Читать книгу Her Real Family Christmas - Kate Hardy - Страница 9

‘IT’S ALL RIGHT, darling.’ Daniel stroked his daughter’s hair, and hoped that the panic seeping through his veins didn’t show in his voice. ‘Don’t try to talk. Just breathe. In for two, out for two. Good girl. And again. In for two, out for two.’

How could Mia have got so much worse in one short hour?

The old trick of a steamy bathroom helping to calm a child’s airways wasn’t working. She couldn’t stop coughing; and it was a horrible, barking, croupy cough. He’d just bet that if she were wired up to a pulse oximeter, her oxygen stats would be way too low.

He had to act. Now. He needed to take her to hospital.

Should he call an ambulance? No, it’d scare her too much. And in any case he could drive her there quicker than an ambulance could get to his house and back to the hospital.

Except that meant Mia would be on her own in the back of the car, in her seat, with nobody to hold her hand and calm her down. Sure, he could call his mum or his sister and they’d come straight over to help—but that would mean waiting for them to get to his house. And right now he didn’t think waiting was an option.

Not for the first time, Daniel wished he wasn’t a single dad. If that stupid, selfish elderly driver who’d mown down his wife on the footpath hadn’t been so stubborn and had taken a taxi that day, instead of driving a car she really hadn’t been capable of handling any more.

But wishing wasn’t going to bring Meg back. It was pointless and self-indulgent, and he was only letting himself wish it now because he was panicking that he’d let his daughter down. Panicking that he’d lose his precious girl because he hadn’t kept a close enough eye on her and realised how bad her symptoms were getting.

What kind of useless father was he?

What kind of useless doctor was he?

He scooped Mia up into his arms. ‘I think,’ he said softly, ‘we need to get you some special medicine for that cough. And we don’t have any indoors. So I need to take you to where I work, OK?’

Mia nodded, her brown eyes huge. So like Meg’s. Guilt spiked through him; right now he was letting Meg down as well as Mia.

‘Good girl. Let’s go.’ Daniel grabbed a blanket from her room on the way, along with her favourite teddy, and closed the front door behind him. ‘Daddy’s going to be driving so I can’t hold your hand, but Fred Bear’s going to give you a special cuddle for me so you don’t feel lonely, OK?’ He strapped her into her car seat, put Fred Bear into her arms, and arranged the blanket quickly so she wouldn’t get cold.

He talked to her all the way to the hospital. All the way from scooping her out of her car seat until they got to the reception of the emergency department. And, all the way, the only thing that he could hear from her was that dreadful deep cough.

To his relief, the triage nurse saw them immediately, and sent her straight through to the paediatric assessment unit.

The doctor on duty wasn’t one he knew, but that didn’t matter—just as long as she treated his daughter right now.

‘Hello, Mia. I’m Dr Stephanie Scott,’ the doctor said, crouching down so she was at the child’s height.

Mia managed the first syllable of a reply before she started coughing.

‘It’s OK, sweetheart, you don’t have to talk,’ Stephanie said. ‘I can hear exactly what’s wrong with you. What I’m going to do now is put a special mask on your face, which will help you breathe a bit better and not cough quite so much, and I’d also like to put a special sleeve on your finger. It won’t hurt. It just shines a light through your finger and tells me some numbers that will help me to make you feel better. Is that OK?’

The little girl nodded.

Daniel knew what Stephanie Scott was checking for when she put the oximeter on Mia’s finger: pulse and oxygen saturation. Good. Just what he would do.

Stephanie looked at the readings and smiled at the little girl. ‘That’s what I thought it would say. Mia, I’m going to give you some special medicine through another mask that will really help with that cough, and then I need to talk to Daddy for a little bit because I think he’s going to find it easier to talk to me than you are, right now. Is that OK with you?’

At the little girl’s nod, she glanced over at Daniel. ‘I’m going to give her a medicine called adrenalin—it will help a lot with her breathing. And I’m going to do it through a nebuliser so all she has to do is breathe it in. It looks a lot scarier than it is, but she’s going to be absolutely fine, OK?’

‘OK.’ Daniel was holding it together. Just. But he found himself relaxing as he watched her work. Stephanie Scott clearly knew what she was doing and she was really good with Mia, talking her through what she was doing as she hooked the little girl up to the nebuliser, and reassuring her all the while. And that smile—she had the kind of smile that lit up a room.

