Fiona Lowe - The Surgeon's Special Delivery

Then he could relax.

He ignored the faint voice in his head that he was overreacting, that Tess was right about the safety of giving birth in Narranbool and that he was medicalising childbirth. James was dead and nothing he could do would change that. But he could do everything possible to safeguard James’s son.

He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. And there was still the problem of his parents. He had no idea how to gently tell two shocked sixty-five-year-olds that they were soon to be grandparents.

Tess grabbed a couple of gowns off the linen trolley, the soft fabaric of her shorts tightening on her behind.

His gaze fixed itself on the plump roundness, his mind immediately imagining how his hands would feel curved against the softness. You’re gawking at a pregnant woman. Now, that’s really classy .

Tess turned, the expression in her chocolate eyes quizzical as she tossed him a gown. ‘Here—catch.’

Her words brought him instantly back to the A and E. Abandoning his lustful thoughts, he immediately became the doctor. ‘What do we know about this patient?’

Tess picked up the beige history folder with the distinctive colour-coded spine that was used in most hospitals around the country. ‘Rosie said he’s a relative of a local family, visiting from Perth. He hasn’t been feeling well since dinner and has complained of heartburn.’

‘That’s the emergency?’ He tugged on his gown and sighed. ‘He probably just needs some antacid and a lecture on the evils of overeating.’

‘You were the one who wanted to come to the hospital.’ She gave him an arch look. ‘We could wish him a myocardial infarction if that’s more exciting for you.’

Her barb hit with unerring accuracy. He loved the rush of an emergency, of dealing with the unknown, having to think on his feet and being just one step ahead of disaster. ‘Sorry. GP work just isn’t me.’

‘No? Really? I would never have guessed.’ Her wide mouth curved up into a smile that raced directly to her eyes, giving her a teasing, sassy look. ‘But you’re here now, action man, so follow me and watch and learn how to talk to a patient who is actually awake.’

Action man . A delicious sensation of warmth unexpectedly scudded through him. His staff at Frontline were fabulous but in Theatre he was the boss and no one ever questioned him. No one ever teased him.

As she walked away from him, an involuntary sound erupted from his throat which he recognised as laughter. A flare of something akin to happiness lightened his chest for a moment before shrinking but not completely fading. He followed her through the double doors toward the source of noise.

‘You need to wait in the waiting area and we will call you back when he’s seen the doctor.’ A tired voice sounded over the clamour of many talking at once.

‘But he’s my brother.’ A woman’s voice rose in agitation, while her pudgy hands gesticulated, sending her many bracelets jangling.

Relatives. They were another reason why he’d become a surgeon. By the time he got to speak to relatives, other staff had usually calmed them down, and after he’d spoken to them briefly, his registrar followed up, answering any other questions.

Callum recognised the distinctive white and blue uniform of a nurse who turned toward them at the sound of the door, relief clear on her face.

‘Tess, I’ve done baseline observations on Mr Renaldo and he’s pretty uncomfortable with epigastric pain.’

‘Thanks, Esther. Mr Halroyd and I will sort him out.’

The middle-aged woman nodded slowly as she took a head-to-toe look at Callum, interest and curiosity bold in her eyes. She turned back to the relatives. ‘The doctors are here now and everyone needs to leave.’ She pointed to the door and started herding the crowd back to the waiting area affectionately known as chairs.

Tess winked at him. ‘Within the hour all of Narranbool will know you’re here. Esther is a great nurse and a great communicator.’

His jaw tightened at the accepted small-town culture. ‘Hmm, that sounds like code for gossip. It probably comes from not having enough to do.’

Tess frowned, her mouth opening slightly before closing into a thin line. With a slight roll of her shoulders she walked into the examination room.

‘Mr Renaldo, I’m Tess Dalton and this is Mr Callum Halroyd. He’s visiting Narranbool, just like you are.’ Tess gave a welcoming smile to their patient.

The pale man propped up on white pillows mustered a smile as the ECG monitor he was connected to beeped reassuringly. ‘Call me Vince.’

Callum nodded in acknowledgement of the greeting.

‘So what’s brought you in, Vince?’ Tess rested the chart board on top of her bump.

‘My sister’s cooking!’ He gave a wry smile. ‘To be fair, I haven’t felt that great since I arrived and tonight the heartburn just got to me.’

Tess’s face expressed sympathy as she rubbed her sternum. ‘I know what you mean. I’m looking forward to eating a curry without revisiting it all night.’

Callum’s patience strained to the breaking point. Small talk had never been his thing which was yet another reason why he’d chosen surgery. By now he would have asked for specific symptoms and be moving into the examination. James had been the member of the family who’d enjoyed a chat, not him.

Tess continued. ‘Is the heartburn just after meals?’

Vince shook his head. ‘It’s been pretty constant and I haven’t been eating much lately. Haven’t really felt like it.’

‘What’s different about today that made you come to hospital?’ Tess rubbed her back.

Callum caught the action and wondered again why she was still on the on-call roster. Surely the registrar could have taken this case.

Vince grimaced and spoke between quick breaths. ‘Today’s a lot worse. I feel really crook, like I’m going to hurl, and I’ve got gut-ache too.’ He gripped the bowl Esther had given him, his knuckles white against the metal.

‘Have you vomited today?’

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. ‘No, but I’ve had some diarrhoea and I dunno what my sister cooked but it was as black as tar!’

Tess immediately glanced over their patient’s head and caught Callum’s gaze, her brown eyes full of concern. Black bowel motions meant blood.

Callum reached for the stethoscope that hung over the top of the BP machine, planning to hand it to Tess.

‘Vince, we need to examine you and I’m going to ask Callum to do that while I insert an intravenous drip into your arm. When the nurse took your temperature it was up, and it’s always good to have some extra fluids on board when you have a fever.’

And when there’s a possibility that you’re bleeding internally . Tess knew her stuff and had swung into a team action approach. He couldn’t fault her decision and the thrill of excitement he got from work kicked in.

‘If you can lie down for me, I’ll palpate your abdomen.’ Callum put the stethoscope around his neck.

Vince’s expression became confused. ‘Do what?’

Tess raised her brows at Callum, a dimple appearing briefly in one cheek. Almost as quickly the muscles in her face schooled themselves into impassivity and she looked directly at Mr Renaldo. ‘He’s going to gently press your stomach to see if it’s tender.’

The patient’s brow immediately cleared. ‘Oh, right.’ He turned to Callum. ‘You should have said so, Doc.’ He gingerly shuffled down the bed and lifted the gown. ‘At least in this heat your hands will be warm.’

Callum silently groaned; sleeping patients didn’t give cheek. He scanned the patient’s abdomen, immediately noticing it was bloated. ‘Let me know if any of this hurts.’ His fingeres pressed firmly but gently, moving over the area, seeking guarding and rigidity, and then he examined the upper midline.