by Sarah Morgan
‘And he’s not gay?’
Georgie recalled the hardened probe of Ben’s body as he’d held her close. ‘Er … no, very definitely not gay.’
Rhiannon inspected her crimson-painted fingernails for a moment. ‘You know, Georgie, we could always call off the anti-dating deal, if that’s what you want.’
Georgie stared at her. ‘Have you found someone?’ she asked.
‘Of course not!’ Rhiannon said, flushing slightly. ‘I just thought we should have thought about the possibility that someone truly decent might come along and if we didn’t respond to their interest we might miss out on our only chance at happiness.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ Georgie said, releasing another little sigh. ‘But so far I haven’t met anyone I want to spend the rest of the year with, let alone the rest of my life.’
‘You have to spend a year with this Ben Blackwood guy though, don’t you?’
Georgie gave a groan. ‘Don’t remind me.’
Rhiannon just smiled.
Georgie was just coming out of the gym at seven-fifty-nine the next morning when her mobile phoned beeped, indicating an incoming message. She checked the screen and saw that she had a missed call from A and E. She quickly called the number and the registrar on duty answered. ‘Dr Willoughby, we’ve got an MVA down here. Two victims, husband and wife, both middle-aged. The husband’s got some bumps and bruises, but I think the wife’s got an extradural. She had a GCS of 12 on arrival, with equal pupils, but she’s gone off to GCS 9 over a matter of minutes and her left pupil’s blown up. Can you get down here now and look at her?’
‘I’m on my way, Drew,’ she said. ‘Can you get Anaesthetics down now? I’ll phone Theatre on my mobile while I’m coming down.’
‘Right.’
Georgie raced to her car and, pushing aside all thoughts of Madame Celestia’s predictions, drove with care but haste to the hospital.
When she arrived in A and E, Drew Yaxley, the registrar, quickly filled her in on the patients’ conditions.
‘The wife’s pulse and BP have just hit the floor, Dr Willoughby. The anaesthetics registrar has intubated her. The general surgical registrar is just about through the secondary survey now but it looks like it’s pretty much an isolated head injury. Husband’s got minor general surgical trauma—no neuro injury.’
Georgie came over to where a middle-aged blonde woman was lying on the emergency trolley, intubated, with Kevin Chase, the general surgical registrar, completing his examination.
‘Georgie, this looks like a neuro emergency,’ Kevin informed her. ‘She’s got a clinical left skull fracture, and very little else. ABCs were pretty good when she got here, but her GCS went off in front of my eyes when I was doing the primary survey, and she’s blown up her left pupil. They were equal when she first got here. Jane has intubated her, but she’s become bradycardic and hypotensive. I’m pretty sure she’s got an extradural.’
‘Dr Willoughby, if this is an extradural, you’re going to have to do something now,’ Jane said, looking stressed as the beeps on the ECG showed a slowing pulse, now down to 40. ‘She’ll arrest before we get her anywhere near Theatre, let alone CT.’
Georgie examined the patient, noting the boggy haematoma over the left scalp, the dilated left pupil, the hypotension and bradycardia. ‘Are you sure she’s not hypovolaemic, Kevin? Are there other injuries?’ she asked.
‘A bit of bruising, but nothing serious, Dr Willoughby. Like I said, she seems to have an isolated left head injury. The ambos said the car ran into a tree on her side.’
‘Georgie, if you can do anything here, you’d better do it now. Her pulse is 25 and no BP,’ Jane said.
‘Kevin, get Ben Blackwood on the phone, tell him what’s happening and ask him to come in straight away. Tell him I’m doing an emergency burr-hole in A and E. Drew, get your staff to bring the emergency neuro tray, gown and gloves.’ She turned to the hovering nurse and instructed, ‘Get me some gloves, goggles and a couple of razors to shave the scalp.’
Quickly Georgie turned the woman’s head to the right a little and shaved the left scalp. While nursing staff opened up the emergency neuro tray, she quickly gowned and gloved and injected 1 percent xylocaine with adrenaline into the scalp over the left parietal region. She then prepped the scalp with Betadine and used a section drape to isolate the area. She made a 5 cm incision over the scalp down to the periosteum and inserted a self-retaining retractor. She then took the hand-brace with attached skull bit and started drilling into bone at the site of the now visible skull fracture.