Daniel caught his thoughts and grimaced. What on earth was he doing, thinking about that sort of thing when his daughter was desperately ill? Especially when he hadn’t been involved with anyone since Meg’s death, four years ago, and had concentrated on his daughter and his job rather than his social life? Hot shame flooded through his cheeks, mingled with guilt. Right at that moment, he was at the end of his tether and his head felt as if it was going to implode under all the pressure.

‘Mr Connor?’ Stephanie asked.

He shook himself. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t catch what you said.’

‘I was asking if Mia has any family history of asthma or any kind of allergies.’

‘No, none.’

‘Does Mia wheeze at all or say her chest feels tight or hurts?’

‘No.’

‘OK. Do you ever notice that Mia’s a bit short of breath or her nostrils flare?’

Daniel realised swiftly that Stephanie was running through a list of asthma symptoms. ‘No. Is that what you think it is? Asthma?’

‘It’s quite a strong possibility,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘Mia just has a cold. They always go to her chest and she ends up with a bad cough—she had bronchiolitis when she was tiny and she was in here for a week on oxygen.’

Stephanie nodded. ‘Colds are often worse for little ones after they’ve had RSV. And I guess seeing her here on oxygen is reminding you of that? It’s tough.’

‘Yes,’ he admitted. It brought back all the nights when he and Meg had taken turns to sit at their tiny baby’s bedside, feeding her through a nasogastric tube because the virus had left Mia too exhausted to drink normally. ‘I guess I panicked a bit.’

‘No, you did exactly the right thing, bringing her in,’ Stephanie reassured him. ‘She wasn’t getting as much oxygen as I’d like, so the medication’s going to help a lot. Though I’d also like to admit her overnight and keep an eye on her. So she’s had a cold recently?’

‘For three or four days. And yesterday it went to that croupy cough.’ He sighed. ‘Usually a steamy bathroom helps. I get her to drink warm blackcurrant or something like that, and keep her sitting upright on my lap.’

‘Which are all exactly the right things to do to treat a cough,’ Stephanie said. ‘Colds are viral infections, Mr Connor, so antibiotics won’t do anything to help and I won’t prescribe them, but liquid paracetamol will help to keep Mia’s temperature down.’

Daniel thought about telling Stephanie that he was a doctor and he was well aware of the problems with antibiotic resistance, but that wouldn’t help Mia—and his daughter was a lot more important than his professional pride. ‘I last gave her some of that about four hours ago, so she’s due some more now anyway,’ he said. ‘The steamy bathroom didn’t work this time.’

‘Does she get many coughs like this?’

‘Too many,’ he admitted. ‘She hates having time off school when this happens, but she gets so tired and the cough just won’t stop.’

Stephanie looked thoughtful. ‘Has your family doctor prescribed corticosteroids for her?’

‘No.’

‘It’s usually a treatment for asthma, but it’s also very good for reducing inflammation in airways when children have this sort of virus. And I should explain that corticosteroids are the same kind of steroids that the body produces naturally, not the sort you associate with bodybuilders.’

Yes, it was way, way too late now to tell Stephanie Scott that he was a doctor; it would just embarrass them both. But Daniel liked the clear way she explained things. It was a pity she was on the emergency department team, as he had a feeling that she’d be good with neonates. Unless she was a locum, maybe? He’d check that when he was back on duty and, if she was a locum, he’d get Theo to add Stephanie to their list. She’d be a real asset to their team.

Mia’s breathing started to ease as the medication did its job. Stephanie glanced at the readout on the oximeter. ‘I’m happier now. She’s responding nicely. Mia, I’d like you to stay here tonight just so we can make sure that cough’s getting better or give you more of the special medicine if it doesn’t. Daddy can stay with you if he wants to—’ she looked at him ‘—or maybe Mia’s mum might like to stay with her?’

Daniel was pretty sure that Mia’s mum would be there in spirit; but, oh, how he wished she could be there in body, too. He’d had four years now of being a single parent, and it didn’t get any easier. Missing Meg hadn’t got much easier, either. Though, between them, Mia and his work kept him too busy to focus on how lonely he felt. He had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. ‘I’ll stay with her,’ he said gruffly.

Stephanie took him up to the children’s ward, settled Mia in and made sure that Daniel was comfortable, then sorted out the paperwork. ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow before the end of my shift,’ she said. ‘If you need anything, just go and have a word with the nurse. If it’s an emergency, then you press that button there and someone will be straight with you.’

