by Aimée
If she were her goddaughter’s age again, she would do things differently. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Because she would probably follow the rules again – the social rules of her family background, that had taught her every girl wished for a Prince Charming. She might not marry George, though. She might be wiser, recognise the signs – be less naïve. She would probably still choose to become a doctor and to join the Army – she wouldn’t espouse her new career any earlier. She still struggled with her decision every day, but had it really been a decision? Sometimes she thought He had forced her hand. And most of the time, she felt as if she hadn’t really had a choice, because everything had been written in the Book of Life – because if she hadn’t been in the Army, she would most likely have stayed in Old Blighty, and never thought she was going to die…
If she hadn’t joined the army while in medical school, she would probably still be in debt. Anyway, the army scholarships had enabled her to achieve her aims and to become the doctor she was now. The Commissioning Course had pushed her limits but it had also taught her a lot about herself and her abilities. Her first posting abroad had been in Kenya – Nanyuki base, where the British maintained a medical unit. Fresh out of general training, she had welcomed the change of scenery, despite being terrified. She had travelled abroad before, but only in Europe, with friends. Africa was a big step into the unknown.
Her first impression of the medical team at Nanyuki was that they never stopped – the two surgeons and the handful of doctors and nurses seemed to be always on the go, always busy, and not that welcoming. After two days during which she had hardly spoken to anyone except to acknowledge orders in theatre or to ask timidly where various supplies were kept, Greyson felt decidedly homesick. She wondered whether she would be able to stay six months – and yet, she would have to, because she didn’t really have a choice – she was under orders, not on a holiday.
When the medical team realised after a few days that she didn’t need hand-holding and seemed to know her job, they became much more friendly, and the weight on her chest began to lighten. They worked mainly with the locals, either treating the population or helping to train nurses. They also participated in healthcare campaigns, travelling to remote villages to vaccinate children and adults. Greyson enjoyed these opportunities to visit the country and meet the locals. Most of them didn’t speak English, but smiles went a long way. About a month after her arrival, she was sent to a village to administer hepatitis vaccinations. The two nurses accompanying her grumbled at the prospect of the hundred-mile trip but she was glad of the opportunity to escape the base for a day. They had nearly finished and were preparing to go back when a white woman came up to their makeshift tent. Richard, one of the nurses, went to speak to her, leaving Greyson and Mary, the other nurse, to finish packing up. A few minutes later, he came up to Greyson, looking troubled: “We have a problem. Elisabeth thinks there may be two cases of diphtheria in their dispensary. They don’t have a doctor, although two of them are qualified nurses.
“They?”
“There’s a small community of deaconesses about a mile from the village. They help with literacy teaching, but they also have a five-bed dispensary. They usually help with births and things like that, but not much more …”
“I see…” In truth, Greyson couldn’t begin to understand why people would choose to live that way – isolated from the real world, always with the same small group. She would suffocate in less than a week. Sure, in the Army, she had to make do with communal living, but it was different. As for the religion part… Well, her parents had taken her to church for Christmas, and she had been baptised. She had had RE at school, too, of course, but she wasn’t quite sure she believed in God.
Her colleague interrupted her thoughts: “Elisabeth wanted to know whether you could lend a hand.”
“Well, of course! What are we waiting for?”
“Nothing, but … They’ll be waiting for us at the base.”
“Radio them and tell them we’ll be late – we have to go.”
She may not quite understand faith and religion, but she understood disease, and she would never shirk her duty. Half an hour later, they were on their way to the community. As soon as Greyson stepped in the infirmary, she knew Sister Elisabeth had been right – the raspy breathing was instantly recognisable. Luckily, they always travelled with antibiotics, and she injected the two children without delay. Seeing that Richard was beckoning to her, she stepped out of the room:
“What is it?
“The Colonel wants us to go back – he says we can come back tomorrow with more supplies, but he doesn’t want us to stay here the night. There are rebel troops around, and they could seize the jeep and the gear during the night.”
“But that’s ridiculous, Dick! I can’t leave those children now.”
Richard shrugged: “Sorry, Greyson – those are the orders.” Greyson bit her lips and considered her options. Not that she had a lot of choices. “All right. Here’s what we are going to do – you and Mary go back. I’m staying here, and you can come back tomorrow for me, with supplies.”
Richard and Mary argued for a while but to no avail, and they finally left her with the sisters. Once her colleagues had gone, she agreed to join the community for a meal After one month in the country, she was still not used to the heat – the scorching, humid heat her skin reacted to. It also exhausted her, and after a full day of work, she felt ready to drop. During supper, the sisters explained that their congregation, the Emmanuel sisterhood, was attached to the Presbyterian church – they were mostly a nursing and teaching order, with an evangelisation mission. What struck Greyson the most during that meal was the joie de vivre of the sisters – she had never heard so much laughter around a table. They even made washing the dishes and tidying up sound like fun. It almost made her forgot that she had effectively disobeyed an order from her CO and that there might be consequences. But if she saved the kids’ lives it would be worth it.
