A Very Special Surgeon

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘What?’ cried Natalie. ‘You can’t leave it there!’

  ‘Sorry,’ called Kate over her shoulder, ‘can’t stop now—too much to do.’

  ‘But, Kate,’ Natalie wailed.

  ‘Catch you later!’

  ‘Too right you will,’ retorted Natalie.

  Chuckling to herself, Kate hurried to the antenatal bay and found Kirsty talking to her mother.

  Mrs Austin looked up as Kate approached, holding out the cordless telephone.

  ‘I’ve told her,’ said Kirsty in a small voice, ‘about Scott and about how I’d like him to be here.’

  ‘Here’s the phone,’ said Kate, passing it to the girl.

  The look of disgust that had been on Kirsty’s mother’s face at the first mention of the baby’s father had gone now and been replaced by one of if not actual defeat then certainly resignation.

  ‘I think it could be for the best,’ said Kate as she drew the curtains around Kirsty’s bed to allow the girl some privacy while she made her call. ‘Far better that than to alienate her and the boy.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ There was a helpless look in the other woman’s eyes now as they moved away from the bed.

  ‘I’ve suggested to Kirsty that a social worker might be of help while you discuss options,’ said Kate. ‘You’ve had a shock, Mrs Austin,’ she added kindly, ‘and you need time to come to terms with things. Maybe you need to contact your husband and involve him with what has happened.’

  ‘He’ll go mad.’ The woman shook her head. ‘Kirsty is the apple of his eye—his little princess he used to call her. I can’t imagine how he’ll take this.’

  ‘You may find that he’ll be more supportive than you think—once he’s got used to the idea, that is.’

  ‘She can’t keep the baby. It’s out of the question. It’ll have to be adopted.’

  ‘At the moment,’ said Kate, ‘I think Kirsty is saying that she does want to keep the baby. What you need to think about, Mrs Austin, is that this baby will be your grandchild, yours and your husband’s. Maybe he won’t want his grandchild being adopted by strangers. And then, of course, there is Scott and his family…’

  ‘The Armstrongs?’ Mrs Austin looked up sharply as if this aspect of events hadn’t occurred to her. ‘They are our next-door neighbours! Oh, lord, what a mess all this is!’

  ‘The most important thing at the moment,’ said Kate gently, ‘is to get Kirsty and Scott’s baby safely delivered, and that’s my job. Now, I’m going to give Kirsty an injection to help with the pain. You can sit with her if you wish but I don’t think it’s a good idea at this stage to worry her with the moral aspect of what has happened or the practicalities of what is to happen in the future. There will be time enough for all that later. I suggest that all Kirsty needs at the moment is love and support, especially from her mum.’

  ‘She’s only fourteen, Sister…’ said Mrs Austin helplessly.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Kate replied patiently. ‘Now, come on,’ she went on after a moment, ‘she’ll be wondering where you are.’ Briskly she led the way back to Kirsty’s bed and after checking that the girl had finished her telephone conversation she drew back the curtains. ‘Did you speak to Scott?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Kirsty nodded. ‘He says he’s coming in—and he’s going to tell his parents.’

  ‘Well, that’s a start anyway,’ said Kate with a glance at Kirsty’s mother. ‘He has responsibilities now and at least he’s started to face up to them. Now, Kirsty, I have something here to help with the pain.’ Turning the girl onto her side, Kate swabbed the skin on her upper thigh and swiftly administered an intramuscular analgesic.

  Leaving mother and daughter together, Kate made her way back to the nurses’ station, which by this time was a frantic hive of activity. The threatened miscarriage case had arrived and was being admitted; two babies had been delivered in the labour suites, and the new fathers, still in a state of shock, were trying to phone their families; a woman attending an antenatal clinic had gone into premature labour and because of the shortage of beds had been placed in one of the postnatal suites; and if all that wasn’t enough, the phone on the desk was ringing and when Kate took the call it was from a paramedic to say that a woman had just given birth in the back of an ambulance and they would be arriving at the hospital in the next ten minutes.

  ‘We’ll need a paediatrician on hand for the baby and an obstetrician to check the mother,’ the paramedic went on to explain.

  ‘Are there any specific problems?’ asked Kate, at the same time frantically wondering where she would put the new arrivals.