He already knew all that. But he appreciated the way she was looking after them and it would be churlish to say anything. ‘Thank you.’

‘No worries.’ She squeezed Mia’s hand. ‘You try to get some rest, sweetheart, OK?’

The little girl nodded tiredly.

‘I’ll see you later.’

Stephanie was almost tempted to call in and see the Connors on her break. Mia’s father had looked so tired and worried. And it was unusual for a dad to be at the hospital with a child on his own; in her experience, mothers usually took over when a child was ill. Unless maybe Mia’s mum wasn’t well herself, or had been working a night shift. Or, given the way Mr Connor had flinched when she’d mentioned Mia’s mum, maybe he was a single dad and he was worried about the fact his daughter had become ill so quickly when he was looking after her.

No. She needed to keep some professional distance. Besides, she knew better than to get involved—especially given the way her world had imploded the last time she’d got involved with someone else’s medical problems. It had put her marriage on its final crash-and-burn trajectory; although it had been four years now since the divorce, it still hurt to think about the way things had gone so badly wrong. The way all her dreams had blown up in her face. The way she’d managed to lose a second family. And all because she’d put her job first.

Now her job was all she had. And that had to be enough.

She shook herself. Enough of the self-pity. She needed to concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing: working the night shift on the paediatric assessment unit. Though her shift was reasonably quiet, and that gave her time to research her hunch on Mia Connor’s condition.

When she’d done the handover at the end of her shift, she called up to the children’s ward to see how Mia was getting on.

Mia’s dad looked as if he’d barely slept and, although Mia was sleeping, the little girl was still coughing in her sleep.

‘Hi,’ he said, giving Stephanie a tired smile.

‘Rough night?’ she asked sympathetically.

He nodded. ‘But I’m glad I could be here for her.’

‘I’ve been thinking about Mia. Given that you don’t have a family history of asthma, I think she has reactive airways. Whenever anyone gets a cold, their airways tend to get a bit swollen, but if someone has reactive airways their systems really overreact.’ She drew a swift diagram on a piece of paper.

‘Basically, these are Mia’s lungs. They work a bit like a tree, with her windpipe as the trunk and the smaller airways like branches. The airways are covered in muscle—a bit like the bark of a tree—and inside they have mucous membranes, which produce mucus to keep the lungs clean. When she gets a cold, her muscles tighten and the mucous membranes swell and produce more mucus than usual. That makes her airways narrow, which in turn makes it harder for her to breathe.’

She glanced at him to check that he was following what she’d said; it was the clearest way she could explain things, but he obviously hadn’t slept much overnight in the chair next to his daughter’s bed and she wasn’t sure how much of this he was taking in.

‘Reactive airways.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘So can you give her something for it?’

‘Yes. Corticosteroids, an inhaler and a nebuliser. I’ll write the prescription, but as Mia’s asleep at the moment I don’t want to wake her. One of my colleagues will show you how to use them when she does wake. The corticosteroids will stop the swelling in her throat, so if you get her to use the inhaler and nebuliser as soon as you spot the symptoms, hopefully she won’t end up with that really croupy cough next time.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Though there are sometimes side effects,’ Stephanie warned. ‘She might have a headache or an upset tummy, or be sick. If that’s the case, your family doctor can review the treatment and prescribe a slightly different medication, but this one should do the trick.’

‘I appreciate that.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘And thank you for being so reassuring last night. You were really good with Mia.’

His praise warmed her—and that was dangerous. She never let herself react like this to anyone. She was good at her job and she did what needed to be done; but she didn’t allow anyone too close, patient or colleague. She’d learned after Joe that she was better off on her own. Nobody to get her hopes up, and nobody to let her down.

She shrugged off his praise and gave him a small smile. ‘No worries. It’s what I’m supposed to do.’ She wrote on Mia’s chart. ‘Do you have any questions, or is there anything you’re not clear about with her condition and the treatment?’

‘No, it’s all fine. Thanks.’

‘OK. Well, good luck.’ She shook his hand, and left the department.

Four days later, Stephanie was called in to the maternity department to check over a baby after an emergency Caesarean section.

The obstetric surgeon was still in the middle of the operation, so Stephanie introduced herself to the midwife and the registrar and waited for the baby to be delivered.

‘So what’s the history?’ she asked.

