The Italian's Touch. Carol Marinelli
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dash, Fleur found herself at handover bang on seven-thirty, feeling rather self conscious in her new uniform, her thick blonde waves tied securely at the nape of her neck. But apart from a couple of anxious stares cast in her direction, on the whole she felt pretty much welcome.
Monday morning in Accident and Emergency, it seemed, hadn’t changed one iota. The waiting room was starting to fill and a few patients lay on trolleys in the cubicles, waiting for the ward rounds to be completed, which would hopefully clear the way for them to move from the department into a bed.
‘In the observation ward, we currently have two patients.’ Moira, the night charge nurse, suppressed a tired yawn. ‘Kane Dwyer, eighteen years old, put his hand through a window late last night. He’s sobering up and starting to feel very sorry for himself. Currently nil by mouth and first on the theatre list for a tendon repair. Strictly speaking, he’s under the orthopaedics, but the beds were full and Mr Richardson gave the OK for him to be held here until he goes to Theatre.’
Fleur listened intently, jotting down the information on a small pad.
‘The other patient is Hilda Green, sixty-five, fell at home with query loss of consciousness. No fracture on the X-ray but Mr Ruffini wasn’t happy and wanted her to stay overnight. She’s for a CT scan this morning.’
Though she was paying attention to all that was being said, Fleur couldn’t help but glance over to the empty resus area. The resus area where Rory had been worked on, where she’d kissed him for the last time while he’d still been warm…
‘Fleur, perhaps you could take the obs ward this morning. A quiet morning might be the best way to go.’ Danny’s voice snapped her back to attention.
‘Sure,’ Fleur replied, relieved at the apparent reprieve from the beastly resus room. ‘Is the hand clinic still held there at ten-thirty?’
‘Yep, and judging by our theatre book it’s going to be a big one. Half of Melbourne must have been stitched up this weekend. I’ll send Lucy, the student, in to help you with the clinic. If you need anything in the meantime, don’t hesitate to buzz on the intercom.’
Fleur managed a confident grin. ‘I’m sure even I can cope with two patients, but thanks.’
‘I can smell perfume,’ Delorus the night nurse cheerfully declared. ‘Which must mean I can go home.’ Her ear-to-ear grin stretched even wider when she realised it was Fleur taking over from her. ‘Honey, it is so good to see you,’ she said, grabbing Fleur in a tight embrace. ‘You, my darling, are just what this place needs to brighten it up. Things aren’t the same here, you’ll soon see.’
‘Rubbish.’ Fleur laughed. ‘You just need a holiday.’
‘And you need some good food inside you—you’re miles too thin. Do you forget to lay a place for yourself when you feed that gorgeous son of yours? I’ll have to bring in some of my fried rice and chicken and put some meat on them bones.’
‘Delorus, I seem to remember that you thought I was too thin when I was eight months pregnant! But, yes, please, to the rice and chicken—there’s always a space in my fridge for your delectable cooking.’ Looking around the small ward, Fleur’s voice took on a more serious tone. ‘How are they?’
‘Nothing to report. Moira gave you the handover, I presume? Kane’s due for his IV antibiotics at eight—I’ll check them with you before I go—and Hilda’s neuro obs have all been stable overnight. She’s knitting away in her bed and can’t wait to get home, like me. Speaking of delectable, Mario is on this morning, and he wants to review Hilda himself after her CT. Now, there’s a real man for you, darling, you’re in for a treat. I’ve got a hot date lined up with him soon. He wanted someone to join him while he sampled the delicacies Chinatown has to offer and, honey, I can’t wait.’
‘Not you as well?’ Fleur groaned. ‘I’d say you’ve got a bit of competition there, Delorus.’
Despite the fact Delorus was easily the wrong side of sixty, she pursed her well-painted lips. ‘Honey,’ she said in a low voice, ‘Mario Ruffini is a hot-blooded Italian. They like a woman with good hips, it’s in their genes, and I’m sure ahead of the crowd in that department.’ Sashaying towards the drug cupboard, she turned and gave Fleur a wicked grin. ‘Girl, that HRT was the best thing that ever happened to me.’
They were laughing so hard it took ten minutes to check the drugs when it should have taken two. ‘Sweet dreams, Delorus.’ ‘I sure hope not.’ Laughing huskily, Delorus made her way out of the ward.
Happy that the drugs were all checked, Fleur decided to introduce herself to the patients before checking over the paperwork
‘Good morning, Mrs Green, I’m Sister Fleur Hadley. How are you feeling this morning?’ Fleur smiled warmly as she pulled the curtains around her to give Hilda some privacy. The observation ward tended to be used as a walkway to the kitchen and staffroom during the day, something that had always irritated Fleur.
‘Just a bit of a headache, Sister.’
The shiny purple egg on her forehead left Fleur in no doubt that Hilda was an expert in understatement.
‘Still,’ the patient continued cheerfully, ‘it’s not bad enough to stop me knitting.’
‘What are you making?’ Fleur enquired, looking at the small pile of brightly coloured circles on Hilda’s bedside table.
‘Beanies. I make little hats for the premature babies. It keeps me out of mischief.’
‘Well, good on you. I’m just going to do a set of obs and then your breakfast should be here from the kitchen. After your shower you’ll be going down for your head CT. Has it all been explained to you?’
‘Yes, Mr Ruffini went through everything. He was very kind.’
Fleur found herself waiting for the inevitable, ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’ But for once it didn’t come. Hilda’s obs were all satisfactory and, leaving her to her knitting, Fleur made her way over to Kane, who was obviously nervous but doing his best not to show it.
‘I’m just going to give you your antibiotics, Kane, and then I’ll run through the theatre checklist with you.’ Diligently Fleur checked Kane’s ID band against the prescription chart, and though she’d already checked the drugs with Delorus she took a moment to check them again and ask Kane about any allergies. Satisfied everything was in order, she slowly injected the solution into the patient’s intravenous bung in his good hand. ‘You know you’ll be on a different ward once the operation’s over?’
‘Yeah.’ Kane shrugged.
Running through the theatre checklist, Kane continued with his nonchalant demeanour, but when Fleur came to the bit where she asked about any prostheses she saw a glimmer of a smile.
‘No, no false teeth.’
‘Or a wig?’ Fleur asked, giving him a wink. ‘And you’re not wearing any nail varnish, are you?’
He really grinned this time. ‘Not the last time I looked, though I had that much to drink last night you’d probably better check. Who knows what the lads got up to?’
Fleur flicked back the blankets. ‘No, you’re all right.’ She looked up. ‘I bet you’re not feeling the best, apart from your hand, I mean?’
‘I just feel an idiot.’ Kane blushed. ‘My mum’s going to kill me when I get home, she said as much. I don’t usually drink, well, not that much anyway. I guess I’ve learnt my lesson.’
Fleur gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Pretty painful lesson, huh? I’m sure your mum was just upset, but once she’s calmed down things will be better. Now, if you need anything, just call. The porters will be here to take you to Theatre soon.’
Very soon, as it turned out. Fleur had just got some paracetamol for Hilda’s headache and set up her breakfast tray when the porters arrived with the trolley to take Kane for his operation.