Ken McClure: White death

Tidyman took a deep breath as if contemplating a question he’d rather not have had put to him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s giving us cause for concern and the nurses have been asked to keep an eye on the problem. It’s probably just some kind of reaction to the infection but they’ll apply moisturiser at intervals throughout the night… I know the suggestion won’t be welcome but there really is nothing you can do here. Why don’t you both go home and try to get some rest. We’ll call you if there’s any change and be assured, our nurses will take great care of your son.’

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ said Dan, ‘I think we will.’ He steered Marion towards the door. ‘Mind and call us if anything changes?… We won’t be sleeping.’

Dan and Marion were back at hospital before nine next morning leaving a sleepless night behind them and half-eaten sandwiches and half-drunk cups of tea all over the house. It had seemed that making tea and sandwiches for each other was therapeutic but eating and drinking them wasn’t. They were met by a new doctor when they got to the IC suite.

‘You’ve just missed Dr Tidyman; he’s just gone off duty. I’m Dr Merry.’

Dan looked at the slip of a girl in front of him with Dr Jane Merry on her name badge, dark hair tied back with a lilac ribbon, tight matching sweater emphasising young breasts and a pencil slim skirt and dark stockings worn in deference to the notion of power dressing. Christ, thought Dan, she looks fourteen years old. Her gaze and confident voice however assured him that she wasn’t. ‘How is he this morning, Doctor?’ he asked.

‘Not much change I’m afraid. We’re expecting the lab culture reports within the next thirty minutes,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you both go along to the machine and grab some coffee and I’ll come and find you. I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep last night.’

Marion warmed to the solicitous comment and smiled. ‘Thank you, Doctor, C’mon Dan. Let’s do that.’

They were on their second coffee, sitting by the machine, when Dan saw the young doctor coming towards them. There was something in her walk that suggested immediately to him that all was not well — that and the fact that she wasn’t alone.

‘Hello again,’ said Jane Merry. ‘This is Dr Trevor Sands, my boss,’ she said with a weak attempt at humour. ‘We’ve got the lab results. Dr Sands thought we’d be more comfortable in his office.’

Dan and Marion nodded to Sands and got up to follow the other two without comment although alarm bells were ringing in their heads.

At least, he looks like a doctor, thought Dan, appraising the middle-aged man across the desk from them who was smartly dressed and wearing a college tie. He also found the wedding ring, short conventional haircut, and golf club calendar on the desk reassuring. ‘Any further forward, Doctor?’

Sands folded his hands on the desk in front of him and said, ‘I’m afraid the lab has failed to find the cause of your son’s infection. Their tests for bacteria and viruses have all proved negative… so far.’

‘But how can that be?’ protested Dan. ‘If he’s clearly got an infection how come the lab says he hasn’t?’

‘I have to say it comes as a bit of a surprise to us too,’ said Sands. ‘We felt sure that they’d find the cause if for no other reason than because the infection is at an advanced stage and has spread throughout Keith’s body. But, having said that, there’s still time for them to come up with the answer. Some bugs take a longer time to grow up in culture than others.’

‘And in the meantime?’ said Dan, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.

Sands made a defensive gesture with the palm of his hand and said, ‘Rest assured it’s not a case of us doing nothing until we hear back from the lab. Your son is being given a course of broad spectrum antibiotics as we speak.’ He saw the blank look on Dan’s and Marion’s faces and added, ‘Broad spectrum in the sense that these antibiotics are capable of killing a wide range of bacteria. There’s a good chance that one of them will be the culprit causing Keith’s infection.’

‘So we wait.’

‘There’s nothing else for it, I’m afraid. I promise you we’ll call you if there’s any change in your son’s condition.’

Dan and Marion got up to leave. ‘Could I just see him once more before we go?’ asked Marion.

Dan and Marion stood looking through the viewing window with Jane Merry standing between them. ‘His skin,’ said Marion. ‘It’s getting worse.’

‘I’ll mention it to the nurses again,’ said Jane Merry.

Night Nurse Evelyn Holmes glanced up at the clock and saw that it was time to sponge down Keith Taylor. She had all the other information about his condition on the monitors in front of her on the desk nicknamed ‘The Enterprise’ by the staff due to its similarity to the flight deck of the famous starship. Sponging a patient’s skin and applying lanolin required the human touch.

‘There we are, my lovely,’ she cooed as she gently cleaned the skin of her unconscious patient, thinking to herself that Keith Taylor was round about the same age as her eldest boy who, at three in the morning, would be sound asleep in his bedroom and completely oblivious of the fight that her charge, Keith Taylor, was engaged in.

‘You are in a bit of a mess… aren’t you,’ she whispered as she patted Keith’s neck and face dry before starting to apply the cream. ‘But you’re young… you can fight this thing… In a few months’ time… you won’t even remember any of this… Oh, Jesus Christ!’

The nurse recoiled in horror and felt her blood run cold as part of Keith Taylor’s cheek started to come away in her hand as she applied the cream. One minute she was making gentle circling motions with the tips of her gloved fingers, the next a hollow furrow had opened up under Keith Taylor’s left eye and blood welled up in the trough as the skin gave way and a portion of flesh doubled over to hang limply on Keith’s lower cheek like some giant, hellish, teardrop.

Trevor Sands, called from his bed by an anxious duty doctor, had lost all semblance of urbanity. Sweat was trickling down his nose as he listened to Evelyn Holmes’ account of what had happened while he examined Keith Taylor for himself. ‘Ye gods, his skin is like tissue paper,’ he complained as his gloved hands probed gently. He took the bridge of Keith’s nose between his thumb and left forefinger while he tried to restore the loose flap of flesh to its rightful place but felt a hollow appear in his stomach when he felt movement between his fingertips.

‘Something wrong?’ asked the duty doctor.

Sands looked at him, his eyes filled with disbelief. ‘The bridge of his nose… it’s collapsed…’

Evelyn Holmes put her gloved hands to her mouth. She was unable to stop herself from saying, ‘He’s falling to bits.’

The corner of Keith’s mouth was next to go causing the ventilator tube to hang at a crazy angle and deepening the living nightmare of all those around him. No one wanted to touch the patient so it was left to Sands, as the senior medic present, to try to reposition the tube but what he feared might happen did happen as Keith Taylor’s insides proved as fragile as the rest of him and his trachea collapsed. ‘It’s hopeless,’ he said.

Keith Taylor died shortly after 4 a.m., before his parents could be summoned. Sands was waiting for them when they did arrive and invited them into his office. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid it was all very sudden. It took us completely by surprise.’

Dan Taylor looked at the man sitting behind the desk and thought how different he looked from the last time he’d seen him. This man was wearing a sweat-stained T-shirt and needed a shave. He was wringing his hands in front of him as he spoke. Taylor closed his eyes as Sands said, ‘We did everything we could.’ He’d somehow known the man was going to say that and it left him cold. ‘What happened?’ he asked in a voice he scarcely recognised himself.