Nurse In Need. Alison Roberts
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and then caught the surgeon’s eye.
‘Did you operate on Daniel Lever earlier today?’
‘The young man whose car had the argument with a truck?’ Murray Brownlie nodded. ‘Indeed I did. He was lucky to survive.’
‘I hear he needed a splenectomy,’ Amy said. ‘Was that the main source of the abdominal bleeding?’
‘Hard to say whether the spleen or the liver was winning in the blood loss stakes. We ran through twelve units of whole blood before we had things finally sorted. We used autologous blood as well.’
‘That’s where you collect the patient’s own blood and give it back to them, isn’t it?’ Amy asked with interest.
The surgeon nodded. ‘You aspirate clean blood from the abdomen, anticoagulate it and return it to the patient via an IV cannula with a “cell saver” system.’
‘I’ve never seen it used,’ Amy confessed. ‘Daniel must have had some massive bleeding going on.’
‘One of the biggest liver lacerations I’ve tackled in quite a while, actually.’ Murray Brownlie glanced over his shoulder and then gave Amy the ghost of a wink as he lowered his voice. ‘My wife hates me talking shop,’ he told her. ‘Whereas I simply can’t resist.’ He smiled broadly. ‘Anyway, we sutured and ligated all the bleeding points we could find on young Daniel’s liver and then drained it all, but we still couldn’t get control. It was rather frustrating.’
‘What did you do?’ Amy was listening avidly.
‘Well, we achieved temporary control by clamping the free edge of the lesser omentum.’ Murray eyed Amy cautiously. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’
Amy nodded. ‘The omentum is a fold of the peritoneum that extends from the stomach to adjacent abdominal organs. The lesser omentum connects to the liver.’
The surgeon looked impressed. ‘Precisely. We considered putting in an omental pack and suturing it in place, but it wasn’t going to work so we ended up doing a hepatic lobectomy. Took quite a chunk of the lad’s liver out but it’s an amazing organ. Young Daniel should be functioning again quite normally in no time.’ Murray Brownlie smiled at Amy kindly. ‘This really does interest you, doesn’t it?’
Amy nodded. ‘I love everything about my job. I only wish I could follow the patients up more sometimes.’
‘Feel free to come and observe in Theatre any time,’ the surgeon invited. ‘Or come and visit the wards on your days off.’
‘Oh, I’d love to do that,’ Amy said. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled excitedly at Nigel who had just finished his own conversation. Amy was keenly aware of a feeling of gratitude towards Nigel as well as the head of general surgery. Nigel’s respected position at the hospital was opening all sorts of doors for her. It was rather a heady sensation, being taken seriously by someone like Murray Brownlie.
Murray turned to Nigel. ‘If this young lady is half as keen on you as she is on her job, then you’re a lucky man.’
‘I am lucky,’ Nigel agreed, smiling. ‘But I don’t think I need to compete with a job, do I, Amy?’
‘Of course not,’ Amy said obligingly. She didn’t quite follow Nigel’s meaning but dismissed the puzzle in favour of sipping her drink. A waiter appeared with a magnum wrapped in a snowy white linen cloth. He topped up her glass as an elegant woman joined them.
‘Have you met my wife, Nigel?’ Murray enquired. ‘This is Helen.’
‘Hello Nigel.’ Helen smiled. ‘I do hope my husband’s not being a bore and talking shop. This is a stunning party.’
‘Thanks.’ Nigel allowed Helen to kiss him on both cheeks.
‘I’ve just heard about Sydney. Congratulations.’
‘Thanks,’ Nigel said again. He touched Amy’s arm. ‘I must introduce you to some more people.’ He excused them from the Brownlies’ group.
‘What’s happening in Sydney?’ Amy asked.
‘Chair of Orthopaedic Surgery,’ Nigel said proudly. ‘It’s just been announced.’ He smiled at Amy. ‘They chose me.’
‘I didn’t know you’d applied.’ Amy stopped, feeling suddenly bewildered.
‘I didn’t want to disappoint you if I missed out.’ Amy shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. ‘Are you planning to live in Sydney?’
‘Of course. It’s fantastic, isn’t it? I was intending to surprise you with the news later.’
‘Oh.’ Amy felt a wave of dizziness. ‘I’m surprised, Nigel.’
‘You don’t look very excited.’
‘Where am I supposed to live, Nigel? While you’re living in Sydney?’
Nigel’s smile was contrite. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Amy. You didn’t think I was planning to leave you behind, did you? I have no intention of going until after the wedding, don’t worry. We won’t have to be separated for any length of time.’
‘And this wedding is going to be in October, right?’
‘If that’s what you’d like.’ Nigel was still smiling, pleased at having sorted out the misunderstanding.
‘You mean I get a say in this after all?’
Nigel now looked disconcerted. ‘Maybe we should talk about this later, Amy.’
‘Maybe we should,’ Amy agreed. Maybe it wasn’t just Nigel’s mother who was autocratic and overbearing. Amy felt confused. There was too much she needed to think about and her brain wasn’t functioning nearly as clearly as it had been before that last glass of champagne. ‘Excuse me, Nigel, but I really need to go to the bathroom.’
‘Again?’
Amy took pleasure in ignoring Nigel’s vaguely disapproving tone. She walked out of the drawing room, through the conservatory where she helped herself to a bottle of champagne waiting on the side table. Then she let herself out of the French doors onto a verandah that overlooked the garden. Stepping carefully, Amy negotiated the steps and turned onto a path that she knew led to the summer house.
‘What does he expect?’ Amy muttered to herself. ‘He clicks his fingers and I give up my job and trot off to Sydney?’ She paused to drink champagne and top up her glass. ‘What am I supposed to be? Robo-Wife?’
Maybe Jennifer was right and she shouldn’t marry Nigel. What did he have going for him, apart from being single, successful, usually charming and apparently madly in love with her?
‘Oh, hell.’ Amy took another mouthful of wine. He had quite a lot going for him, really. Was she going to throw it all away because she felt miffed that Nigel hadn’t asked what she’d wanted before letting his mother plan the wedding?
The floodlighting hadn’t been turned on at the summer house but the white paintwork was easy enough to see in the dark. A mossy statue to one side of the garden structure was also just visible. A sort of large garden nymph holding garlands of foliage.
‘Why is it?’ Amy asked the statue, ‘that the things that really matter to me don’t seem to be important to anyone else?’
To Amy’s astonishment, the statue answered her. ‘You tell me,’ it said.
‘It’s because I was never quite good enough,’ Amy told the statue sadly. ‘I was supposed to have been a boy, you know.’
‘Really?’ The statue seemed very interested.
‘Yes.’ Amy drained her glass. ‘My father never got over the disappointment.’
‘Well, he was a bloody idiot, then, wasn’t he?’ The statue was moving. Amy gasped in horror as the figure stepped from the shadows.