Hot Single Docs: The Playboy's Redemption: St Piran's: Rescuing Pregnant Cinderella / St Piran's: Italian Surgeon, Forbidden Bride / St Piran's: Daredevil, Doctor...Dad!. Carol Marinelli
Читать онлайн книгу.
the phone. ‘I’ll ask Izzy.’
‘Ask Izzy what?’
She’d been back a full week now.
It was late.
She was tired.
And the patient she was dealing with wasn’t exactly helping Izzy’s mood.
‘I’ve got a patient on NICU,’ Megan explained. ‘A new admission. His mum’s bipolar and Diego wants some sedation for her. The baby was an emergency transfer so there’s no local GP and her medications are all at home. She’s getting really agitated, and really it sounds as if she just needs a good night’s sleep and then her husband can bring in her meds in the morning. Diego wants her seen straight away, though. Is there any chance? I’d do it but I’ve got to go up to the ward.’
‘You’ll have to speak to Josh or one of the nurses,’ Izzy was unusually terse. ‘I’m about to suture someone and then I’m going home.’
She was aware of the rise of Megan’s eyebrow. Normally Izzy was accommodating, but Diego’s name seemed to be popping up in her day all too often—and her thoughts were turning to him too, rather more than Izzy was comfortable with.
Still it wasn’t just a sexy neonatal nurse that had caused Izzy’s terse reaction. Just as Jess had predicted, there would be patients that would touch a very raw nerve with Izzy, and even though she had assured Jess she would have no trouble dealing with them, Evelyn Harris had hit a nerve.
In her early forties she had presented having tripped over the cat and cut her head on the edge of the coffee table. Vivienne, the student nurse, had had a quiet word with Izzy before she had examined her, telling her that she had noticed some other bruises on her arms when she had checked her blood pressure and, sure enough when Izzy had checked the blood pressure again, she had seen the new fingertip bruises, but had chosen not to comment.
‘You’re going to need a few stitches!’ Izzy had said instead. ‘How’s the cat?’
The relief in the room at Izzy’s small joke had been palpable, Evelyn had laughed and John Harris had said the cat would be in the naughty corner, or some other light-hearted thing, and Izzy had smiled back.
Had let him think, as he no doubt did, that she was stupid.
‘Vivienne?’ Izzy called out to a student nurse. ‘Could you set up the minor theatre?’ She smiled at Mrs Harris. ‘I’ll take you over and I’ll be in with you in a moment.’
‘I’ll stay with you,’ Mr Harris reassured his wife, and then explained why to Dumb Doctor Izzy. ‘She doesn’t like needles.’
‘Sorry!’ Izzy breezed. ‘We can only have the patient.’ She gave a very nice smile. ‘We shan’t be long, at least I hope not. You’re my last patient for the night...’ She chatted away, not letting the husband get a word in, acted dizzy and vague and rushed, as if getting home was the only thing on her mind, telling them both to take a seat outside minor ops. Then she headed for the annexe, checked who the on-call social worker was for the night and was just considering her options when Megan had asked the favour. With her emotions already bubbling to the surface, the thought of seeing Diego was the last thing she needed.
There was something about him that got under her skin, though in a nice way, and Izzy, right now, just wasn’t comfortable with nice.
Wasn’t used to nice.
And was nowhere near ready for it either.
As Izzy came into the minor theatre, Vivienne was just bringing Evelyn through and Mr Harris’s voice came through the open door as his wife stepped inside.
‘I’m right outside, darling,’ he said, only Izzy could hear his clear warning.
‘Lie down here, Evelyn,’ Izzy said, then headed over to the small bench in the corner and turned on the radio. ‘Let’s have some music to distract you.’ She washed her hands and pulled on some gloves and then gently gave the wound a clean before injecting in some local anaesthetic. ‘I’m fine on my own, Vivienne,’ Izzy said. ‘It’s pretty busy out there.’
‘I’m to cut for you,’ came the response, but Izzy could cut her own stitches and wanted to be alone with Evelyn, except Vivienne wouldn’t budge. ‘Beth told me to get into Theatre as much as I could.’
‘Could you get me some 3-0 catgut?’ Izzy said, knowing they had run out but checking the wound as if that was the thread she needed. ‘There’s none here, but I think there should be some in the store cupboard.’
‘There isn’t any,’ Vivienne said. ‘I did the stock order with Beth this afternoon.’
Vivienne needed a crash course on taking a hint, but Izzy didn’t have time right now. Evelyn only needed a couple of stitches and Mr Harris would no doubt start to get impatient soon, so Izzy dragged the stool over with her foot and given the time constraints realised she would have to be more direct than she would normally choose.
‘Evelyn,’ Izzy said, ‘is there anything you want to tell me?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I know,’ Izzy said gently. ‘I know that you didn’t just trip...’ She watched her patient’s nervous lick of her dry lips, her eyes anxiously dart to the theatre door. ‘He can’t hear,’ Izzy said. ‘That’s why I put the radio on. You can talk to me.’
‘Can you just do your job and suture me?’ Evelyn bristled. ‘I tripped! Okay?’
‘There’s a bruise on the opposite cheek, finger marks on your arms. I can sort out help...’
‘Really?’ The single word was so loaded with sarcasm, just so scornful and filled with dark energy that Izzy let out a breath before she spoke next.
‘I can ring the social worker. There are shelters...’
‘I’ve a seventeen-year-old son.’ Evelyn’s lip curled in bitter response. ‘The shelters won’t let me bring him with me. Did you know that?’ she challenged, and Izzy shook her head.
‘So what do you suggest, Doctor? That I leave him with him?’
‘No, of course not, but if I get someone to speak with you, they could go through your options. I can speak to the police. You don’t have to go back tonight.’
‘You’re not helping, Doctor,’ Evelyn said. ‘In fact, you could very well be making my life a whole lot worse.’
The stitches took no time, and Izzy knew that dragging it out and keeping
Evelyn’s husband waiting would only make things worse for her patient, but as Vivienne snipped the last thread Izzy had one more go.
‘Is there anyone you can talk to? A friend perhaps...’
‘You really don’t get it, do you?’
Except Izzy did.
‘I don’t have friends! At least, none of my choosing.’
Evelyn struck a dignified pose as she swung her legs down from the gurney and Izzy recognised the glare in her eyes only too well, because she had shot out that look many times before if anyone had dared so much as to assume that her life was less than perfect.
‘Do I need to sign anything?’ Evelyn asked.
‘No.’ Izzy shook her head. ‘If you...’ She looked at Evelyn and her voice trailed off. Evelyn’s decision to stay wasn’t going to change, not till her son’s future was taken care of. Izzy just hoped to God she’d survive that year. ‘When was your last tetanus?’
‘I had one...’ Evelyn swung her bag over her shoulder ‘...six weeks ago.’
I’ll bet she did, Izzy thought as she stood there, clearing the trolley. She could see her hands shaking as she disposed of the sharps and as Evelyn left Theatre, Izzy had to bite on her lip as the young nurse’s