CHAPTER THREE

      HE HAD THE best job in the world, no doubt about it.

      Aiden was rolling slowly, the red and blue lights on his handlebars flashing as he eased through the crowds on Southbank. The wide, paved area on the south side of the Yarra River offered spectacular views of the river and city from cafés, restaurants and upmarket hotels.

      The gorgeous autumn afternoon had tourists and locals enjoying the exercise, food and entertainment. A juggler had attracted a good crowd and so had an old aboriginal man playing a didgeridoo. Aiden could hear the hollow, haunting notes of the music over the bike’s engine. He angled his path to avoid smudging the work of a street artist who was working with chalk and then he could see his destination. Another huddle of people, but they weren’t there for entertainment. He’d been called to a woman who’d collapsed on one of the riverside benches beneath the trees.

      ‘I’ve put her in the recovery position,’ a man told Aiden as soon as he’d propped the bike up on its stand. ‘I did a first-aid course last year.’

      ‘Good work.’ He flipped up the chinguard of his helmet. ‘Did anyone see what happened?’

      ‘She was walking around, looking weird,’ someone else offered. ‘Like she was drunk. And then she sat down and just toppled sideways.’

      Aiden had reached the unconscious woman. He stripped off his gloves, tilted her head to make sure her airway was open and then felt for a pulse in her neck. It was there. Rapid and faint enough to suggest low blood pressure. Her skin felt cool and clammy. He shook her shoulder.

      ‘Hello? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, love.’

      No response. Aiden looked up. ‘Does anyone know this woman? Was she with someone?’

      There was a general sound of denial and shaking of heads. Aiden checked for a MedicAlert bracelet or necklace as he ran through the possible causes of unconsciousness in his head. He couldn’t smell any alcohol and there was no sign of any head trauma. The woman was young, probably in her early thirties. This could be due to epilepsy or drugs or diabetes. At least he could eliminate one of the possible causes easily. Unrolling a kit, he took a small lancet, pricked the woman’s finger and eased the drop of blood onto a testing strip for a glucometer. He also reached for his radio to give Dispatch an update. Whatever was going on, here, this young woman would need transport to hospital.

      The glucometer beeped and it was a relief to see that the reading was low. Hypoglycaemia certainly fitted with the limited information he’d been given of her appearing drunk and then collapsing. It also fitted the physical signs of the clammy skin, rapid heart rate and a low blood pressure. Back-up was on the way but it would take time to get a stretcher through the crowds from the nearest point an ambulance could park and Aiden had everything he needed to start treatment.

      IV access was the first priority and there were plenty of willing hands to hold up the bag with the glucose infusion. He got the small cardiac monitor out of one of the panniers on the back of his bike as well. It had only been a few days ago that he’d read an interesting article suggesting that sudden death in young diabetics could be due to cardiac problems from electrolyte disturbances.

      The glucose infusion was working its magic well before he started attaching electrodes. The young woman opened her eyes, blinked a couple of times and then groaned.

      ‘Oh, no … it happened again, didn’t it?’

      ‘I’m Aiden, a paramedic. What’s your name, love?’

      ‘Hayley. I …’ She looked up at the crowd of onlookers. ‘Oh … God … this is so embarrassing.’

      ‘You’re diabetic?’

      ‘Yeah … I knew I needed to eat. That’s why I came along here. I was heading for the food court in Southgate. It came on so suddenly …’

      Aiden could see an ambulance crew manoeuvring a stretcher through the crowd. More people were stopping to stare, wondering what was going on. No wonder the poor girl was embarrassed. The sooner they got her into the privacy of the back of an ambulance, the better.

      Checking her blood-glucose levels again could wait until then as well. Aiden kick-started his bike and followed the crew, until he could park beside the ambulance. He needed to fill in his paperwork and he had a feeling that Hayley was not going to be keen to be taken to hospital.

      ‘I don’t need to go,’ she insisted a few minutes later. ‘I feel fine now.’

      ‘When was the last time you had a hypo?’

      ‘A couple of weeks ago,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But before that, it hadn’t happened for ages. Over a year.’

      ‘That means your control is becoming more challenging. You need a reassessment.’

      ‘I’ll go to my doctor. Soon.’

      ‘It could happen again today.’

      ‘I’ll eat. I’ll go and get a sandwich right now.’

      It took time to persuade Hayley that it would be a good idea to go the emergency department at the Victoria but none of the paramedics were happy to let her go when she didn’t have someone with her to monitor her condition. And Aiden had something else that was bothering him.

      ‘Have you thought of wearing a MedicAlert bracelet?’

      Hayley made a face. ‘It’s bad enough having to live with something like this, without advertising it. And have you any idea how much harder it makes it to find a job? People look at