Mistletoe Magic. Кэрол Мортимер
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he’s very demanding as well…’
‘Because he’s confused,’ Eden argued futilely. ‘Once he settles into a routine he’s fine. Look how good he is here.’
‘I know,’ Lorna sighed. ‘But it’s looking more and more likely that Ben’s going to end up in a residential unit—there aren’t many foster-families out there capable of looking after a child with Ben’s needs. I’ll speak to Donna first thing tomorrow and pencil in a team meeting for the end of this week. We really do need to look at some other options for Ben.’
‘Donna?’ The emergency nurse asked.
‘She’s the paediatric unit manager,’ Eden explained as she took the admission notes and X-ray films, her heart sinking at the thought of Ben living out his short life in a long-stay residential facility. ‘As you can probably tell, we all know Ben pretty well. What bloods have been done?’
‘None.’ The emergency nurse gave a rather too casual shrug. ‘It was a locum and he’s not used to taking blood from a child. He thought it might be better for Maxwell, I mean Ben, if the paediatrician did it on the ward.’
It would have been easier to say nothing, to just take the notes and say goodbye, but Eden simply couldn’t just walk away.
‘Did you remind the doctor about universal precautions?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Confused, the nurse frowned back at her.
‘Did you remind the doctor that every patient, regardless of their symptoms or status, should be treated as if they have a communicable blood disease?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ the nurse said, but from the colouring in her cheeks she clearly did.
‘We know Ben’s HIV positive,’ Eden said tersely. ‘Remind the doctor for me that it’s the patients we don’t know about that should cause us the most concern.’
‘Eden.’ As the emergency nurse stormed off, Lorna touched her arm. ‘Don’t go getting upset.’
‘Why don’t they just admit that they didn’t want to put an IV in, rather than coming up with all that nonsense about pushing fluids and the doctor wasn’t used to taking blood from children? What the hell’s he doing a shift in Emergency for? It’s a cop-out and everyone knows it!’
‘Just who are you really cross with here, Eden?’
‘Don’t try your psychobabble on me, Lorna,’ Eden said, running a worried hand over her forehead. ‘Do you really think he’s going to end up in residential care?’
‘He might,’ Lorna said warily. ‘Look, Eden, there’s nothing you can do. We’ve been over and over the options and there’s just no way that you can manage—’
‘Manage what?’ Nick’s voice had both women jumping, and Eden shot an urgent look at Lorna as Nick frowned at the two of them, clearly expecting to be brought swiftly up to date.
‘We were just discussing Ben’s long-term care,’ Lorna said warily. ‘Discussing his options.’
‘And what exactly is it that Eden can’t manage?’ Nick asked, his question direct, his eyes swinging between the two women who were both taking great interest in the floor all of a sudden.
‘Nothing,’ Eden mumbled. ‘I was just moaning about the staff in Emergency, how they didn’t take any blood or put in an IV. Lorna just pointed out there was nothing I could really do to change things, that technically they’d done nothing wrong.’ A lousy liar at the best of times, Eden scuffed the floor with her foot, only letting out a relieved breath when Nick, clearly not impressed, stalked off.
Eden looked anxiously at Lorna. ‘You won’t say anything?’
‘Why would I?’ Lorna shrugged. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Thanks.’ Eden gave a tense nod. ‘It’s just if anyone found out, they’d think…’
‘That you were too involved?’ Lorna finished for her. ‘Which you are, Eden.’
‘I can handle it,’ Eden said stiffly, but Lorna didn’t look particularly convinced.
‘You know my pager number—if you need to talk any time, call me.’
Nick was already midway through his examination by the time Eden arrived at the cot-side. She smiled down at Ben as Nick gently probed his abdomen.
‘Could you hold him for me while I check his ears and throat?’ Nick asked.
Eden happily obliged. She picked Ben up and took a seat, holding his head against her chest as Nick carefully checked one ear and then deftly turning Ben around so that the check could be repeated on the other side.
‘Now for the fun bit,’ Nick said in a dry tone.
Eden held Ben tightly, one hand clamped on his forehead, as Nick attempted to check his throat. But this was the part Ben hated. Instantly he clamped his jaws tight, shaking his little head furiously as Nick waited with his lolly stick and torch poised for when he finally gave in and opened his mouth.
‘Come on, buster,’ Nick coaxed. ‘It’s only going to take a second.’
And as Ben finally gave in, his mouth opening in a sob of fury, Nick pushed down his tongue and peered down his throat. Ben squealed his protests and Eden waited, waited for the cursory examination to be over, for the torch to flick off and for Nick to throw the lolly stick into the plastic bag, but instead Nick was pushing the stick harder. Ben gagged and Eden’s knuckles were white as she struggled to hold his head still. Nick peered around the child’s mouth. For an appalling second Eden thought she might let go, that she might just rip that blessed lolly stick out of Nick’s hand, might tell him to stop looking for things that she didn’t want him to see.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she held Ben firmly, fear—pure, naked fear—growing in the pit of her stomach. Cold fingers of terror touched her heart as Nick finally pulled out the lolly stick, but instead of taking Ben from her as he always did, instead of comforting the sobbing child, he pulled off his gloves and gently probed the little boy’s neck, his fingers working their way slowly down to his axilla.
‘Lay him on the cot for me.’
Nick’s voice was flat, his eyes not meeting Eden’s as she did as she was told. She watched as he pulled off Ben’s nappy and carefully examined his groin.
‘He’s a bit dehydrated. We should put in a drip and do some bloods.’
‘I can try and give him a bottle. Maybe once he’s settled…’ She stopped talking as Nick almost angrily shook his head.
‘He isn’t drinking because his mouth is sore,’ he explained. ‘He’s got oral candida.’ Children the world over got thrush—there were two babies on the ward at this very minute with the same condition—but the huge difference was that Ben was three years old and was HIV positive, and thrush was one of the warning signs in a child like Ben that his condition could be tipping over into full-blown AIDS. ‘He’s got enlarged lymph nodes, Eden.’ Nick’s voice bordered on the apologetic, as if the news he was delivering was somehow his fault. ‘And from his notes he’s lost weight since his last admission. We need to do a full lab screen and see exactly where we are.’
The treatment room was the place of choice for performing procedures. Any child upset on the ward made the other children anxious and where possible patients were moved to the treatment room well out of earshot of the other children. Even though Ben’s skin would be numbed, the insertion of an IV and taking of blood was distressing for a small child, especially one like Ben who, even if he couldn’t feel it, knew exactly what was happening and his tears and distress would upset the other children on the ward. But Ben had passed through the doors many times and Eden felt him stiffen in her arms as she carried him along the corridor. ‘It’s OK, sweetheart,’ Eden said softly. ‘Dr Nick’s