Doctor at Risk. Alison Roberts
Читать онлайн книгу.
of that loss.
The timing was just so incredibly bad. If they’d already been together for years, maybe they could have faced and overcome this obstacle together. The emotional bank account of shared and equal support would have been healthy. The memories of countless nights of passion would be enough to draw on in the lean times. But it had been only weeks, not years, and their love was a fledgling that needed nurturing and time to test its wings and gather strength. It couldn’t survive the kind of stress the aftermath of this accident would present, and it would destroy Ross to watch it wither and die slowly.
The pain of that emotional destruction would remove any chance Ross had to fight and win the battle he was now facing. The temptation to draw on the strength Wendy was offering so willingly was overpowering, but the sheer force of that temptation was enough to sound an alarm he couldn’t ignore. He had wanted support like that in the past—had trusted that it would remain on offer, and he knew just how crushing it was to have it rescinded. Even if the support was unwavering, the thought that he could become a kind of emotional leech that drained even a part of the optimism and sheer joy of living from a spirit as vital as Wendy’s was simply unacceptable.
Perhaps—in a few months, or a year, or however long it took to recover—they could try again, but Ross wasn’t going to ask Wendy to wait for him. He had no right to do that when he was faced with the possibility that he might never recover. No. He had to set her completely free. He had to do it for himself as much as for her. Wendy might not understand or agree but she would thank him in the long run. And maybe...just maybe they could remain friends and Ross could keep just a little of what he’d found without feeling like a thief.
Telling her it was over would be the hardest thing he had ever faced in his life, and that was saying something. But he had to do it. And soon. Tomorrow, even, if they had any time alone together.
Yes. He would tell her tomorrow and get it over with. And then he would start coping alone.
Just as he always had.
CHAPTER TWO
‘IT’S not over.’
‘I never said it was.’
The surprised tone from her patient made Wendy blink in momentary confusion. She paused in her automatic task of cleaning around the pin piercing the skin of her patient’s forehead and anchored in the bone of his skull. The realisation that her thought had been spoken aloud was disconcerting. Wendy had been quite confident that her professionalism as a senior nurse would not be compromised by any personal problems, no matter how intensely upsetting they had the potential to be.
‘What’s not over, anyway? You’ve been fiddling with those screw things for ages.’
‘Sorry.’ Wendy dropped the cotton bud into a kidney dish. ‘I’m done now. How’s your head feeling?’
‘OK.’ Martin Gallagher’s eyes swivelled until he caught Wendy’s questioning gaze. ‘Surprisingly good, considering I must look like Frankenstein with bolts sticking out of my temples.’
‘You don’t look anything like Frankenstein.’ Wendy smiled, relieved that the subject of her audible mutter was not being pursued. The insurance of a further distraction might still be prudent, however. ‘Would you like to see? I can find a mirror.’
‘Sure. I’d better check what I look like before Gemma comes in again. Maybe she spent last night crying so much because I’m not as good-looking as I was.’
‘Be back in a tick, then.’
Wendy moved swiftly towards the storeroom to find the hand mirror. She wished she could distract herself so easily from the subject of that verbalised thought.
It wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. Not something that strong. That...right. Wendy had never believed in love at first sight but, then, she’d never seen Ross Turnball, had she? The moment their eyes had met had been unforgettable. A defining moment that she might have expected to be wildly exciting—emotional shooting stars would have done the trick—but it hadn’t been like that at all. The feeling Wendy had been aware of had been far more peaceful. Almost one of relief. She’d known she had found something she had always been searching for but had never found because she had never been able to define it adequately. The only experience Wendy could relate it to had been the moment on that Pacific cruise she had taken years ago when the tantalising outline of land had appeared on the horizon of an empty sea. It had been there, waiting to be discovered. Explored...and claimed as part of her own life.
The excitement had come a little later but had made up for the time lag by being a revelation of unimagined heights, and the knowledge of the ‘rightness’ had escalated because Ross felt exactly the same way. He hadn’t meant what he’d said last night. Of course it wasn’t over. Ross probably realised that himself by now and he might well be regretting those words. A break in her eight-hour shift in the intensive care unit would be due before too long and Wendy planned to use the time to go and see Ross in the ward. Telling him about Martin might remind him of just how serious a spinal injury could be and might serve as subtle encouragement for Ross to be thankful for how well he was doing—and how possible a full recovery still was. And how detrimental it could be to even threaten to cast aside their relationship.
Right now, however, she had to concentrate on her job. The mirror was not in its usual place on the bottom shelf. Wendy glanced up as another staff member entered the small room.
‘Have you seen the hand mirror anywhere, Pete? Martin wants to see what the tongs look like.’
Peter shook his head. ‘No. Sorry.’ He deposited a carton of IV cannulae on a stainless-steel bench. ‘I’ll keep an eye out for it, though. I’ve got to do a tidy and restock while my patient’s in Theatre.’
‘Martin might be going in after your patient. They’re going to check whether the fracture has been reduced by traction soon. It should be—he was up to nearly twenty-five kilograms at one stage.’
‘He’s a C6-7 dislocation fracture, isn’t he?’
Wendy nodded as her gaze wandered over the next shelf of supplies. ‘He dived into the shallow end of a pool to retrieve some toy his daughter dropped. He got transferred by helicopter last night with incomplete tetraplegia. He was stabilised with Gardner Wells tongs but there’s been signs of neurological deterioration since then so they’ve had to reduce the traction weight.’
‘Surgery’s likely, then. How’s he coping?’
‘Too well right now. I think he’s in denial.’ Or maybe he was just euphoric that he was still alive. As Ross had been for a brief period after his accident, until the spinal cord oedema had made his condition worse and he’d become too sick to think about anything much. By the time he had been well enough to be aware of where he was again, Ross had also been only too aware of reality. Being a doctor had been an added disadvantage, allowing him to consider the bleakest prognosis, the rarest of potential complications, and to envisage the worst-case scenarios available. Wendy gave herself a mental shake. She was supposed to be thinking about her patient.
‘His wife’s a mess. She was totally grief-stricken when she arrived last night. Apparently Paddy spent ages calming her down before he took her in to visit Martin. Ah...’ The handle of the mirror could be seen poking out from beneath some dressing packages on a higher shelf. Wendy stood on tiptoe but still couldn’t quite reach it.
‘Allow me.’ Peter was grinning. ‘It’s tough being a midget, isn’t it?’
‘I’m almost five foot one,’ Wendy informed him haughtily. ‘And I’m probably a lot fitter than you are, mate.’
‘I certainly wouldn’t try and compete with you on any athletic field.’ Peter handed her the mirror. ‘Any marathons lined up for the near future?’
‘No.’ Wendy tried not to sound despondent. ‘Ross and I were working on a training programme just before the accident to get us on track to do