Georgie could feel her skin breaking out in fine beads of perspiration, her tension levels rocketing second by second as she concentrated on the boring. After two or three minutes the centre of the bit breached the inner layer of the skull. She continued to drill for a few more turns to enlarge the hole and then removed the brace. From the hole in the centre of the conical skull defect she had created, fresh arterial blood rapidly flowed out under pressure. She took bone nibblers and enlarged the burr-hole, from which at least 100 ml fresh blood emerged under pressure, slowing to a continuous ooze and revealing the depressed dura underneath.
‘You’ve certainly done something, Dr Willoughby,’ Jane said. ‘Her pulse has come up to 100 and her BP’s now recordable at least.’
Just then the emergency room doors burst open as Ben came in.
‘Dr Willoughby, what the hell’s going on in here? What the hell are you doing, drilling burr-holes in A and E?’ he asked.
Georgie refused to be put off by his overbearing manner. She had done what she had done in the best interests of keeping the patient alive, and so far her actions had worked. ‘She was about to arrest, Mr Blackwood,’ she said a little coolly. ‘She would never have survived a CAT scan or the transfer to Theatre.’
‘She’s right, Ben,’ Jane said. ‘Dr Willoughby had to do something there and then or we would have lost the patient. As it is, there’s been an instant rebound in her parameters. At least now you’ve got a live patient to take to Theatre, thanks to your registrar.’
Ben inspected the patient over Georgie’s shoulder, his body touching hers from behind. ‘It’s very uncommon to have to do burr-holes this urgently. But it looks like a good call in this case, Georgie,’ he said after a momentary pause. ‘That’s a decent-looking emergency burr-hole, too. Have you ever done one before?’
‘The first burr-hole I’ve done was in my first theatre list with you two days ago,’ Georgie replied, stepping away from the heat of his body.
‘Well done, then. That was not only a good call but a brave piece of rare emergency neurosurgery,’ he said. Turning to Jane, he asked, ‘How are her obs now, Jane?’
‘Pulse 100 and BP now 120 over 90. A vast improvement. Her left pupil has come down a bit, but it’s still dilated,’ Jane answered.
‘Georgie, you need to put a suction drain over the burr-hole and staple the scalp closed, get the wound dressed, and get a CT stat so we know what else we’re dealing with, then straight up to Theatre,’ Ben instructed.
‘Theatre’s ready—I called them half an hour ago—and CT has been cleared and is waiting for us,’ Georgie informed him, still glowing inside from his unexpected praise.
‘Well, then, there’s nothing left for me to do here. Seems you pretty well have things under control. I’ll go and get changed and come down to CT in fifteen minutes. When we take her to Theatre, I want you to do the decompressing flap and I’ll assist.’
Georgie opened her mouth to say she wasn’t ready to be the primary surgeon but he’d already pushed through the swing doors.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Jane said as she cleared away the used instruments. ‘You have to start somewhere, and you’ve done a good job so far.’
‘Thanks,’ Georgie said with a weak smile.
She accompanied the patient a short time later to CT Scanning and once the scans were done Ben came in to look at them. He stood at Georgie’s shoulder as he inspected each one, now a
nd again brushing against her with his arm as he lifted it to place another scan on the X-ray board. She could smell his lemony aftershave and her gaze drifted to his tanned forearm, the sleeves of his shirt rolled back casually, the dusting of black hair making her skin lift in a tiny shiver as she thought about those arms touching her flesh.
‘What do you think the scans show?’ he asked as the last one was illuminated.
Georgie moistened her lips and began, ‘Um … she’s got a depressed left skull fracture and still some extradural clot despite the burr-hole … And there’s underlying cerebral contusion.’
‘Yeah, I agree. So where do we go from here?’
She stared at the scan until it blurred in front of her eyes. ‘She needs the rest of that clot evacuated,’ she said.
