter desolation at such a senseless waste of a promising young life.

But not Meg.

Meg finished her hair and turned around. ‘I’m the peer support person for Emergency so I thought I ought to go over it with her. She’s still pretty upset; it was her first death,’ Meg added.

‘Poor Carla.’ Jess took a deep breath. ‘Sure, your first death’s bad enough when it’s a ninety-year-old, but to have a child… Would you like me to have a quiet word with her?’ Jess’s intentions were well meant, but Meg shook her head.

‘She’s off for a couple of days—the break will be good for her. But I might get her phone number and give her a ring—see if she wants to catch up for a coffee and go over anything again.’

‘What about you, Meg?’ Jess’s voice was wary; she was unsure of the reaction she might get. ‘Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I know you’re the peer support person, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to go over things.’ She waited for a response but Meg just stood there. ‘If you’re upset….’

‘I’m fine; this sort of thing comes with the territory. It was hard on Carla because she hadn’t witnessed anything like it before; I’m used to it.’

‘I know. It’s just—’ Jess swallowed hard ‘—this sort of thing affects us all, and if you do need to talk I’m here for you.’

Meg gave a dismissive smile. ‘I’m fine, Jess. Honestly.’

To be fair, Jess might be a little irritating, might be a drama queen, but Meg knew she meant well, and had they been sitting in the staff room with a cup of coffee, then maybe she would have opened up a bit. But that was the problem with debriefing, with peer support or trauma counselling, or whatever new name Admin dreamed up for it: sometimes emotions couldn’t just be switched on. Jess—busy, rushing to start her shift—together with Meg—weary, teary and ready to go home—wasn’t exactly the ideal combination. It just wasn’t going to happen this morning.

Jess knew when a conversation was over and decided not to push it, instead choosing sensibly to change the subject. ‘Are you staying to meet the new consultant?’

‘I’d forgotten about that. Is it this morning he starts, then?’

‘Yep, the canteen’s even putting on a breakfast in the staff room. Surely you’re not going to miss out on a free feed and the chance to meet the new boy wonder?’

Meg gave a wry smile. ‘He doesn’t sound that wonderful to me. From what I’ve heard, Flynn Kelsey has spent the last two years doing research.’

‘Ah, but his research has all been in trauma and resuscitation.’ Jess wagged a finger. ‘It’s all relevant—at least that’s the propaganda being fed to us from Admin. The truth is, they’re just relieved someone’s actually taken up the position; poor old Dr Campbell can hardly run the department alone. Who knows? They might have actually got it right for once and Flynn Kelsey will turn out to be the fantastic doctor that they’re promising.’

‘If he’s that good, what was he doing with his head buried in books for the last two years? Hands-on experience is more relevant,’ Meg said firmly. ‘We can all sit and read about it. Rolling your sleeves up and getting on with the job does it for me every time.’

‘So you’re not staying to welcome him?’

‘I’m sure I’ll meet him soon enough.’

‘Come on,’ Jess pushed. Meg’s red-rimmed eyes were worrying her. ‘Just for a quick coffee?’

Meg feigned a yawn. ‘Honestly, Jess, I’m exhausted. My bed sounds far more tempting right now.’ Picking up her bag, Meg slung it casually over her shoulder. ‘Bye then.’ As she got to the door Meg paused for a second. ‘Oh, Jess, I’ve left all the paperwork from Luke—the child last night—in the Unit Manager’s office. Dr Leighton needs to write up all the drugs that were given; I’ve left the list clipped to the casualty card.’

‘Sure.’

As Meg turned to go she let out a small sigh. ‘Poor kid.’ Her voice was soft, more a whisper, really, and Jess knew that the words had come out involuntarily. But Meg recovered quickly, smothering her display of emotion with another huge yawn. ‘I’m dead on my feet; I’d better get home.’

* * *

Meg wasn’t tired, not in the slightest. In fact as she drove her small car out of the car park she debated whether or not to stop at the shops and pick up some groceries, knowing that when she got to bed all she was going to do was lie there staring at the ceiling, going over and over the night’s events. But shopping was more than she could deal with this morning. Choosing between wholemeal and white, full cream or low-fat milk seemed so trivial, so irrelevant, when a child was dead.

Poor kid.

Driving along Beach Road, for a second Meg hesitated, her foot poised over the brake, wondering whether or not to stop at her parents’. Tea, toast and sympathy from her mother sounded wonderful, but, given the fact that tensions on the home front were running at an all-time high, Meg decided against the idea, instead flicking on her indicator and heading up the hill for home.

Wincing as she changed gear, Meg remembered why her hand was hurting this morning. Remembered Dr Leighton looking over to the flat line on the monitor.

‘We’ve been going for forty-five minutes with no response. I think we should call it. Does anyone have any objections?’

The ampoule of adrenaline Meg had been holding in her hand had shattered then, but she hadn’t let on. ‘Perhaps we should keep going while I talk to his parents. It might help them to come in and see us still working on him.’ Throwing the shattered ampoule into the sharps bin, Meg had wiped her hand and applied a plaster to the small deep cut, then taken a deep steadying breath before heading for the interview room and walking in and delivering the shattering news. The look of utter desolation on Luke’s parents’ faces as she’d gently broken the news, then walked them the short distance to resus, had stayed with her throughout the night. The utter grief as they had done what no parent should ever have to.

Said goodbye to their child.

Up the winding hill she drove, the stunning view of the bay that filled her car window doing nothing to soothe her. Instead the conversation she had had with Luke’s parents replayed in her mind so clearly that it might just as well have been coming from the car’s stereo.

Meg had driven this road hundreds, maybe thousands of times. She knew every last bend in it, knew the subtle gear changes that ensured a smooth ride home. But this morning the painful image of Luke and his mother that flashed into her mind, the tears that sprang from her eyes, the sob that escaped from her lips, were all it took to make her lose her concentration. And in that tiny second the bend she had taken so easily, so many times, suddenly loomed towards her. With a start of horror Meg realised she had taken it too fast. Before she could even slam on her brakes the car shot off the road. There was no time to attempt to gain control, no time for anything—just a panicked helplessness as she heard someone yelling out, heard the slam of metal, the pop of glass as it shattered around her.

An ear-splitting shriek seemed to be going on for ever. It reminded her of Luke’s mother. Only when the car somersaulted and she felt the impact of the wheel thudding into her chest did the screaming stop, and in a moment of clarity before she lost consciousness Meg realised that the person who had been screaming was her.