Surgeon On Call. Alison Roberts
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son who was about ten years old but the boy was staring, wide-eyed, at the screens of the monitoring equipment. The younger child, a girl, was clutching her mother’s hand, staring at her father and crying quietly.
‘It’s OK, chicken,’ Geoffrey said gently. ‘Dad’s going to be just fine.’ He held out the arm that wasn’t encumbered by IV tubing and the girl ducked behind a nurse and rushed into the inviting circle, burying her face against her father’s chest. Mrs Pinnington also moved closer and laid her hand on Geoffrey’s leg. Felicity watched as the family drew themselves into a unit again, preparing to cope with whatever was coming next. She answered the querying look Geoffrey’s wife was directing towards her.
‘It looks as though Geoffrey may be having a heart attack,’ Felicity explained. ‘There’s a cardiologist on the way to see him now and they’ll decide what the best course of treatment will be. You’ve done exactly the right thing in getting Geoffrey to the doctor and into hospital as quickly as possible. That means the treatment has much more chance of being successful and that any damage that is occurring can be minimised.’
The cardiology registrar arrived while Felicity was talking. She took over the management of the patient but Felicity stayed in the resus area, listening and watching, for a few minutes. The registrar assimilated the available information quickly. She explained the mechanics of the life-threatening condition Geoffrey was experiencing and outlined the treatment options. Felicity watched as he listened carefully. His daughter was still tucked within his arm and he was stroking her hair. Blonde, straight hair. Not at all like Samantha Petersen’s.
Given the choice between drug therapy and the more invasive but faster and probably more effective procedure of angioplasty, the Pinningtons had no difficulty making a choice, and the staff prepared to move Geoffrey upstairs to the catheter laboratory. It was time for Felicity to move as well. With no urgent cases awaiting her attention, she collected a cup of cold water and stood observing the department for a minute from her position beside the water dispenser. She wasn’t really registering the activity in the department, however. She was still thinking about Geoffrey and his daughter. Or, more specifically, the interaction between them and the contrast it had presented to the way Joe and Samantha had appeared. That easy affection and physical closeness had been non-existent.
Sometimes the frightening environment of an emergency department made people act differently to what they might have done normally, but Joe was a surgeon. He should have been as much at home here as anywhere, and more capable of reassuring his daughter than most people. On reflection, it was hard to believe that the pair were father and daughter. The atmosphere of awkwardness was more like that of a relative or care-giver being thrown into dealing with an unfortunate and unexpected incident. A care-giver who only had limited contact with children, perhaps.
Felicity crumpled the polystyrene cup and threw it away. Maybe Joe was just a father who couldn’t be bothered and left the upbringing of his children entirely to his wife. Or maybe he had been missing an important appointment because of the accident. What did it matter anyway? It was really none of her business. Instinct had already told her that the unusual atmosphere was highly unlikely to be due to some dysfunctional or abusive relationship that needed further investigation so Felicity was slightly annoyed at her continuing level of interest.
No distractions were immediately available in the department.
‘I’ll be in my office,’ she told Mike. ‘I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. Beep me if you need me.’
The left turn at the doors into the main part of the hospital took Felicity past the store cupboards, the sluice room and the relatives’ room on her right. The bed coming from the observation ward on the other side of the corridor slowed her decisive walk for only a few moments, but it was long enough to recognise the voices coming from the area set aside for relatives. One of the voices, at least.
* * *
‘For God’s sake, Joe. I just can’t understand how it could have happened!’
Joe had had almost enough. The day had already been a disaster and Dayna was just making things worse.
‘I told you, Dayna. It was an accident. She missed her footing when she jumped off the swing. She fell over. Accidents happen.’
‘I would have thought you could manage a simple trip to the park without some sort of disaster.’ Dayna’s tone was scathing. ‘This is just typical of you, Joe. How bad is it?’
Joe sighed. It was typical. Dayna expected any time he spent with Samantha to cause problems and no matter how hard he tried her expectation always seemed to be justified. Usually it was something minor like stained clothing from a spilled drink or a damaged toy—things that Dayna could have ignored easily enough if she chose to. He had to concede that a broken arm wasn’t something to dismiss lightly.
‘It’s a greenstick fracture.’
‘What on earth is that?’
‘It’s where the bone doesn’t break completely. One side breaks and the other side gets bent. It happens commonly with children.’ Joe frowned. ‘For heaven’s sake, Dayna. It’s exactly what Scott did to his arm a couple of years ago.’
‘He’s a boy.’ Dayna clearly dismissed the reference to her older son’s injury as unimportant. ‘Where is Samantha, Joe? I hope you haven’t left her sitting somewhere by herself.’
‘Of course I haven’t. She has a nurse with her.’
‘Well, I want to see her. Now.’
‘Of course.’ Joe stood back to let his sister-in-law exit the small room first. He followed, edging past the bed being manoeuvred awkwardly in the corridor outside. Another sigh escaped him. Just how much of Dayna’s rather heated conversation had been overheard by Dr Felicity Munroe? And why was she standing there at this particular moment anyway?
Joe led Dayna towards the emergency department. He was still appalled at having discovered Felicity’s qualifications and position. The fleeting memories of things he had said to her on the building site had made him cringe inwardly. Fancy suggesting that a consultant in emergency medicine might not know what she was doing and cause further damage. Or suggesting that if she wanted to be useful she could hold the head still. Of course, she could have told him she was a doctor but Joe had a sneaking suspicion that she had been right in saying she hadn’t been given much of an opportunity. The scene had reminded him too strongly of Catherine’s accident and the ghastly aftermath of a mismanaged spinal injury. He hadn’t been about to allow anyone to interfere with what he knew to be expert leadership.
Joe pulled back the curtain to cubicle 3. If only he hadn’t compounded the error by assuming that Felicity Munroe was a nurse when she’d arrived to look after Samantha. If he hadn’t been so worried about his daughter he might have noticed that she hadn’t been wearing a uniform. He might have taken the trouble to read the identity badge pinned to the waistband of her skirt.
‘Hello, Mum.’ Samantha was smiling. ‘Look at my arm plaster. It’s pink!’
‘Very pretty.’ The nurse beside the bed stepped back as Dayna leaned over to kiss Samantha. ‘Does it hurt a lot, darling?’
‘Not any more. I had some medicine. I’m hungry now.’
Joe smiled at Samantha. She was looking a lot happier. All that he needed now was some more time with her and he could probably wipe out the unpleasant aspects of their outing. ‘Maybe we could go out for a hamburger.’
‘No,’ Dayna said firmly. ‘It’s time to go home.’
Samantha looked disappointed enough to prompt Joe to try again. ‘I could drop Sam home a bit later.’
‘I’ve come into the hospital now, Joe. I’ve left the boys with Nigel and he’s busy at work. We’ve got grocery shopping to do and Scott’s due at his piano lesson at 4:30. I haven’t got time to chop and change arrangements. I’ll take Samantha home with me now.’
Joe gave in. It wasn’t worth the