She waited for him to respond but when she sent her gaze towards him he was looking at the first scan again, a frown drawing his dark brows together.
‘Was this the driver?’ he asked.
‘No, the husband was.’
He looked down at her, still frowning. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive,’ she answered. ‘It’s in the notes.’
He looked back at the scan and rubbed at his chin for a moment. ‘What sort of car was it?’ he asked. ‘Modern? Fitted with airbags, do you know?’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ she said. ‘Why? Do you think there’s something fishy about this?’
He turned to look at her again, the frown now smoothed out. ‘If there is, no doubt the police will sort it out. But I would prefer it if you didn’t mention this to anyone until we have the accident investigation angle on things. Let’s get her down to Theatre and clean out that clot.’
After they had scrubbed Ben assisted Georgie through the procedure, raising a temporo-parietal flap, sucking out the residual haematoma and inserting an intracranial pressure monitor.
Even though she was incredibly nervous, Georgie could see why Ben had a reputation for being calm and in control during surgery. He stood by her side, speaking only when necessary and in an encouraging tone in spite of how they had left each other’s company the previous evening.
Whenever she met his gaze she felt again the incredible intimacy of working with him in Theatre. The only part of his face she could see was his dark blue eyes, their silent message of reassurance one that made her anger towards him soften around the edges.
He was clearly far too professional to bring petty personal issues into Theatre where patients relied on his skill and dedication. The patient came first and always would, which was something she wouldn’t dream of arguing with.
Finally the last staple was in and the patient was transferred to neurosurgical ICU for post-operative monitoring.
‘Good job, Georgie,’ Ben said as he stripped off his gloves and tossed them in the bin. ‘Do you fancy a quick coffee before you hit the ward?’
Georgie searched his face to see if he was mocking her but as far as she could tell his offer seemed genuine. She couldn’t, however, help the slip of her gaze to his pelvis, for the first time wondering if the hot liquid had burned him. She decided against asking him in front of the theatre staff, who were cleaning up behind them, and instead moved through to the female change rooms after telling him she would meet him in his office in five minutes.
She pushed open the doors of the change room and came face to face with a woman in her early forties who was dressed in theatre gear.
‘Hello, Georgiana,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Madeleine Brothers, Associate Professor of Neurosurgery. I’ve been waiting for you to come to my office and introduce yourself to me.’
Georgie did her best to ignore the hint of censure in the woman’s tone and offered her hand. ‘Hello, Professor Brothers. I’m sorry but I’ve had a bit of a hectic start to my term. You were next on my list.’
Madeleine briefly shook her hand and gave her a smile that Georgie couldn’t help feeling was a little forced. ‘How are you getting along with Ben Blackwood?’ she asked.
Georgie’s tiny hesitation in replying was obviously noted by the older woman, who arched one thin brow speculatively.
‘Fine. He’s seems … er … very competent.’
‘He is,’ Madeleine said. ‘But, then, he was trained by one of the best—your father.’
‘You worked with my father?’ Georgie asked.
Madeleine nodded. ‘Before I came here I worked at one of the private hospitals your father operated at twice weekly. How is he enjoying being a man of leisure?’
‘Like most doctors, he’s finding it hard to fill in all the spare time he now has,’ Georgie said.
‘He could always do a locum in the country or overseas,’ Madeleine said. ‘It seems a shame to deprive the community of all that talent when he’s still perfectly capable of working, even if for fewer hours.’
Georgie decided to see if what Ben had said about her father the night before had any substance to it. ‘Did you enjoy working with my father?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I did,’ Madeleine answered without hesitation. ‘He was a hard taskmaster certainly, and he didn’t suffer fools gladly. But he was a damned good neurosurgeon. I learned a lot from him. I’ll always be immensely grateful. He was the one who encouraged me to pursue an academic career. I would never have published as many research papers as I have without his support and direction.’
‘I’ve heard it said he was difficult to work with.’
‘Who isn’t on a bad day?’ Madeleine said. ‘Even the notoriously easygoing Ben Blackwood can be like a bear with a sore head if someone rubs him up the wrong way.’
