Dr. Preston's Daughter

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘Is that when you’ll take my heart and lungs out?’ asked Tristan.

  Gemma glanced at Janice and saw that she had gone quite pale.

  ‘Yes.’ Stephen nodded. ‘We then put the new ones in—just like mechanics replacing faulty car parts, except in this case they’re sewn into place—and you’ll be taken off the bypass machine. Once your new heart is pumping the blood correctly and everything is working properly, the original incision will be closed and you’ll be taken off anaesthetic and moved into the recovery room. When you’re breathing normally the ventilator can be switched off.’

  ‘What about pain relief?’ asked Janice anxiously.

  ‘Pain will be carefully monitored at all times,’ Stephen replied, ‘both immediately post-op and throughout recovery.’

  ‘Will I come back to this room?’ asked Tristan, looking at Gemma.

  ‘Not straight away,’ she answered. ‘At first you’ll go to our Intensive Care unit where you’ll receive one-to-one nursing, but when you’re stronger you’ll come back to us here.’

  ‘Will I have all drips and bags of blood and things afterwards?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Stephen cheerfully, ‘the works. But you’ll be something of a celebrity by then—we don’t do these ops every day of the week, you know.’

  ‘You have done them before, though, haven’t you?’ Predictably it was Janice who voiced the concern.

  ‘Well, it’s Mr Van Haelfen who’s the expert,’ said Stephen. ‘I’ll simply be assisting but, believe me, he is an expert in this particular field.’

  ‘What about afterwards when I go home?’ asked Tristan.

  ‘You’ll have to take certain drugs to prevent rejection of your new heart and lungs, and there may be side-effects from these drugs, but apart from that there’s no reason why you shouldn’t lead a near-normal life.’

  ‘Thanks, Doc.’ Tristan nodded then lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes.

  ‘I think we should leave Tristan to rest now,’ said Gemma.

  ‘Of course.’ Stephen stood up. ‘I’ll be back later with Mr Van Haelfen.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Janice also rose and picked up her handbag. As Stephen strode out of the side bay she fell into step beside Gemma. ‘He’s lovely, isn’t he?’ she said, staring after the retreating figure of Stephen.

  ‘Er…yes, very nice.’ Gemma didn’t know what to say.

  ‘He was very patient with Tristan and he didn’t treat him like a child, like some of them do. Tristan hates it when they talk over him as if he isn’t there. As he said to me this morning, it’s his body and what they do to it is more his concern than anyone else’s.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll just be glad when it’s all over.’ But I don’t know what I’ll do with myself during the operation.’

  ‘Is there no one that could come and be with you?’ Gemma frowned. She knew from experience how important it was for relatives to have support at such a crucial time. ‘It might help, you know, to have someone by your side,’ she said. When Janice remained silent, she added gently, ‘What about Tristan’s father?’

  Janice shook her head. ‘We divorced years ago—he hasn’t seen Tristan since he was a baby. But I might give my sister a ring—she’d come and sit with me if I asked her.’

  ‘I should do that,’ encouraged Gemma. ‘It’ll be better for you to have someone here.’

  As Janice went off to the coffee-shop Gemma found herself thinking about what she’d said about Tristan’s father and she realised that if ever in years to come she found herself in a situation like this, she too would be alone with Daisy. The only difference would be, however, that Daisy’s father wasn’t absent from his daughter’s life by choice but because he knew nothing of her existence. She was conscious of something that could only be described as a stab of guilt that she hadn’t told Stephen he had a daughter. But she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it entered her mind. Maybe she should have done so but if that was the case it should have been at the time. It was far too late now.

  ‘Gemma, you’re looking very preoccupied these days.’ Suddenly Kim was at her elbow.

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I was.’ Gemma tried to sound nonchalant.

  ‘Is everything all right at home?’

  ‘Yes, fine.’

  ‘Daisy all right?’ Kim persisted.

  ‘Yes, yes, Daisy’s fine.’ Wildly she found herself looking over her shoulder to make sure that Stephen wasn’t around. If he had been, it would have been so easy for him to ask who Daisy was and for the inevitable reply to come from Kim.