  ‘Baby is having difficulties with his breathing and mother is bleeding profusely—we’ve set up an infusion but both of them will need urgent attention.’

  ‘Right, thank you,’ Kate replied. ‘We’ll be ready.’ Lifting her phone again, she dialled the number for Tom’s pager. He answered almost immediately. ‘Mr Fielding,’ she said. ‘Sister Ryan here.’

  ‘Hello, Kate,’ he said, and for some inexplicable reason her heart turned over. She couldn’t imagine why, then quickly came to the conclusion that it was because in all the bustle and confusion she had momentarily forgotten the weekend and all that had happened—the shared intimacies, the laughter and the companionship. She had been expecting a formal greeting from Tom, ‘Sister Ryan’ instead of simply ‘Kate’.

  ‘We have an emergency coming in,’ she finally managed to say. ‘Baby delivered by paramedics, mother apparently suffering a postpartum haemorrhage. Arrival expected in about ten minutes.’

  ‘I’ll come down,’ Tom replied. ‘Neil Richardson is about to go into Theatre but Matt Forrester is here. I’ll ask him to come with me if you like.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Fielding,’ she replied. ‘Sorry to have interrupted your meeting.’

  ‘That’s OK. It had almost finished anyway.’

  As Kate replaced the receiver Melissa came out of the antenatal suite. ‘Kirsty is in fairly strong labour now,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll come and see her,’ said Kate. ‘It’s probably time we moved her into the labour suite.’ She was about to move away from the desk when she caught sight of a boy who had just come through the double doors onto the unit. With his fresh complexion and gelled hair, he reminded Kate of Joe Fielding. An older man, whom she assumed to be his father, accompanied him. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘it looks like someone else has come to see Kirsty.’ She moved forward to meet the pair who looked as if they were in a state of shock. ‘Can I help you?’ she said. ‘I’m Sister Ryan.’

  ‘My name’s Sam Armstrong,’ said the older man, ‘and this is my son, Scott. The school called me to say…’ He trailed off seemingly struggling to find the right words.

  ‘Hello, Mr Armstrong, hello, Scott,’ said Kate pleasantly. ‘You’ll be here to see Kirsty, Scott,’ she added, ‘and there’s no doubt she’ll be pleased to see you. Now, Mr Armstrong, if you’d like to wait over there in the relatives’ room. Scott, if you would come with me.’

  Sam Armstrong seemed quite relieved to be going to the relatives’ room. As Scott followed Kate to the antenatal suite she turned and spoke to him. ‘Kirsty is in labour, Scott, and you can sit with her for as long as you want to.’

  ‘What about when the baby’s born?’ His face was deathly pale and he looked terrified. For a moment Kate felt sorry for him.

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that when the time comes,’ she said. ‘But you can certainly help by comforting Kirsty at this stage.’

  ‘Is…is…her mother there?’ asked Scott fearfully.

  ‘Yes, Scott, she is,’ Kate replied, then was forced to smother a smile as Scott swore under his breath.

  When they entered the antenatal suite and approached Kirsty’s bed, Mrs Austin’s reaction to seeing Scott was somehow lost in Kirsty’s overwhelming joy and relief.

  ‘I would say there’s real love there between those two, young as they are,’ said Kate to Mary as she returned to the nurses’ statio
n a few moments later.

  ‘It’s the boy’s father I feel sorry for,’ said Mary, as Kirsty’s mother stalked out of the antenatal suite and headed for the relatives’ room. ‘That’s what you call falling out with the neighbours—big time.’

  ‘You never know,’ said Kate, ‘it could just all turn out for the best.’

  ‘You mean one big happy family all doting on one small baby?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Kate smiled. ‘Stranger things have happened. Now, Mary, what next?’

  ‘Gillian Edgerton is about to deliver—Natalie is with her. And Mr Fielding has just arrived to examine the lady who delivered in the ambulance. Oh, looks like they are here now…’ Mary broke off as the paramedics came through the double doors to the unit with their patient on a stretcher.

  ‘Morning, Sister,’ said the younger of the paramedics cheerfully.

  ‘Good morning, Paul.’ Together with Mary, Kate hurried forward.

  ‘This is Mrs Perren,’ the paramedic said. ‘Dee Perren. She gave us all a surprise this morning when she gave birth to little Timothy in the back of our ambulance. Isn’t that right, Dee?’