Armed with a cup of strong coffee, she prepared for a sleepless night in the infirmary. One of the children seemed to be already reacting to the antibiotics and had drifted into sleep. The other one, a little boy of about seven years old was watching her with huge black eyes, and his breathing was coming out in short bursts of shallow rasps. His temperature was very high and he turned and twisted into the bed. As the night progressed, she heard his breathing becoming more and more laboured and when she went to examine his throat, she saw the thick membrane across it. She knew what she had to do – she had minimal equipment and the room was poorly lit, but if she wanted to save the boy, she would have to perform a tracheotomy – her first on a real person. She had managed well enough on the mannequins at med school, but what would it be like on a real-life child? Luckily for her, the fever had taken hold of the little boy and he wasn’t struggling anymore – he just laid there, almost lifeless. She took a deep breath and plunged the needle into his throat – a wheezing sound told her she had succeeded. When one of the sisters came in in the early morning hours, both boys were asleep and she was dozing off herself.
The next thing she knew, she was woken up by a coughing sound. She looked at the two beds – the younger boy with the trach tube seemed to be slumbering peacefully, but the other one was wide awake, thrashing around and coughing blood. Frantically, she searched her memory for treatment option, but she knew it was too late. What she had taken for an improvement was actually a slow decline towards the end. He choked to death in front of her less than an hour later. Sister Elisabeth arrived at six in the morning with a steaming cup of coffee and found Greyson sitting on the floor, her head in her hands. When the young doctor heard the footsteps, she looked up and murmured miserably: “I’m sorry, Sister – I’m so, so sorry – I should have saved him.” Sister Elisabeth dropped to her knees near her and took her in her arms, patting her back. They remained like that for several minutes, and when they rose, the sister took Greyson by the shoulders and forced her to look in her eyes: “Only God c
an make miracles, Doctor – we are not God. He wanted this little boy with Him – it may seem unfair, but we are not to question His ways – you did your best.”
When Richard arrived three hours later with fresh supplies, Greyson still hadn’t said a word. Sister Elisabeth explained what had happened and Richard looked at Greyson with pity. He had a daughter about the same age as her, and he was bloody glad she wasn’t a doctor or a soldier. She was a secretary in a law firm, the right job for a young woman. He wasn’t a misogynist, and he liked Lieutenant Walsden, but he thought she should be safely in England, maybe in a family practice. When he saw she had been struck dumb, he unloaded the supplies and explained to the sisters how to use them while Greyson sat in the jeep.
He made a few attempts at conversation during the drive back to camp but Greyson just sat there, oblivious. He warned her that she was in trouble with the CO, but she didn’t react. When they arrived at the base, she gave him a brief smile and went straight to the barracks. She grabbed a towel and a fresh t-shirt and made straight for the shower block. She remained as long as possible under the tepid water, and her tears mingled with the trickle of water.
The ringing phone interrupted Greyson’s reminiscences.
“Doctor Walsden.”
“Greyson – it’s Emily Jones. Is this a good time to talk?”
Not really – the memories of Africa had brought her back to a dark time, and she felt in no mood for small talk, but Emily Jones was her Spiritual Director as well as her supervisor, and she had already given the older lady the run-around, as she was initially not the best suited candidate for the job. Therefore, she held the phone away from her face, took a deep, deep breath and tried to put a smile in her voice: “Of course, Emily – what can I do for you?”
“Tell me what that huge sigh was for?”
Greyson sighed again – Reverend Jones was too perceptive for her own good.
“Nothing, really, Emily – I’m fine. I was just taking a little trip down memory lane, and…Well, it’s a bit of a bumpy ride.”
Greyson could almost hear Emily Jones frown at the other end of the line: “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, you know, Greyson. Everyone has a past – it makes us go further. Life experience allows us to build on concrete, not on quicksand.”
Probably sensing the doctor wasn’t in the mood for a sermon, the vicar came to the motive of her call. “Greyson, I would like you to visit one of the parishioners. Or actually, she’s not really a parishioner, but I think she would benefit from our prayers and someone to talk to.”
“Why can’t you do it?” asked Greyson rather ungraciously before she had time to think and bite back the words.
“Because she would probably prefer someone closer to her own age… Someone who’s not a dry old stick like me. Besides… She has already rebuffed me – that’s why you have to try.”
Greyson bit her lower lip – one-to-one counselling – not really her forte. She wasn’t the pushy, foot-in-the-door, kind. She could be if it meant saving a patient’s life, but in normal life, it was another thing she would have to learn to do. After all, she would be supposed to interact with the community. If the road to hell was paved with good intentions, the road to her chosen job was a step-by-step analysis of her strengths and weaknesses, which should ultimately lead to self-awareness. She sighed again and almost whined: “But – I’m not sure I’m the best person for the job – and I don’t know this woman, and I’ve got my essay to finish and…” She cringed internally – even to her own ears, she sounded like a petulant child.
“It’s not a suggestion, Greyson – it’s an order. Don’t tell me you haven’t learnt to obey orders, Colonel?”
“Sorry, Emily – of course, I’ll do it. Tell me where to go.”