Georgie’s mouth formed a little moue. ‘Yes, I have sort of noticed that.’
Madeleine moved closer, her voice lowering slightly. ‘Look, Georgiana, I know you’ll probably think I’m speaking out of turn but I wouldn’t want to see you jeopardise your first neurosurgical term here by having an improper relationship with a senior colleague.’
Georgie looked at the older woman in surprise. ‘Surely a relationship between two unattached adults is not considered improper?’
‘No, you’re right. Perhaps I could have rephrased that a little better. But I think I should warn you Ben is still getting over a rather nasty break-up,’ Madeleine said. Stretching her lips into another tight little smile, she added, ‘I wouldn’t like to see the daughter of a man I admire very much get hurt.’
Georgie wondered if Madeleine Brothers’s concern had an entirely different motive. She was after all only five or six years older than Ben and as far as she’d heard not married. ‘Thank you for your warning me,’ she said. ‘But I can assure you I have no intention of getting involved with Mr Blackwood.’
‘Good,’ Madeleine said, as she moved past her to push open the door. ‘That would indeed be very wise. He’s a bit of a heartbreaker is our Ben. Enjoy your stay with us, Georgiana. No doubt I’ll see you in my theatre soon.’
Georgie didn’t get the chance to answer as the door swung shut in her face. She turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror. ‘Heartbreaker, is he?’ she said out loud. ‘Well, not with me, Mr Break-your-heart Blackwood.’
CHAPTER NINE
BEN was on the phone when Georgie knocked on his office door and he called out for her to come in before continuing his conversation with the person on the line. ‘I told you it’s fine, Mum,’ he said. ‘I haven’t got any commitments this weekend. I’m not on call and the weather’s going to be good so just relax and enjoy yourselves.’
Georgie felt a little uncomfortable listening in on what was clearly a private family conversation. She stood shifting from one foot to the other, pretending an interest in the books on the shelves running alongside his desk.
‘If it will make you feel a little better, I’ll rustle up some female company for Hannah in case she gets sick of her boring older brother,’ he said. ‘Shopping is not exactly my strong point but I’m sure I can find someone who will show her where all the best shops are.’
Georgi
e felt the point between her shoulder blades begin to prickle as if his dark blue gaze had centred there. She reached for a heavy textbook on emergency neurosurgery and flicked through the step-by-step diagrams.
‘Right, then,’ he said. ‘That’s settled. I’ll be at the station to meet her at seven on Friday evening. And for pity’s sake stop worrying. It’s about time you and Jack got some time to yourselves.’ There was a little pause and he added affectionately, ‘Love you, too.’
‘Sorry about that,’ he said to Georgie as he flipped his mobile shut. ‘My mother is having cold feet about leaving me in charge of my little sister in the big bad city of Sydney.’
‘I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job of chaperoning her,’ Georgie offered. ‘Is she … er, a bit of a rebel or something?’
‘No, she’s not a rebel. She’s more of an extrovert. All mouth, if you know what I mean.’
‘If you want some help over the weekend I’d be happy to help,’ she said on an impulse she could neither explain nor retract in time. ‘I mean … with shopping and stuff … that’s if you haven’t got anyone else to call on …’
He sat back in his chair, his expression thoughtful as his eyes caught and held hers. ‘That’s rather generous of you, considering how we spoke to each other last night,’ he commented wryly.
Georgie gave him a shamefaced look. ‘I’m really sorry about the coffee incident,’ she said. ‘I could have scalded your … er … you.’ She moistened her dry lips and added tentatively, ‘Are you … urn … all right?’
His eyes began to twinkle. ‘My abdomen was pretty red last night, not blistered, though, probably just first degree. Why don’t you give me the once-over and see for yourself?’
Her face erupted with heat and so too did her lower body at the thought of examining him intimately. She had seen plenty of male bodies in the nine years of her training but somehow she suspected his would be something else entirely. She wouldn’t have a hope of maintaining clinical distance—she was having a hard enough time reminding herself he was her superior.
‘I thought women of your generation didn’t know how to blush,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘You have examined men’s groins before, I take it?’