  The woman nodded. She looked exhausted and very pale. ‘I want my baby,’ she whispered.

  ‘Of course you do,’ said Kate as she checked the infusion the paramedics had set up. ‘He will be down in the special care baby unit by now, where he will be very well looked after by Sister Forrester and her team. What we have to do is to get you ready so that you can go and see him.’

  The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as Dee Perren was transferred to a bed—it had to be in the labour suite as there were no antenatal beds available—the paramedics departed and Tom came to examine Dee.

  ‘The placenta has broken and parts have been retained in the uterus,’ Tom said to Kate after his examination. ‘We need to get her straight to Theatre for a D and C. If you’ll have her prepped, please, Sister, while I scrub up.’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Fielding.’ They were professionals again, not friends, as the busy ward routine went on. Kirsty Austin, by this time in strong labour, was moved to the labour suite and Dee Perren was prepared for Theatre.

  ‘I’m scared, Sister,’ said Dee fearfully, clinging to Kate’s hand as she accompanied her to the anaesthetics room.

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Kate gently. ‘It’ll soon be over.’

  ‘What are they going to do? I know the surgeon told me but I can’t remember what he said.’

  ‘You’ll have an injection in the back of your hand to put you to sleep,’ Kate explained, ‘then when you are in Theatre Mr Fielding will clear your womb of all the bits of the afterbirth that have been left behind and he’ll cauterise it to stop the bleeding. You’ll also be given a blood transfusion to replace the blood you’ve lost.’

  ‘And after that I’ll be able to see my baby?’ Dee asked tearfully.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Kate replied. ‘And we’ve had another call from your husband to say he’s on his way, so by the time you wake up, he’ll probably be here.’

  ‘Will you stay with me until I’m asleep?’

  ‘Of course I will.’ With a reassuring smile Kate guided the trolley into the anaesthetics room.

  When Dee was unconscious and had been taken into Theatre, Kate returned to the nurses’ station where she escorted a new mother and her baby to the postnatal suite. On her return Mary reported that Kirsty seemed to be in difficulties. ‘She’s had gas and air but she’s exhausted,’ she said. ‘I don’t think she’s going to be able to push much longer.’

  ‘I’ll take a look at her,’ said Kate, and together she and Mary made their way to the labour suite.

  ‘You need a bit of help, Kirsty,’ she said after she’d examined the girl. ‘We’re going to use some forceps to deliver your baby. I suggest, Scott…’ she turned to the boy, who was sitting beside the bed ‘…you go to the relatives’ room and wait.’ Kate smothered a smile as Scott fled at the mention of forceps and delivery.

  By this time Tom was out of Theatre and when Kate paged him he came immediately to attend Kirsty. Gently and quietly he talked to the frightened and exhausted girl, reassuring her as he administered a local anaesthetic and performed a small incision before using forceps to help ease her baby into the world.

  ‘We have a girl,’ he said a little later. In the moment after he’d cut the cord and with the baby still in his hands, his gaze briefly met Kate’s and in that instant she knew that they were both thinking of their own daughters—of how they had once been the size of the baby that had just been delivered, and of how they were both now nearly the same age as the baby’s young mother. A moment later Tom gently placed the baby in Kirsty’s arms and both he and Kate witnessed the look of awe and amazement on the girl’s face as that which until very recently she had chosen to deny became reality.

  ‘Hello, little baby,’ she whispered. ‘Hello, Lucy.’ As the baby’s face crumpled, she said, ‘Don’t cry—Mummy’s here.’

  It was Tom himself who, a little later and accompanied by Kate, went to the relatives’ room where they were greeted by three anxious faces. ‘All is well,’ he said. Looking directly at Scott, he added, ‘Congratulations, you have a healthy daughter.’

  Scott flushed scarlet, his father gave a huge sigh of relief and Kirsty’s mother promptly burst into tears.

  ‘If you’d like to come with me,’ said Kate, ‘I’ll take you down to the postnatal ward to see Kirsty and the baby.’

  They found Kirsty sitting up in bed, still a little dazed from the birth, with the baby in her arms and Melissa by her side. ‘Look, Scott,’ she said, lifting back the shawl so that he could see the baby’s tiny face and a tuft of dark hair. ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’

  Kate and Tom left Scott and Kirsty and their daughter, and Mrs Austin and Sam Armstrong admiring their new granddaughter, and made their way back to the nurses’ station.