  And it would happen. It was bound to happen. Stephen would be sure to find out with them all working on the same unit—it was madness to suppose that he wouldn’t—and when he did there was no knowing what his reaction would be. Maybe he would be furious…

  Gemma gave herself a little shake in an attempt to stop her brain leaping ahead. Time enough to cross those bridges if and when she came to them.

  The cardio unit, in its state of alert pending Tristan’s transplant, seemed to throb with excitement for the rest of the day. Word went round that the donated organs had arrived and tests were being carried out. At last when tension was at breaking-point word came from Mr Van Haelfen’s office that the operation was to go ahead.

  Philip Ombuto, the Nigerian anaesthetist, came to examine Tristan and spent a good half-hour talking to the boy and his mother, As he left, Bjorn Van Haelfen himself swept onto the ward, together with Stephen and Madeleine Powell, both of whom would be assisting him with the transplant.

  ‘It seems, Tristan,’ said the tall Swedish consultant, ‘that this time we have a green light. Are you ready for this?’

  ‘I’m ready.’ Tristan managed a weak smile. ‘More to the point, are all of you?’ He looked round at the three medics.

  ‘Oh, absolutely,’ Bjorn Van Haelfen answered for them all. ‘You need have no fears on that score.’

  After the team had left the ward Gemma and Kim prepared Tristan for Theatre, helping him into a white hospital gown, administering his pre-med then drawing the curtains around his bed and leaving him to rest quietly.

  ‘Can I sit with him?’ asked Janice.

  ‘Of course.’ Gemma smiled warmly. ‘But he may want to drift off to sleep.’

  ‘I won’t talk to him,’ said Janice. ‘I just need to be with him.’

  As Gemma made her way back to the nurses’ station she found Mia Gallini standing at the desk, reading through a patient folder. ‘Mia,’ she said, ‘is Barbara McCleary back from Theatre yet?’

  Mia nodded. ‘Yes, she’s in Intensive Care.’

  ‘Did her op go well?’

  ‘Yes, as far as I know,’ Mia replied.

  ‘I wanted to see her before she went to Theatre,’ said Gemma, ‘but I’ve been so busy with Tristan I didn’t get the chance.’

  ‘How is he?’ Mia glanced towards the side ward.

  ‘Remarkably calm for one so young who’s facing what he is,’ Gemma murmurs quietly. ‘In fact, it’s his mother I feel for at the moment. As it is, Tristan soon won’t know much about anything, but it’ll be agony for poor Janice for the next few hours.’

  The two nurses fell silent for a moment, each reflecting on the drama being played out around them that day. It was Mia who broke the silence, changing the subject completely. ‘Are you going to Alex’s party at the weekend?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ Gemma replied. ‘It depends, really.’

  ‘On whether your mum will have Daisy?’ asked Mia sympathetically.

  ‘Something like that, yes.’ Gemma nodded then frowned as a woman appeared at the entrance to the unit. She was about forty and looked hesitant but anxious. ‘Can I help you?’ Gemma asked with a smile.

  ‘My nephew is a patient here. His name is Tristan Margham. He came in this morning…’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Gemma. ‘You’re Mrs Margham’s sister.’

  ‘She phoned me. Is it all right for me to be here?’


  ‘Of course it is. I’ll just tell her you’re here. I’m sure she’ll be delighted. If you wouldn’t mind just waiting there a moment.’ Leaving the woman at the desk, Gemma hurried back to the side ward and gently opened the curtains a few inches. Janice was sitting beside Tristan who was lying on his bed with his eyes closed. She was holding his hand.

  ‘Janice,’ whispered Gemma. When Janice looked round she went on, ‘Your sister has just arrived.’

  ‘Oh.’ Gently Janice extricated her hand from that of her son’s and stood up. ‘Can she come in here?’

  ‘Best that Tristan is quiet for the moment,’ said Gemma. ‘But she can wait in the relatives’ room then you can join her there when he goes to Theatre.’

  ‘All right.’ Janice nodded. ‘I’ll just come and say hello to her.’ She stood up and Tristan opened his eyes.

  ‘Mum?’ he said.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Janice. ‘Auntie Sue has just arrived. I’ll just say hello then I’ll be right back.’

