Marion Lennox - Midwives On Call - Stealing The Surgeon's Heart

‘What am I going to do?’

This time she did say it out loud, teeth chattering as she clutched at her stomach, hating with a passion her appendix, which had chosen this time in her life to introduce itself to its owner. The bright lights of the phone booth across the road beckoned her to come over.

And it was the longest, loneliest walk of her life, the most difficult call she had ever made, picking up a telephone and dialling the emergency number, listening to the calm voice at the other end as she tried to fashion her mounting hysteria into a voice, to say the three little words that no one ever really wanted to say.

‘I need help!’

EVEN though it was the last thing she wanted to happen, the sound of the sirens in the distance were a welcome relief. The pain in Harriet’s stomach was so severe now she couldn’t even sit. All she could do was lie on the bench as the ambulance pulled up and the familiar faces of Max and Tara appeared, their green jumpsuits as familiar as her own nursing uniform, their tender professionalism everything she needed as they gently asked her what had happened.

‘I was unwell at work. The doctor thought I might have appendicitis…’

‘He let you go home?’ Tara asked, surprised, then gave a low laugh. ‘Or did Sister Farrell insist that she knew better?’

‘Something like that. I’m so sorry to drag you guys out. Maybe I should have called a taxi.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Max shook his head as he dragged the stretcher from the ambulance to the bus stop, having realised at a glance there was no way she could make the short walk to the ambulance. ‘We’ll get you in the warm vehicle and get a drip started. Here, have a few sucks on this before we move you.’

A plastic tube was handed to her and Harriet dragged on it, grateful for the short relief the painkiller offered as they slowly lifted her onto the stretcher and moved her into the ambulance.

‘Do we have to go local?’ Harriet asked, knowing the answer before it came.

‘It’s an emergency callout,’ Tara responded, concentrating on inserting the drip into Harriet’s hand. ‘We have to take you to the nearest hospital and, given that you’ve already been seen there by a doctor tonight, surely it makes sense…’ Seeing Harriet’s eyes fill with embarrassed tears, she changed track. ‘Your friends are there, Harriet, people who know and care about you. They’ll give you the five-star treatment. Surely that can only be good?’

But she didn’t want the five-star treatment. Instead, she wanted unknown faces treating an unknown patient, couldn’t bear the thought of having to answer the question that would surely be on everyone’s lips.

‘What were you doing at a bus stop?’

Over and over the question had been asked—by the paramedics, by Louise, who was still stuck on Triage, by the nursing supervisor as she’d directed the stretcher into cubicle one in an attempt to spare Harriet the indignity of the entire department seeing her brought in, by Susan, her concerned face looming over her as she pumped up the blood-pressure cuff. ‘You were supposed to be at home. Why on earth didn’t you just—?’

‘Enough!’

The single word, however sharply spoken, couldn’t disguise the thick accent, and as the staff finally melted away, Harriet closed her eyes in shame as Ciro stood over her. He’d already examined her on arrival and commenced treatment, but thankfully that was a distant vague blur, but now the fluids that were being delivered intravenously were starting to kick in and the oxygen being administered through nasal prongs was having the supposed desired effect, the world was starting to come back into focus. Harriet listened as he dismissed the gathered nurses and paramedics, waiting until the cubicle was vacant before finally she managed to peel her eyes open, bracing herself for the question she had heard incessantly since her arrival.

Instead, it was answered.

‘Your husband is staying in a hotel for work, and had you told me that you knew I wouldn’t have let you go home alone…’

Confused, Harriet blinked back at him.

‘You’ve had trouble with the phone since you moved in, haven’t you?’

‘Thank you.’ It was all she could manage, her voice strangling in her throat as Ciro dealt with the social absurdities that still mattered at times like this. ‘I just couldn’t bear everyone’s sympathy at the moment, the gossip that would start. I’m just so ashamed.’

‘Silly girl,’ Ciro said, but not unkindly, the backs of his fingers sweeping her forehead to check her temperature. ‘You should—’

‘Should have what, Ciro?’ Harriet interrupted. ‘I found my husband in bed with another woman. I was hardly going to ask them to move over so that I could lie down! What did you expect me to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I’m just glad that you had the presence of mind to call for help when you did. Had you not called, your appendix might have ruptured and you would have been very ill indeed.’

‘It was either call for help or sit at the bus stop all night.’

‘Life will start to look up very soon.’

‘It has to.’ Sunken, dry eyes stared back at him. ‘After all, just how low can one person go?’

‘You should be asking Drew that, Harriet, not yourself.’

‘How did you know?’ she gulped. ‘I mean, how did you guess what had happened when I went home?’

He gave a vague shrug. ‘You said yourself that nothing was happening in the…’ His English wasn’t that good, but painfully she caught the drift. ‘It was stupid of me to send you home unannounced in the early hours of the the morning, given what you’d told me. I’m sorry,’ he added, as if this whole stupid mess was his fault. ‘It must have been awful for you.’

‘I was sick on the carpet.’ Why she was filling him in, Harriet had no idea, but somehow sharing the most embarrassing details made them seem less so. ‘I left it for him to clean up—told him that if he thought my job was so easy then he should try it.’

‘Good for you.’ A smile broke out on his face and even though she’d seen him smile before it was like witnessing it for the first time because now it was aimed entirely at her—his eyes softer now, intimate almost. Not for the first time that night, Harriet felt bewildered and confused, but for entirely different reasons.

Impossibly shy all of a sudden, she lowered her eyes. ‘Can I have some Maxalon now?’

‘You already have.’ He attempted a smile. ‘And a massive dose of pethidine. That’s why you’re able to talk. The surgeon is ready for you in Theatre. You’ll go to EHU afterwards. Unfortunately there aren’t any beds on the surgical ward, but I’m sure they’ll find you a side room tomorrow.’

EHU stood for Emergency Holding Unit, a rapid-turnover ward that acted as a holding bay for emergency patients when the wards were full, but Harriet couldn’t have cared less where she was admitted. At least she’d have a bed for a couple of days! All she wanted right now was for the pain in her stomach to go so she could focus on the pain in her heart.

‘Is there anyone you want me to call for you?’ Ciro asked, ever practical.

Harriet shook her head.

‘What about your parents?’

‘There’s only Mum, she lives in Perth.’ It was all she could manage, her lips almost numb, her mind curiously clear. ‘I don’t want to worry her.’

‘What about your husband?’ Ciro pressed gently. ‘He is your next of kin. Someone ought to know what’s happening to you.’

‘Please, don’t call him.’ She shook her head against the pillow. ‘I just don’t want to see him yet.’

‘OK,’ Ciro soothed. ‘I’m not going to do anything without your permission. But perhaps this may be the wake-up call he needs—’