Greyson knew when she was beaten – she had heard the note of humour in the vicar’s voice, but also the note of steel. Anyway, she had chosen this path – she couldn’t back away at the smallest difficulty. Compared to all the hoops she had had to jump through already, it might be a piece of cake.
“I knew you would do it – thank you, Greyson. You sort of know the woman already – do you remember the funeral of a child, a few months ago? I’d like you to visit the mother. She isn’t particularly fond of the church, but I just can’t not try. I – I’d consider that as a personal favour, too. I grew up with her father – we were neighbours. We’ve been friends since childhood – he lost his wife from cancer when Angela was a teenager, and since then – well, anyway – you will try to reach her, will you?”
Something pinged painfully in Greyson’s brain – surely it couldn’t be? Surely Angela was a common enough name. But a name and a funeral…
“Angela?”
“Angela Arlingham, dear – I’ll send you her phone number and address by email. Thank you, Greyson – I knew I could count on you. Enjoy your evening.”
After she’d hung up, Greyson sank further into her couch. This was a nightmare – a bloody nightmare! Only one woman had caught her attention since she had left the Forces and although she would have welcomed any other excuse for meeting her again – this was just not on. But she had promised her supervisor she would do it, and she couldn’t break her promise. Obedience, once again, was the steepest wall she would have to climb. Did her new career really ask of her to forgo any possible chance of a relationship? Greyson almost laughed to herself as she realised what she had just thought – she was building castles in Spain…there was absolutely no reason for Angela to be interested in her – the woman was straight! Rather than dwelling on what seemed like an impossible conundrum, she went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of cocoa, snatched a pack of biscuits and tried to watch a documentary on dogs – she would love to have one… Maybe once she was more settled. However, it didn’t hold her interest enough to keep her mind from going back to her days in Kenya…
Chapter 10
We might think that God wanted simply obedience to a set of rules: whereas He really wants people of a particular sort. C.S. Lewis
When Richard had driven her back to camp, she had remained in a state of shock – she still couldn’t believe the little boy had die. She had lost patients before, but never a child. She couldn’t understand the nun’s quiet acceptance of his death either – she wanted to rave and rage at the unfairness of it all. They hadn’t been back at the base for more than two hours before she was hailed by one of the nurses and told her Commanding Officer was waiting for her. Colonel Patrick was a senior consultant and the head of the medical unit, and she had only met him once very briefly when she’d arrived in Nanyuki. However, she had heard about his achievements as a surgeon and he was a well-known name in trauma care. When she had been told he was in charge of the unit, she had hoped she would be able to impress him…this might not be the best way. Richard’s words echoed in her head: “The chief said he’d bloody like to kill you, Walsden…”
A glance at Colonel Patrick’s eyes as she stood before his desk confirmed he was not happy with her. His icy blue eyes scanned her from head to toe and she shivered despite the heavy heat. After the shower, she had scrubbed herself raw, hoping to get rid of the images of the dead child, but they felt etched into her skin, as did the guilt of not saving him. She hoped he couldn’t see she’d been crying, but her eyes were bloodshot and lined with tiredness. She fought to keep standing straight and stared straight ahead.
“What happened yesterday, Lieutenant?”
She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she remained silent.
“You disobeyed a direct order from your superior. You risked your own life unnecessarily.”
“I didn’t risk my life, sir – I just …tried to do my job.”
“Oh, really? And you job was to defy my orders?
“The little boys – I had to try, sir …I thought …”
“Look, Walsden, I know you were a bloody civilian not long ago, but I thought you’d been trained, and that a doctor would at least be able to understand direct or
ders. Or did you leave your brain behind in Blighty?”
Greyson hung her head.
“Answer me, Lieutenant!”
“No, sir.”
“What if you’d been captured by the rebels ?”
“…”
“You’re no bloody use to us if you’re dead! Can you at least keep that in that stubborn head of yours?”
“Yes sir.”
Greyson knew she should have obeyed, but if the orders went against what she thought was right…
“Do you know I should send you back to England for this? Maybe cut your funding?”
If she could have crossed her fingers, she would have done so, but as she was standing to attention, it was not a possibility. She tried her toes, but her boots were not quite large enough. In a corner of her mind, she had known – but she’d thought …
“Anyway, you didn’t save them, did you?”
“I saved one, Sir”, she whispered, tears threatening again. It was cruel of him to remind her – as if she would ever forget. Then the Colonel spoke again, and his voice had softened: “I’m sorry – from what I’ve heard, you did a remarkable job with the tracheotomy – not easy on a kid. But we can’t always save them – sometimes it’s just too late. Even if we do our best … Don’t beat yourself up about this, Walsden – I’ve heard good things about you, you just need to toughen up.” Not waiting for her answer, he went on, his voice once again martial: “I’m prepared to be lenient, Lieutenant – you’ll be fined, and we have a supply room that needs tidying – that’s what you’ll be doing for the next two days.”
Greyson heaved a discreet sigh of relief: “Thank you, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
She saluted and left the room. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened there, but she knew she’d had a near escape. And when some years later, she was made Lieutenant-Colonel, she remembered that sometimes, it was all right to temper justice with mercy.