  ‘I’ll stay with Tristan for a moment,’ said Gemma.

  When Janice had gone Tristan looked up at Gemma. ‘I’m glad she’s come,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want Mum to be on her own while all this is going on.’

  ‘Yes.’ Gemma nodded. ‘It’s good that she’ll have someone with her, especially her sister.’

  ‘Then if something does go wrong…’ said Tristan.

  ‘Nothing is going to go wrong, Tristan,’ said Gemma firmly.

  ‘I’m not a kid.’ Tristan blinked several times in rapid succession.

  ‘No, I know you’re not.’ Gemma was suddenly mindful of what his mother had said earlier about how he hated it when people treated him like a child or like he wasn’t there.

  ‘I know as well as you do that something could go wrong,’ said Tristan, displaying a maturity way beyond his years. ‘All I’m saying,’ he went on, ‘is that if it does, I’m glad Auntie Sue will be with Mum.’

  ‘You’re very brave, Tristan.’ Gemma smiled. ‘But equally, if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be glad that your mum has someone with her to share her happiness.’

  ‘OK.’ Tristan grinned, then looked up as his mother came back into the room.

  ‘Auntie Sue sends her love and says she’ll see you later.’ Janice sat down and took hold of her son’s hand once more.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Gemma. As she left the side ward she found herself reflecting that it didn’t necessarily have to be a spouse or a partner who could offer support at such times. Indeed, when Daisy had been born it had been her mother who had stayed with her for the birth. Suddenly she found herself wondering what it would have been like if it had been Stephen at her side instead of her mother, but somehow the idea disturbed her, almost as if even to think such a thing would be beyond her wildest dreams. She was forced to put it right out of her mind in order to concentrate on the ward routine.

  An hour later the porters arrived to take Tristan down to Theatre and Sister Miles asked Gemma to accompany him. The air of tension on the ward had reached an all-time high as Tristan told his mother that he didn’t want her to go down to the Theatre with him. ‘You’ll only get upset,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine—Gemma’s coming with me. You go and find Auntie Sue and have a cup of tea.’

  ‘All right.’ Reluctantly at the doors of the unit Janice let go of Tristan’s hand. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she whispered.

  ‘Too right you will,’ said Tristan with a wave of his hand.

  Gemma glanced at Janice and saw that her eyes were brimming with tears, and as they passed her Gemma managed to squeeze her hand. They left the unit to calls of encouragement from staff and patients alike.

  ‘Good luck, Tristan…’

  ‘See you soon, lad…’

  ‘All the best…’

  Gemma herself was forced to swallow as unexpectedly she found there was a lump in her throat and the walk to Theatre that day, something she had done on countless occasions, had a sense of unreality about it. The porters laughed and joked with Tristan, mainly about his football team and the big match that was coming up to start the football season.

  ‘Gemma’s going to fix up the telly at the bottom of my bed, aren’t you, Gemma?’ said Tristan.

  ‘You bet.’ Gemma laughed. ‘And I may just join you for a ringside seat if I’m on duty.’

  When they reached the Theatre the porters wheeled Tristan into the anaesthetics room where they were met by Philip Ombuto and the Theatre sister.

  ‘This is where I hand you over, Tristan,’ said Gemma.

  ‘I want you to stay until I go to sleep,’ Tristan twisted his head so that he could see Gemma.

  Gemma glanced at the sister, who nodded. The porters departed and as Gemma took hold of Tristan’s hand the double doors to the Theatre swung open and Stephen appeared, dressed now in his Theatre greens and clogs, a dark red cap knotted at the back of his head and his mask hanging loosely around his neck. Walking to the boy’s side, he took Tristan’s other hand but his eyes met Gemma’s across the bed.

  ‘Is all well, Staff Nurse Langford?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Dr Preston.’ Steadily and for a long moment she stared back at him until, forced to avert her gaze because of something in his eyes, she looked down at Tristan, ‘Everything is fine, isn’t it, Tristan?’

  Tristan nodded. ‘Gemma’s going to stay with me till I go to sleep.’

  ‘That’s good.’ A smile played around Stephen’s mouth and Gemma knew he was thinking of a game they had once played in what now seemed like a previous life about who would fall asleep first. Mercifully Tristan spoke again and the moment passed.

