Susanne Hampton - Unlocking the Doctor's Heart

He turned to walk away, then paused in mid-step. ‘Quite frankly, Dr Seymour, I wasn’t keen about this RMO exchange. It’s an irritating disruption to a busy department and from what I’ve seen this morning, I doubt I’ll be convinced otherwise.’

‘I... I...’ Beth fell over her own words with nerves. ‘I was just trying to explain to Mr...’ It had happened again. Her mind went inexplicably blank. It never happened to her. She was always in control, remembering names had never been an issue. What was happening? Her composure had suddenly taken a leave of absence.

‘Mr Somers,’ the A and E consultant added snidely, looking at the case notes under Beth’s arm. ‘And, Dr Seymour, try to remember names. It’s a professional touch we encourage Down Under.’

‘As I was saying,’ she returned quickly, ‘I was just explaining to Mr Somers that he needed to go to Pharmacy.’

‘Well, the message wasn’t getting through, was it?’ he replied curtly. Then with his dark brows knitted and his arms folded across his ample chest, he stared in silence at the patient. Beth wasn’t sure whether it was his towering stature or threatening demeanour, but something made Mr Somers move quickly through the gap in the curtains and out of sight.

‘Well, that didn’t seem so difficult, Dr Seymour. I wonder whether we should put your problem down to a lack of assertiveness. Or perhaps you weren’t in a hurry.’

Beth found his unremitting and unjust criticism more than she could handle. She paused for a moment before replying. She wanted to gather the last shreds of composure she possessed. Australia was supposed to be different. A new start where she would be valued as a doctor and also as a person. She had to make that clear now.

Finally, with a calm that belied her still shaky confidence, she challenged her aggressor. ‘You’re wrong with both suggestions, Dr Harrison. It appears that Australian men are not astute enough to get the message when it’s delivered politely. But don’t worry, I’m sure I can alter my delivery to suit the occasion. I learn quickly.’

She watched as the corners of his mouth curved slightly. Not a full smile, but Beth was relieved to see it at least wasn’t the face of a man about to end her medical career. In fact, to her surprise, she found herself thinking it was a very handsome, almost roguish face. The blue eyes that had threatened her only minutes before now seemed to sparkle as they lingered on hers. She felt her pulse quicken and blood flow into her cheeks. Conscious of her blushing, she abruptly turned her gaze from him, trying to concentrate on her case notes, but still she felt strangely distracted by his presence so close to her.

* * *

Matthew liked her spirit. She had just stood up to him, and not many people could do that. They cowered to his seniority and his reputation, but Beth hadn’t flinched when she’d given back as good as she’d got.

‘OD in Priority One,’ called a nurse as she raced past them.

Beth felt a firm hand on her arm. ‘Well, Dr Seymour, let’s see just how fast you learn!’ He directed her into the corridor and with hasty steps they followed the nurse.

‘I can learn while running. I hope that’s fast enough.’

Matthew gave a wry smile, which she took as affirmation. Without further debate she followed him into a room filled with nursing staff and an attending doctor already working on stabilising the patient. Beth recognised the young doctor from the lift. It was Dan Berketta.

The young male patient he was attending lay on the barouche looking deathly pale. An intravenous line had already been inserted into his forearm and as the patient was unconscious Dan inserted a Guedal airway to prevent the patient’s tongue from obstructing his airway. One nurse took over the bag resuscitation while another cut down the length of his shirt. With the patient’s bare torso exposed, Dan immediately began cardiac compression.

‘Suspected scenario, Dr Berketta?’ asked Matthew Harrison as he put on latex gloves and threw a pair across to Beth.

‘Heroin overdose, the girlfriend told us,’ Dan replied, his voice gritting with the force he exerted on the patient’s chest. ‘The paramedics administered oxygen and Narcan en route. He was here five minutes when he ripped the IV out and attempted to leave. He made it about three feet before he arrested on the floor.’

‘Still no pulse,’ said a nurse.

Beth moved closer to offer assistance as Dan continued with the compressions.

‘No improvement,’ came the nurse’s update.

Immediately Dan reached for the defibrillator paddles, his eyes constantly returning to the heart monitor.

‘Everyone stand back,’ instructed Dr Harrison.

The nurse already had the paddles smeared with conducting paste.

‘Now!’ Dan held the paddles to the man’s chest. The young man’s back arched with the surge they generated.

Eyes turned to the heart monitor. Still no beat registered. ‘Increase to three hundred.’

‘Three hundred,’ the nurse confirmed.

‘Clear again,’ Dan called as he threw his weight behind the pads once more. The man’s body convulsed with the force.

‘We have a trace,’ the nurse called.

‘Competent work, Dr Berketta,’ Beth heard Dr Harrison say, as he reached for the patient’s chart. ‘But let’s not be overly confident yet. Get someone from Cardiology down here to see him. I want five-minute obs, full biochem and haematology work-up and a drug screen, and one of the nurses should let the girlfriend know we’ll be holding onto lover boy for at least twenty-four hours. Let’s just hope he used a clean needle.’

‘Bit late for that,’ said Dan, slipping off his disposable gloves and untying his surgical gown. ‘The blood results from his last OD are in his file. He’s hep C positive. Not that he knows yet. According to his notes, he’s been out of the country and they haven’t been able to make contact.’

‘I’ll leave it in your hands, Dr Berketta, but arrange for a counsellor to be present when you inform the patient of his condition,’ the consultant cautioned.

Beth closed her eyes for a moment and clenched her trembling hands. She didn’t even know the man on the barouche but an incredible anger swept over her. She couldn’t help but notice his expensive clothing and conservative haircut. He wasn’t a street junkie. Everything about him was in conflict with the popular image she’d once had of a heroin addict.

As she watched him lying there with an oxygen mask covering his pallid face, Beth controlled her impetus to shake him to his senses. To ask him why he was throwing away his life. To find out what drove him to do it. What void was he filling with drugs? Beth found it so sad and so frustrating.

She felt a firm hand on her shoulder and turned her eyes to see Dr Harrison’s face lowered to her level as he spoke. ‘Had any contact with ODs during your training, Dr Seymour?’

‘Too much, I’d say.’ She had seen so many young lives destroyed by drugs. It seemed to be almost an epidemic during her training in London—including one of her fellow medical students, who had been a close friend all through school.

‘It’s a sad fact of life in the city.’

‘And that means it’s acceptable?’ she retorted loudly, a little too loudly, she quickly realised.

‘No, but it means there’s nothing you or I can do except patch them up and let them get back on the street to score their next hit. Although,’ he paused ‘...by the look of the manicure and haircut on this one, he’s a corporate user. A yuppie with a habit.’

Beth felt her body stiffen. His words cut deeply as she thought back to her friend who’d been three weeks away from graduating when he’d overdosed. ‘It’s a stupid waste of a life and we get to clean up the mess they leave behind.’