A Special Kind of Family. Marion Lennox
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be dead anyway,’ he said flatly. He was speaking almost to himself. ‘Fiona…my vet friend…tells me if it’s been wedged for hours there’s no chance it’s still alive. She tells me I have a choice. I put Marilyn down now, or I try and get the dead pup out of the birth canal so whatever’s behind can come out of its own accord. If it doesn’t work then I’ll have to put her down, but I intend to try. So if you could shut up…’
‘I’m shutting up,’ she said, and pushed herself forward a bit more. ‘But you have an assistant. I may not be sterile but I’ll do whatever I can to help.’
It was a nasty procedure with an initial nasty outcome. Dom inserted the lubricant with difficulty. He injected oxytocin. He used forceps with even more difficulty. He fitted the forceps just as a contraction hit. He tugged. The thing shifted and suddenly it was there. Just as Fiona had foreseen.
He glanced back at Erin, who was lying full length on the floor, keeping a light touch on Marilyn’s carotid artery, feeling her pulse, and stroking her ears. ‘One pup,’ he told her softly. ‘Dead.’
Amazingly, Marilyn struggled, raising her head as if to see. She moaned, a low doggy moan that sounded almost like despair.
‘Hush,’ Erin said softly, fondling the big dog’s ears as Dom removed the dead puppy. ‘I know, it’s your baby and I’m so sorry, but you did the best you could. Relax, girl. We’ll take care of it.’
Her bedside manner was great, Dom thought, though it was slightly more personal than the approach he’d learned in medical school. She was lying nose to nose with her patient.
‘And you moaned,’ Erin whispered. ‘That’s the first sound you’ve made since I found you. That has to be good.’ She glanced up at Dom again. ‘What’s happening?
‘I’d imagine this pup died in utero some time ago,’ Dom said grimly, wrapping the tiny body in a towel and placing it gently to one side. ‘It’s not completely formed and it’s stiff. That’s why it’s blocked the birth passage.’
‘If they’re all like that…’
‘The oxytocin’s only so good at getting the contractions going again,’ he muttered. ‘We need a bit of luck…’
He stopped.
The pressure behind the dead pup must have been overwhelming. The contraction Marilyn was having now was almost nonexistent, but it was enough. A wobbly, limp body was propelled outward in a rush. Dom caught it as it came—and the tiny bundle moved in his hand.
Again, Marilyn tried to turn. ‘It’s okay, girl,’ Erin whispered. ‘Leave your babies to Dr Dom. He’s doing it all for you. We’re both in his hands.’
What was in Dom’s hands was a live pup. Dom peeled membrane away from one tiny nose. He held the tiny creature upside down and gave it a faint jiggle.
It gave a sound that could almost have been…a bark?
‘Dear God,’ Erin said, and burst into tears.
‘You cry, you’re out of my theatre, Dr Carmody,’ Dom said, but he was grinning. ‘Some surgical assistant you are.’ He headed down the hall with the pup in his hands. ‘Don’t let her have another contraction till I come back.’
He needed warm towels. Hell, he’d never anticipated a live birth. Luckily he had heated towel rails in the bathroom. He grabbed the family towels, wrapped the pup in one and tucked another two towels under his arm.
By the time he got back to the hall Erin had his doctor’s bag tipped out on the floor. ‘Dental floss,’ she murmured in approval as she searched. ‘You’re a man after my own heart. What sort of doctor doesn’t carry dental floss?’
He grinned, then laid the pup on a towel on the floor right near Marilyn’s head.
‘Do we need to clamp and tie the umbilical cord?’ Erin asked doubtfully.
‘You’re asking me as a dog expert? Let’s do it anyway.’ Then, as another contraction rippled through, he left the pup to Erin and went back to delivery mode.
And two pups later it was over. At least he guessed it was over. There was no heartbeat that he could hear inside—there were no signs that there were any more to come. The third live pup slid into the world and Marilyn’s body seemed to sag in relief.
‘Don’t you dare die now,’ Erin said to her, almost fiercely. ‘Dr Dom’s getting fluids into you. He’s doing everything he can. You have three puppies totally dependent on you. You can’t die.’
Not completely dependent, Dom thought ruefully as he watched Erin. Marilyn was lying back, exhausted to the point of death, but as Erin presented each of her pups to her she nosed them with the beginning of maternal interest. As Erin set them at their mother’s teats, they knew what to do.
Erin was doing everything she could to give these puppies a start in life, and Marilyn was trying herself. The big dog was breathing deeply, evenly, as if she guessed that she had to concentrate on gathering her strength.
‘She’s a dog in a million,’ Erin said fiercely, echoing his thoughts. ‘How can they have just thrown her out?’
‘It beggars belief,’ Dom said sadly. ‘But that’s life. We just pick up the pieces.’
‘You sound like you do it all the time.’
‘I’m a family doctor.’
‘Yeah, family.’ She gazed up at him, seeming suddenly to realise that she was semi-naked, lying full length in the hall of…a family doctor. A doctor with a family. ‘Um…how come we haven’t woken your wife and kids?’
Maybe now wasn’t the time to let her know exactly what his family consisted of, Dom thought. He needed her settled tonight, and if the thought of a wife and kids upstairs would do it, then that’s what she’d get. ‘I’m a family doctor,’ he repeated, with tired humour. ‘In this family we learn to sleep with bombs going off—or sometimes that’s what it feels like. I nap between explosions. Now…’ He looked down at Marilyn, who was almost visibly relaxing. Her eyes were three-quarters closed. The puppies were a living, breathing pile of life, nuzzling her teats. The fire in the living room was sending its warmth out here. Marilyn was safe, and she was delivered.
‘You know what? I’m going to leave her right here,’ Dom said. ‘I’ll put a heater out here to make it even warmer, but she looks like she’ll sleep for hours and I don’t want that IV line to move. In the morning I’ll do something about cleaning up her side but it looks like superficial scratches. Fiona told me what antibiotic to give. I’ll clean the mess up later.’ He rose. ‘Which means…’ He looked down at Erin, who was smiling goofily at the pups. ‘You,’ he said. ‘Feet. I’m not leaving them till morning.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘That’s right,’ he agreed. ‘You’re nicely doped on morphine and you could walk another three miles or so. Or not. Dr Carmody, you know very well that your foot has to be attended to, and it has to be attended to now.’
There was nothing to say. Even if there was a decent rebuttal she was too tired and too drugged to think of one.
‘Yes, Doctor,’ she said meekly, and held out her hands so he could help her to her feet.
He didn’t.
‘You’ve walked far enough tonight,’ he growled. ‘’You need to come through to my surgery at the back of the house.’ And before she could guess what he intended—or protest—he picked her up again and was carrying her through the house to his clinic beyond.
What followed was nasty. Dom gave her as much analgesic as he could, but short of a general anaesthetic—‘and I’m not doing that on my own’—he couldn’t stop all the pain.
There was gravel, deeply embedded. She’d felt pain as she’d walked but there hadn’t been