‘The mum had pre-eclampsia—it came on really suddenly,’ the midwife explained. ‘She was fine at her last check-up; her blood pressure was a bit high, but she’d been rushing around all day. And then today she started feeling really rough, had a headache she couldn’t shift and swollen ankles. Her community midwife sent her in to us, and her blood pressure had spiked and there was protein in her urine. Daniel wasn’t happy with the baby’s heartbeat and so he brought her straight up here.’

Daniel, Stephanie presumed, was the surgeon. She knew that the only cure for pre-eclampsia was to deliver the baby. ‘How many weeks is she?’ she asked.

‘Thirty-six.’

So there was a good chance that the baby’s lungs had matured enough, though the baby might still need little bit of help breathing and some oxygen treatment after the birth.

‘Is there anything else I need to know?’ she asked.

‘That’s the only complication,’ the midwife said.

Though, as complications went, that one was more than enough; Stephanie was aware of all the potential problems for the baby, from low blood sugar through to patent ductus arteriosis, a problem where the blood vessel that allowed the blood to go through a baby’s lungs before birth didn’t close properly and caused abnormal blood flow in the heart. She’d just have to hope that the baby didn’t have a really rough ride.

Once the baby was delivered and the cord was cut, Stephanie quickly checked him over. His heart rate and breathing were both a little on the low side, and his hands and feet were slightly bluish, but to her relief his muscle tone was good and he grimaced and cried. And he was a good weight, too; that would help him cope better.

She wrapped him in a clean cloth and brought him over to his mother.

‘I think you deserve a cuddle after all that hard work,’ she said. ‘He’s a beautiful boy. Now, I do want to take him up to the special care unit for a little while, because he needs a little bit of help breathing—but that’s because he’s a bit early and it’s really common, so please don’t start worrying that anything’s desperately wrong. You’ll be able to see him in the unit any time you like, and I’ll be around if you have any questions.’

‘Thank you,’ the mum whispered.

By the time Stephanie had sorted out the baby’s admission to the special care unit, the surgeon had finished sewing up the mum and she’d been wheeled off to the recovery room.

The surgeon came over to her, removing his mask. ‘Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Daniel—’

‘Mr Connor,’ she said as she looked up And recognised him.

He was the last person she’d expected to be here. And to think she’d been so careful to explain his daughter’s condition. What an idiot she’d made of herself. As a doctor, of course he would’ve known the biology—especially as he was clearly senior to her, being a surgeon.

She shook herself and switched into professional mode. ‘How’s your little girl?’

‘She’s fine, thanks.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I feel a bit ashamed of myself now for panicking as much as I did. And I’m sorry. I really should’ve told you I was a doctor.’

So he felt as awkward as she did? Maybe this was salvageable, then. Which was good, because the chances were that they’d have to work together in the future. She wanted to keep all her work relationships as smooth as possible. ‘It’s not a problem. I think any parent panics when their child can’t breathe properly, and it’s probably worse when you’re a doctor because you know all the potential complications—it’s scary stuff.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘But I am sorry for drawing you that diagram. It was pretty much teaching you to suck eggs.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t apologise. It was a great analogy, and I needed to hear it right then. Actually, I’m glad you’re on the paediatrics team. I wondered at the time if you were a locum.’

‘No, I was rostered on the paediatric assessment unit. Rhys Morgan had it moved to the emergency department at about the same time that I joined the team.’ She looked at him, surprised. ‘Why are you pleased I’m in paediatrics?’

‘Because, if you were a locum, I was going to ask Theo Petrakis—my boss—to put you on the list for Neonatal. You’re good with panicky parents,’ he said simply, ‘and I can say that from first-hand experience.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Perhaps I can buy you a coffee later today?’ he said.

Coffee? Was he asking her as colleague, or as a grateful parent, or as a potential date? Stephanie couldn’t quite read the signals and it filled her with panic. Especially as she didn’t know what his situation was. No way did she want to get in the slightest bit involved with a colleague who wasn’t free.

Actually, she didn’t want to get involved, full stop. Once bitten, definitely twice shy. It was safest to keep people pigeonholed as patients or colleagues, the way she’d done ever since her divorce. ‘There’s no need, really. I was just doing my job.’ Flustered, she added, ‘I’d better get back to my department.’

‘Sure. Nice to see you again, Stephanie,’ he said.

‘You, too,’ she said, and fled before she made even more of an idiot of herself.