Page 39 of Stranded with the Surgeon
Their progress along the corridor was temporarily blocked by a patient being moved with a large entourage of medical attendants. They were manoeuvring the bed with extreme care and Jennifer could see that they had an unstable spinal injury patient, probably on the way to Theatre or Intensive Care. The young male had his head secured in halo traction and was on a ventilator.
‘Motorbikes,’ the accompanying consultant muttered as he passed Jennifer. ‘Don’t you love them? C4-5 fracture.’ He turned his head again a moment later. ‘Only two weeks to go, Jennifer. Still confident?’
‘As always, John.’ Jennifer’s smile felt forced.
John’s looked smug. ‘May the bestmanwin and all that.’
The journey with Courtney’s mother continued in silence. John was the main competition Jennifer faced in the upcoming decision regarding a new head of department for Auckland Central’s emergency department. A few years older than Jennifer, he was amused by her bid for the top job and rarely missed any opportunity to put her in what he considered to be her place.
Common dislike of John’s arrogance might well work in her favour, she decided a little later, having finally left the hospital after confirming that Colin was responding to treatment and his condition improving. Her chin rose unconsciously as she started the short walk to her apartment. The nagging irritation that the talk with Courtney’s mother had generated now had new fuel.
She’d show her fellow consultant. She’d win this position, and when she did, she’d do something about the way John interacted with both his colleagues and his patients.
It was a Friday evening, and the cafés and bars in the trendy commercial area of Jennifer’s apartment were all buzzing. She walked past people sitting at tables on the pavement, and a wave of nausea swept over her at the rich aroma of roasted meat. Ducking down her alley, she punched in the security code for the gate and ran upstairs to let herself into her apartment and get to the bathroom just in time.
With a facecloth soaked in cold water and pressed to the back of her neck, Jennifer stared at her pale reflection in the mirror. What on earth was wrong with her? She was probably hypoglycaemic, she decided. It had been a physically stressful day and she hadn’t eaten anything other than a biscuit with a cup of tea at some point late in the morning. She often got through a hard day without a meal, but she hadn’t had her usual breakfast this morning, had she? The thought of food had made her feel queasy even then.
Jennifer hoped she wasn’t coming down with some kind of virus. She needed to be on top of her game in the runup to this job interview, and she was already at a disadvantage with her broken arm and the general tiredness she couldn’t quite shake off. It was just as well she had declined the invitation for a night out on the town. What she needed was a hot bath, some good food and an early night before another 6a.m. start tomorrow.
Soaking in scented water, Jennifer started mentally ticking off the day’s cases. Often only a couple stood out and the rest became an easily forgotten blur unless her memory was jogged. For some reason, not being able to remember the details of all of them, or put a name or face to a case, had become disheartening over the last couple of weeks.
Peter was easy to remember because he’d reminded her of Guy. Colin had made her think of Digger. The psych patient with his desire for revenge against all women was certainly memorable, and that toddler with the ear infection had been called something a little unusual. India? No, Africa. The name of an elderly woman with a fractured femur had vanished completely, however, and Jennifer sighed, giving up the game.
Maybe she was just pushing herself too hard at the moment in her determination to slot back into the routine of her normal life and create the kind of impression that would help her win the coveted position of head of department.
Keeping her cast dry while bathing had become part of the daily routine, but Jennifer was looking forward to having it removed. She was due for another X-ray on Monday, which would be four weeks since the fracture. At least it wasn’t painful any longer. Just irritating.
Like not being able to remember the name of that old woman. The one who’d slipped while mopping her kitchen floor. Gloria? Gladys? When the hairbrush slipped from her hand a moment later, Jennifer actually swore aloud. Then she shook her head and laughed at herself. Being irritable and snappy denoted a lack of control that had never been a fault of hers, and she wasn’t going to tolerate it now. What she needed was a glass of wine to wash away the nagging sense of unease that seemed to be plaguing her.
John wasn’t worth wasting emotional energy on. Except that this mood had started before that meeting in the corridor, hadn’t it? She’d been angered by the reminder of what she’d risked by that night with Guy.
Nearly a month ago.
Let it go, she told herself.It’s over.
Except that it wasn’t, was it?
Jennifer stared at her glass of wine, but she didn’t raise it to her lips. The irritation left in the wake of the conversation with Courtney’s mother had had nothing to do with her own stupidity regarding that night. She had been stupid all right, but it was the continuance of that state providing the irritation now. She had been a perfect example of the kind of denial she had described to Courtney’s mother, but the awareness of what had been provoked was only just surfacing now.
She’d taken a risk and maybe shehadn’tbeen so lucky. It was four weeks ago now. The stress of the whole experience might not be enough to explain why her period was a little late. And two weeks couldn’t be considered alittlelate either.
‘Oh, my God,’ Jennifer breathed.
Was it possible she waspregnant? WithGuy Knight’sbaby?
It was easy enough to find out. A quick trip to the staff toilet with a testing kit at 6a.m. the next day confirmed the suspicion that had kept Jennifer awake for most of the night.
The shock would have been numbing except that it didn’t have much of a chance to set in. Jennifer was still washing her hands when a nurse burst into the rest room.
‘Oh,thereyou are, Dr Allen. We’ve got an arrest in Resus 2 and there’s a multi-victim MVA arriving any minute.’
‘On my way.’ The crumpled paper towels fell into the rubbish bin and covered an equally crumpled pregnancy test kit.
Jennifer almost stopped in her tracks on entering Resus 2. Why, of all days, did she have to face a case like this right now?
‘Apparently found non-breathing fifteen minutes ago,’ Doug informed her. ‘CPR started by the ambulance crew.’
The small paediatric defibrillator pads looked far too large for this tiny chest and the plastic tube securing the airway obscenely out of place.
