Earthquake Baby. Amy Andrews
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had just witnessed. And this was a man who didn’t want children? He had been amazing with Andrew. OK, he was a psychiatrist, he knew the right techniques, but it had been more than that.
He had connected with Andrew, had got down to his level. She thought about how he would be with Isaac. Something told her he would be a fantastic father. Unfortunately he seemed so opposed to the idea, even worse than ten years ago, he couldn’t see what was blindingly obvious. He was a natural with kids.
Fortunately the business of the day didn’t give her any time to dwell over the conundrum. There were three discharges to organise and for the first time in weeks there was no one to take their places. The tide appeared to have ebbed.
After lunch it was Laura’s pleasure to say goodbye to one of their long-term patients, Bill, who after fifty-two days was finally well enough to go to a general ward. He had been in a car accident, sustaining major chest trauma that had developed into severe respiratory collapse. But he’d hung in there and today he was being awarded his get-out-of-jail-free card.
Bill had a tear in his eye as he squeezed Laura’s hand.
‘Sister, thank you so much. Thank you. You saved my life, you all did. I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to thank you enough.’
‘It was a pleasure, Bill.’ Laura smiled. ‘Our pleasure. Seeing you well again is all the thanks we need.’
As Laura waved him off she reflected on the truth of her words. It was as she had told Jack yesterday. This was why she did the job, for moments just like these. This was what made her job so special.
Despite the busy workload, Laura was constantly aware of Jack’s presence. He was spending a considerable amount of time at Simon’s bedside, talking to his patient and spending time with Andrew. This was significant given that, as head of the department, he would have a killer schedule. She guessed that now he had built a rapport with the boy he would be reluctant to blow the tenuous relationship by passing the case off to another member of his team.
Jack approached her as she was at Jason Smith’s bedside. His nurse had called her over to discuss his deteriorating condition. Jason had been involved in a teenage pub brawl, sustaining several blows to the head. He had a moderate closed head injury that hadn’t required surgical intervention, but he hadn’t regained consciousness yet. His heart rate was slowing and his blood pressure was rising.
‘Laura, can I talk to you about Simon?’
‘Not right now, Jack,’ she said distractedly. ‘I just need to—’
Her words were cut short by Jason’s monitor suddenly blaring loudly. She looked over and saw the young man’s arms and legs jerking rhythmically. He was fitting.
‘Give him a bolus of sedation,’ she instructed the bedside nurse. ‘Jack, help me get him on his side.’
Jack assisted as the nurse held her finger on the purge button of the syringe driver that delivered a standard mix of sedative drugs.
‘How much?’ she asked.
‘Until he stops,’ Laura said.
‘He needs some mannitol to reduce the swelling in his brain and we should load him with an anti-epileptic, too,’ said Jack, reaching for the suction tubing and inserting the plastic head into Jason’s mouth to clear the secretions from his oropharynx. ‘Phenytoin,’ he ordered.
Laura stared at Jack over the top of their patient’s head. He had taken the words right out of her mouth. She felt admiration for him mix with her satisfaction that they were working together as a team.
Jason’s movements slowly subsided. Laura handed Jack an airway and watched as he deftly inserted the curved hollow device into Jason’s mouth to prevent his tongue from falling back and occluding his airway.
‘He needs a CAT scan,’ he said, and her admiration grew a little more.
A flurry of activity ensued, the bedspace becoming quite crowded, so Jack excused himself to write in Simon’s notes. He watched Laura surreptitiously in the middle of the action, discussing the developments concerning Jason with the rest of the medical team. She was so in control, so focussed. He hoped there wouldn’t come a time when an emergency triggered a different response. How would she ever cope with feeling out of her depth?
Laura worked with Steve quickly to get Jason prepared for another CAT scan. The team felt he had probably extended his head injury by having a further bleed, causing an increase in his intracranial pressure. The scan would confirm this.
Everything attached to Jason had to be switched to a portable alternative. Portable oxygen, portable monitor, portable pumps. The process took fifteen minutes. Steve accompanied the bedside nurse to the radiology department, along with the registrar and two wardsmen. Scanning an intensely monitored person was involved and required many hands.
Laura finally got a chance to grab a quick break so she took it gratefully. She sank into the tearoom chair, her mind abuzz with the things still to do.
‘Taking a breather?’ asked Jack, sitting beside her.
‘Jack. Thanks so much for earlier, with Jason. It was good having someone who knew what they were doing by my side.’
Jack smiled and felt the pleasure at her compliment warm his insides. ‘I like being at your side.’
Laura smiled back, their closeness of a decade ago returning. She took a deep breath and blinked. This was neither the time nor the place.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry. You wanted to see me earlier?’
‘Doesn’t matter. I sorted it, thanks.’ He quelled the disappointment he felt as she distanced herself. ‘You’ve had a busy day.’
‘No worse than most. Better than some.’ She smiled.
He smiled back and Laura felt her stomach flip-flop. Damn the man. It had been ten years and she could still remember how good he had felt inside her.
‘This is a normal work day?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Laura.’ He shook his head. ‘Do you know anything about post-traumatic stress disorder?’
The glow from distant memories faded as wariness took over. ‘Probably more than most.’
‘So you know that with the traumatic events of Newvalley, you are in the highest risk group.’
‘I think we’ve been through this already. I can handle it, Jack. I’ve been doing this for a long time. I’m OK.’
‘Just hear me out, Laura, that’s all I’m asking,’ he said, holding up his hands to emphasise the import of his words. ‘I do know what I’m talking about here. You trusted me with Jason, right? Please, trust me on this one.’
Laura shut her eyes and sighed. He was right. She owed it to him to at least listen to what he had to say. His professionalism with Jason and his invaluable help with the emergency compelled her to give his words some thought.
‘OK, I’ll listen.’
‘Thank you,’ he murmured, grateful for the chance to sway her to his way of thinking. But where to start? Now he had his opportunity he didn’t want to blow it.
‘See, the funny thing about PTSD is its ability to rear its ugly head when people least expect it. Sufferers can cruise along for years and then something will happen—doesn’t even have to be very big—and wham! They’re losing it. Big time.’
‘I know that, Jack. But it won’t happen to me.’
‘No.’ He nodded knowingly, ‘Of course, you’re OK. You’ve dealt with it.’
‘I have,’ she sighed, rubbing her eyes.
‘Well, if that was true, going to the memorial service wouldn’t be a problem for you. But it obviously is. I suspect that’s