Wedding in Darling Downs. Leah Martyn
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the moment, the newness of what he’d taken on was enough to keep him motivated. But what would happen when the grind of family practice began to wear thin? Where would his motivation be then?
In a dry little twist of quirky humour, Emma transposed the scenario into equine terms. Surely what Declan was proposing was like expecting a thoroughbred racer to feel fulfilled pulling a plough…
‘Something amusing you, Emma?’ Declan lifted a dark brow.
‘Not really,’ she said, going behind the counter and collecting the charts Rachel had left out.
‘OK, who’s the first cab off the rank?’ Declan asked, settling on one of the high stools next to her.
‘Russell Kernow, age seventy-five, lives alone,’ Emma said. ‘I saw him at the surgery a week ago. He was presenting with an incessant cough, raised temperature. I prescribed roxithromycin. His condition didn’t improve and I admitted him two days ago. He was seriously dehydrated, complained his chest felt tight. I’ve placed him on an inhaler twice daily and the cough seems to have diminished slightly. I’ve sent bloods off as well.’
‘So, you’re testing for what—serology, pertussis, mycoplasma?’
‘Plus legionella,’ Emma said.
Declan raised a dark brow. ‘Is that a possibility?’
‘A remote one, but Russell’s house is fully air-conditioned. He spends much of his time indoors. And we’ve since found out the filters on his air-con unit haven’t been changed for two years.’
‘Still…legionella is drawing a fairly long bow,’ Declan considered.
Emma bristled. If he was going to start telling her her job, they were going to fall out before the ink was dry on their partnership papers.
Their eyes met. He could see the spark of hostility in her gaze. Hell, he didn’t want to blow things with her before they even got off the ground. ‘Just thinking aloud,’ he said hastily. ‘It’s your call. When do you expect the results?’
‘Soonish,’ Emma said, faintly mollified. ‘I’ve requested the path lab to fax them to us here.’ She turned, stroking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Next patient is Sylvia Gartrell, age sixty-five. Recently had surgery—hysterectomy and bladder repair. Post-op seven days. The air ambulance delivered her to us yesterday.’
Declan ran his index finger between his brows. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘Her bladder function hasn’t yet returned to normal. She’s having to self-catheterise and she’s finding the procedure difficult to manage. Currently, the nurses are giving her some guidance. It seemed the safest option to have her here until she feels competent to go it alone. At the moment she’s convinced she’ll be stuck with this problem for ever so she needs emotional support as well.’
‘Why was she released from hospital in the first place?’
Emma sighed. ‘Same old story. They needed the bed.’
‘Oh, for crying out loud! We’ll need to keep a close eye on her, be mindful of the possibility of infection.’
‘We’re all aware of that, Declan.’
He sighed. ‘OK, then, who’s next on our patient list?’
‘Only one more. Ashleigh Maine, aged eleven. Poor little kid had a bad asthma attack yesterday. Scared the life out of her.’
‘So what’s her prognosis?’
‘She’s getting some relief from a nebuliser and of course she’s on a drip. Her home situation is not as good as it could be, though. Dad still smokes.’
Declan swore under his breath. ‘I realize tobacco is the drug some folk cling to when they’re under stress but surely, if his child is suffering, the man has to take stock of his actions?’
‘Normally, Ashleigh’s condition is fairly well managed but it only needs a change in routine and she’s struggling again.’
‘Are you aware of the study on asthmatics that’s been carried by the Jarvis Institute in Sydney?’ Declan asked pointedly.
Emma’s gaze was suddenly uncertain. ‘It’s a breathing technique, isn’t it? I think there’s a new physio in Toowoomba who’s a graduate from the Institute. We got some leaflets. I was going to investigate it further just before Dad…died. Do you want to take the child on to your list?’
‘Fine with me,’ he replied calmly. ‘I’ll chase up the physio and get the parents in for a round-table chat. I’ve a few ideas that might help as well.’
Emma defended her corner quietly. ‘I did try to put the parents in touch with the Asthma Foundation. They run camps and things that Ashleigh could attend with other youngsters with the same health problem. They declined.’
Declan’s response was swift. ‘Leave it with me, Emma. I’m new to the place. They’ll take notice, believe me.’
Emma opened her mouth and closed it. She hoped he wouldn’t jump all over the family. It wasn’t the way things worked in rural medicine. If the Maines took offence, that would be the end of the doctors getting access to Ashleigh. Oh, help. Which way should she jump? Forward, if she had any sense. ‘You will tread gently, won’t you, Declan?’
His jaw hardened. ‘I’ll do what I need to do, Emma.’
‘Not with my patients, you won’t,’ she flared. ‘Bendemere is a close-knit community. You can’t go around upsetting people.’
Hell, this was a minefield. She was guarding her territory, whereas he was used to giving orders and having them carried out immediately. OK, then. Back off, he told himself. ‘If we want this partnership to work, Emma, we have to trust each other’s medical skills. You haven’t had any complaints about my patient contact, have you?’
‘No…’ She lifted her hands in appeasement. ‘It’s just—we’re not used to working with each other yet.’
His mouth pulled tight. Was this what he was about to sign on for—bickering over someone who couldn’t grasp that his inability to quit smoking was stuffing up his child’s health? He lifted his gaze to glance meaningfully at her. ‘Just let’s try to keep it professional, then.’
Emma gritted her teeth. That was a low blow. She’d done everything she could under very difficult circumstances to keep their relationship professional. He’d been the one to overstep this morning when he’d touched her cheek! She tried to steady her thoughts. She’d have to swallow her angst with him if she didn’t want everything turned into ashes. New jobs had been promised and already there was an air of expectation about the town. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Rachel heading towards them, a tea tray in her hands. ‘I thought you might need this,’ she said. ‘And Betty’s made us some of her special ginger biscuits,’ she added brightly, sensing an air of tension between the two.
‘Lovely,’ Emma said faintly.
‘I’ll take a rain check, thanks, Rachel.’ Declan spun off his stool. ‘I’ll get on and make myself known to our patients.’
‘Then I’ll accompany you,’ Rachel said.
‘There’s no need.’ He gave an impatient twitch of his shoulder. ‘I’m sure I can manage.’
Rachel’s raised brows spoke volumes, before she swept up the patient charts. ‘My hospital, my call, Dr O’Malley. Besides, I need to strut my stuff occasionally,’ she said cheekily. ‘It’s ages since I walked the wards with a posh doc.’
Emma watched them walk away together, saw Declan turn his head, heard his rumble of laughter as he interacted with Rachel. She made a little sniff of disapproval. Shaking off a disquiet she didn’t understand, she took up one of Betty’s ginger biscuits and dunked it in her tea.
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