‘What were the treatment options?’
‘They told her that she needed palliative surgery to remove the larger tumours, palliative pain treatment and an immediate chemotherapy. So we would have to abort the baby if we wanted Hannah to have a chance to live.’
Tasha stared in horror. She’d thought his life had been a breeze. Had imagined that the golden-haired, blue-eyed boy from her youth had just sailed through his life pain-free.
Imagine him being faced with that news. Knowing that even whilst his wife’s body was being riddled by a killer disease it had still created the miracle of life.
‘What did you do?’
‘I told her I’d support her choice. That we could always have another baby, but I couldn’t have another her. That I wanted her to fight it and to live as long as she could. The idea of losing her...’
He ran his hands through his hair and sank down against the school wall until he was crouched by her feet.
Tasha sat down next to him, empathising with the pain he must have gone through. The joy and the ecstasy of discovering he was going to be a parent and then the crashing diagnosis of his wife’s cancer. The knowledge that if they wanted her to live they would have to kill. To go against all they held dear.
‘She’d always wanted to be a mum. After being a doctor that was her dream. And she believed in the Hippocratic Oath so much—about not doing harm—that she couldn’t terminate our child. So she chose to defer treatment until after the baby was born.’
Tasha didn’t know what to say, so she reached out to lay her hand on his, grasping his fingers and giving them a squeeze. ‘Oh, Quinn...’
‘I didn’t know what to feel. The fact that she was putting off chemo, putting herself at risk, made me angry beyond belief... But then I thought of that baby inside her, who had found a way to live and survive in a body that was under assault from a deadly disease. I wanted our child—of course I did—but I wanted her more. I also knew it was her body. Her life. And at the end of the day it had to be her decision.’
‘It must have been terrible for you both.’
‘They operated to remove one of the larger tumours, but when they opened her up they could see it was hopeless. She tried to keep as much of her pain from me as she could...pretended she was okay so she could give our son the best chance at life.’
‘It was a boy?’
He nodded. ‘But the cancer was too aggressive and she went into multiple organ failure at twenty-one weeks. They kept her going on a life support machine for a few hours, but then her parents and I decided to turn it off. They delivered our little boy, but...’ He swallowed. ‘He wasn’t strong enough to survive.’
Tears were dripping from her eyes, just from trying to imagine his pain and grief. She’d got him so wrong. She’d never imagined this pain, this grief, for him. Once again she had spun a fantasy of sunshine and rainbows regarding his life, believing everything had been golden for him.
‘I’m so sorry. Truly, I am.’
‘I held him in my arms, against my chest. Kangaroo care, they call it. You hear those stories of babies who are dying somehow coming back to life after a parent does that. I hoped for the same. But it was a vain hope. He was tiny. So fragile I thought he would break! His little hands...his fingers so small! He barely weighed anything. I sat in a chair with him on me and felt his every breath. Including the last one.’
He reached for his wallet and pulled out a photo, passed it to her.
It was well-worn. Obviously it had been held a lot. Looked at a lot. And there she saw Quinn, sitting in a chair, his shirt open, his tiny son—no bigger than his hand—resting against his chest. His son wore a tiny knitted bonnet in a pale blue. Quinn was cradling him. Holding him so gently. His face full of grief and despair.
She’d seen faces like that before. The faces of Maddie’s parents. The faces of all those family members she had delivered bad news to.
She watched as tears trickled down his face and then she laid her head against his shoulder, giving him the time he needed.
He had not been afraid to share those emotions with her. She was proud of him for that. For sharing them with her.
She heard him sniff, felt him wipe his face, and then he turned to look at her.
‘I’ve lost someone I love. I’ve watched my child die. Felt it. It was the most horrific thing in the world. I sat there, concentrating on each breath that he struggled to make, begging him to just take one more. To keep on. To fight through. And it was selfish! I wanted him to carry on, because I didn’t want to face the future without him! I knew that I’d be the one to fall to pieces, because watching a child die—it tears you in two. I mean it. It’s pain unlike any other.’
She knew. She knew! Should she tell him? Should she just get it all out in the open? The way he had opened up to her?
He carried on talking. ‘I said those things earlier because...because I’ve been there. I’ve been the person by the bedside. I’ve been the one holding the hand of the one I love, watching the last few breaths ebb from exhausted lungs, and you don’t want to see that. You don’t! It’s horrible and it takes ages to get past it—weeks, months, years! The thought of you having to go through that... It almost destroyed me. I left everything to come and work on a hospital ship on the other side of the world because it was the only thing that didn’t remind me of home. I’m trying to protect you by saying you need to take a step back. Because—believe me, Tasha—you don’t want to witness the death of a child. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to help you through it.’
She looked at him now, her face pale, the shadows under her eyes dark. ‘You think Abeje’s going to die?’
He gave her a look that told her he didn’t know. ‘Malaria is a killer—I know that. I’m doing everything to save her, but I’m warning you that I might not be able to.’
She laid her head against his broad shoulder again, comforted by the feel of him next to her. ‘Thank you for telling me what happened. I know it must have taken a lot for you to tell me.’
‘I care about you. Maybe too much. It’s muddling my thinking.’
‘And I care about you.’
She swallowed hard, thinking about what he’d just said. ‘I care about you. Maybe too much.’
Well, if he cared about her then he deserved to hear the whole truth. No matter how painful. She had to tell him. She had to! Even if he then saw her for what she truly was. A failed doctor.
‘You can’t protect me from something that’s already happened,’ she whispered.
He shifted to look at her better. He was frowning. Not understanding. ‘What?’
‘I didn’t just watch a child die, Quinn.’ She looked down at the ground. Away from him. Away from any judgement she might see in her eyes. ‘I killed one.’