  ‘Is everything all right in there?’ Tristan nodded towards the Theatre.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Stephen nodded. ‘We’re all ready for you.’

  ‘So it’s really going to happen this time?’ Tristan took a deep breath that somehow turned into a sigh.

  ‘You’d better believe it,’ Stephen replied cheerfully. ‘You will soon be the proud owner of a brand-new pump and a pair of bellows.’

  As Tristan managed a chuckle Philip moved forward to take over and there followed some friendly banter between himself and Tristan.

  ‘I’ll see you later.’ Stephen smiled and nodded at Tristan, and as he moved away from the couch in readiness to go back into Theatre his gaze once more met Gemma’s. ‘Your shift will be finished before we’re through, won’t it?’ He spoke quietly so that Tristan wouldn’t hear.

  Gemma nodded. ‘Yes, but I’ll phone in later to see that all has gone well.’ Looking down at Tristan, she saw that Philip had administered the anaesthetic and Tristan’s grip on her hand had slackened.

  ‘This young man is out for the count,’ said Philip.

  ‘In that case, I’ll be on my way.’ Gemma took a last anxious look at the boy as the staff moved forward to move him into Theatre where Bjorn Van Haelfen and his team were waiting.

  ‘How was your day?’ asked Jill when Gemma arrived home.

  ‘Rather emotional actually.’ She dumped her bag on the floor and bent to give her daughter a long kiss.

  ‘Really?’ Jill looked up in surprise. She was sitting at the kitchen table with Daisy who was playing with a pink plastic teaset, currently the little girl’s favourite toy.

  ‘We had a young man in for a heart and lung transplant,’ said Gemma, ‘and I have to say his particular case got to me more than most.’

  ‘Any reason for that?’ asked Jill. Patiently she tipped the water Daisy had poured into the cups back into the teapot so that for the umpteenth time the whole process could start again.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Gemma considered. ‘Possibly because he’s so young, because he’s waited a long time for a match and because he’s so brave…’

  ‘Supportive family?’ Jill looked up again.

  ‘Yes.’ Gemma nodded. ‘Although there’s only his mum really. She’s divorced and there’s no contact with his father. I suppose it just got to me, that’s all. I’m
glad to say that his aunt turned up at the eleventh hour to offer support but…oh, well…’She trailed off, uncertain what else to say. Instead she looked down at Daisy. ‘Have you been a good girl today?’ she asked.

  ‘We had a bit of a tantrum in the supermarket,’ said Jill, ‘but that was because she wanted to load up the trolley with more than I wanted. The woman on the checkout said it was just a touch of the Terrible Twos but I wasn’t sorry to get out to the car.’

  ‘Oh, Daisy,’ said Gemma, ‘that was naughty, wasn’t it?’

  The little girl hung her head then looked up at Gemma from under her lashes.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and run your bath and give Grandma a break.’

  ‘Want to play tea parties…’ protested Daisy as Gemma scooped her up into her arms.

  ‘You can play tea parties later,’ said Gemma firmly.

  ‘Want to play now! Don’t want a bath! Want to play…’ Accompanied by howls of rage, Gemma carried her small daughter up the stairs to the bathroom.

  The howls soon abated as Daisy became entranced with the bubbles from the bath foam. ‘Pretty…’ she said as she reached out to catch them as they floated up above the bath.

  It was later, much later when the phone rang. Daisy was tucked up in bed and had dropped off to sleep after listening, wide-eyed, to her bedtime story, and Gemma and Jill had eaten their supper. Gemma had started to clear the plates and was stacking them in the dishwasher so it was Jill who took the call.

  ‘Gemma, it’s for you,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’ Gemma looked up. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Someone called Stephen Preston.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GEMMA stared at her mother, convinced she had misheard her. ‘Who did you say?’ she said at last.

  ‘Stephen Preston,’ Jill repeated. ‘At least I think that’s who he said. Don’t you know anyone called Stephen Preston?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I do,’ muttered Gemma. ‘I just didn’t think he would ring here, that’s all.’ Brushing past her mother, she walked into the hall and with her heart thumping she picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’ she said.