  ‘You were thinking what I was thinking back there, weren’t you?’ said Tom as they walked down the corridor.

  ‘If you mean that Siobhan and Francesca aren’t far off that girl’s age, yes,’ she admitted.

  ‘And Joe,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘and Joe.’

  ‘That boy probably is the same age as Joe and now he’s a father—it’s a very sobering thought,’ Tom added.

  Natalie was seated behind the desk at the nurses’ station and she looked up as they approached, her eyes narrowing slightly as she saw them together apparently deep in conversation. ‘David Perren has just arrived,’ she said, looking from one to the other. ‘Is his wife ready to go down to SCBU yet?’

  ‘Yes, she can go.’ Kate nodded. ‘Melissa can go down with her. Perhaps you’d like to page a porter, Natalie.’

  ‘Do you think it would be safe for me to go and take a clinic?’ asked Tom with a sigh.

  ‘Well, you could try, Mr Fielding,’ said Kate with a smile, ‘but don’t be surprised if I have to call you back in the middle of it. It appears to be one of those days.’

  ‘For you, Sister—anything.’ Tom smiled, one of the rare smiles that lit up his whole face—something that wasn’t too familiar with the staff but which Kate had now witnessed several times.

  ‘Friendly today, isn’t he?’ murmured Natalie as Tom disappeared down the corridor. ‘Perhaps he had a good weekend. Speaking of which…’ She turned to Kate, but Kate, anticipating her next question, had moved briskly away, picking up a pile of folders and retreating to her office where she closed the door firmly behind her.

  She knew, however, there could be no avoiding Natalie for ever, just as she knew that once Natalie got her teeth into something she wasn’t inclined to let go until she had all the details. The moment came at the end of the shift as Kate was walking to the car park. Hearing a shout, she turned and saw Natalie running to catch her up.

  Fully expecting her friend to launch into a full-scale interrogation, she braced herself.

  ‘I’ve just been talking to Michelle
Steane from Special Care,’ said Natalie, and Kate relaxed a little. ‘Apparently little Timothy Perren is in trouble.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Kate frowned. ‘Dee was so happy when she went down to see him. What’s the problem, did Michelle say?’

  ‘Respiratory problems apparently,’ Natalie replied. ‘Serious enough for them to call Reverend Collard in to baptise him.’

  ‘Oh, I hope he pulls through,’ said Kate. ‘Poor little love, he’s had enough drama in his life already, what with making his debut in the back of an ambulance.’

  ‘Well, he has a first-class team looking after him down there on SCBU—just like his mum had on Matty,’ said Natalie. As they reached their cars, which were parked alongside each other, she said, ‘So, are you going to tell me or not?’

  ‘Tell you what?’ Kate smiled.

  ‘You know what,’ Natalie retorted. ‘You saw Tom Fielding again at the weekend, didn’t you?’

  ‘You make it sound like a date!’ protested Kate.

  ‘Well, it might have been,’ said Natalie. ‘You’re being evasive enough about it.’

  ‘I can assure you it wasn’t a date.’ Kate hesitated, wondering just how much she should tell Natalie, for although she was a good friend she did go overboard rather if she thought there was a chance at matchmaking.

  ‘So what was it? Go on, tell me, otherwise I really will start to think there was more to it.’

  ‘He phoned,’ Kate said, trying to make it sound as casual as possible, which of course it was. It was only someone like Natalie who could possibly read anything into it. ‘On Saturday morning.’

  ‘Really?’ Natalie was obviously intrigued. ‘Go on.’

  ‘He invited us—me and the children—over to his house.’

  ‘To lunch, you mean?’

  ‘Sort of.’ Kate nodded. ‘He said he was going to barbeque some food and he wondered if the children would like to use his pool. It was so hot on Saturday and—’

  ‘His pool!’ Natalie stared at her. ‘He has a swimming pool?’

  ‘Well, yes…’

  ‘Where does he live? What’s his house like?’

  ‘He lives over at Lower Melbury and his house is very nice,’ Kate replied patiently. ‘We had a lovely time and the kids all enjoyed themselves. Now, if you don’t mind, Nat, I really must get on. I have shopping to do before I go home.’