* * *
Quinn blinked. Once. Twice. A third time. Still he couldn’t stop looking at her face. Her tear-stained, red-eyed face.
She’d killed a child?
No! That can’t be! She has to be wrong!
‘What do you mean?’
She gave a shake of her head and then got to her feet, wiping the dust from the back of her skirt.
He got up too, rubbed his eyes and then stood, hands on hips, waiting for her to explain. She couldn’t have killed a child! She wouldn’t be allowed to be a teacher, for a start.
She turned to face him, eyes red.
‘I’ve only been a teacher for a couple of years. I implied that I’d had a variety of jobs after leaving school before doing my teacher training, but that was a lie. I lied to you.’
She’d lied? Only people with something to hide lied.
‘But you’re telling me the truth now?’
‘Yes.’
He believed her. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he did.
‘I’m listening.’
He could
n’t imagine harming someone. He was a doctor! He healed. He tried to make things better. Taking a life...? He couldn’t imagine how that must feel, even though he’d contemplated it to save his wife. But he hadn’t had to go through with it. Neither of them had. They had fought for life.
‘I went to medical school.’
Tasha smiled at him. A sorry smile. A sorry-I-lied-to-you smile. Short. Brief. Sad.
‘I trained to become a doctor. It was all I’d ever wanted to do after meeting you. After falling in love with you when I was just thirteen and hearing the way you talked about how you were going to change people’s lives...’
Her voice almost trickled into a whisper.
‘You did?’
He couldn’t believe it! A doctor? Tasha?
‘I wanted my life to change. Back then I wasn’t living, Quinn. I was just existing. I had no idea of what to do and no one steering me in any direction. I thought I’d probably end up in some dead-end job, but then Dexter brought you into my world and you talked about all the wonderful things you were going to accomplish as a doctor—delivering babies, saving lives, transplanting hearts, living with a purpose! I wanted that for myself. You made it sound so good. So valuable and important. And I loved you so much I thought you might notice me if I wanted the same things as you.’
He was blown away. ‘Tasha, I—’
‘It’s okay. We were just kids. You never understood how I felt about you. How could you? You’d never experienced my world. You’d never been without love.’
He looked down at the ground, realising just how terrible her life must have been. He hadn’t ever thought about it. He’d just been a stupid kid with a stupid ego and he’d almost ruined her life because of it.
‘I qualified. I took the oath. I began practising in a large hospital. It was hard. Exhausting. Night after night on call, in an understaffed department, unable to get a toilet break or even to eat sometimes. Some nights I survived on coffee. But I carried on because I knew that what I was doing was noble and worthwhile. And suddenly, for the first time in my life, I felt important. Valued. Wanted. Needed.’
‘You were always important,’ he said.
‘I didn’t know that back then. Like you said, we were kids.’
‘What happened?’
He almost didn’t want to hear, knowing that as soon as he did her words might make him think less of her. He didn’t want to feel that way.
But he knew junior doctors screwed up sometimes. She was right. They were overworked and exhausted sometimes. But they got through it—because if they didn’t then people died.
‘It was a night shift, and I was the doctor on call. I’d worked two days straight, with barely any sleep, and I’d been beeped to this girl—Maddie—a couple of times already. She had pneumonia, and her SATs kept going really low and she would struggle to breathe, but every time I got to her and gave her some treatment she recovered. Then there was a huge input of casualties into A&E, and I was called to tend to a pregnant woman who was threatening to deliver after abdominal trauma.’
Quinn swallowed, imagining her fear of having to treat that pregnant woman.
‘As I rushed to A&E my beeper went off again for Maddie. I stood there in the corridor, staring at it, trying to make a judgement call. The pregnant lady? Or Maddie? Two lives? Or one? I knew Maddie had kept on recovering with the treatment I’d ordered previously, so I called in my instructions for Maddie and chose to go to A&E.’
‘I would have made the same choice.’
She gave that smile again. Quick. Brief. A thank-you.
‘I was in A&E for a good two hours. The time went so quickly—you know what it’s like when you’ve got to think fast, make immediate decisions, do everything at a running pace?’
He nodded.
‘I delivered the baby. It was a boy, and he went up to SCBU until his mum could come out of Theatre. I headed up to Paediatrics to see Maddie as soon as I could, but...’
She faltered, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks.
‘Maddie was in respiratory arrest. They’d been paging me but I couldn’t answer them. They were frantically trying to get her back. They were doing CPR when I arrived on the ward. I pushed the nurse out of the way to do it myself. I was completely shocked that she’d deteriorated so quickly. Had I missed the signs? Had I misdiagnosed her earlier? Given the wrong treatment? I felt her ribs break. Puncturing lungs that were already damaged and filled with fluid.’
Tasha began to cry with heaving sobs, hiccupping her way through the story.
‘I couldn’t get her back! I tried! I tried everything. But she just slipped away! She died because of me. I had to tell her parents that I’d done my best, but had I?’
‘Tasha...’
‘I walked out of the hospital that night. After I’d told the parents their little girl was dead I walked out. I didn’t go back. I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t be put in that position again, where I had to make a choice over who lived and who died. Who was I to decide such things?’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Tash. It sounds like you did everything you could.’
‘You weren’t there! How could you know?’
‘Because I know you. Because I know what it’s like in a hospital when you’re on call. I’ve listened to every word you’ve just said and I know it’s the truth. Because I’ve seen inside your heart and there’s not one shred of darkness there. You did your best. You were put in an impossible position to choose between two lives and I would have done the same as you.’
‘But she died, Quinn. Because of me.’
He took her hands in his and pulled her close, hugged her against his chest. ‘No. Not because of you.’
She sobbed against his chest. Hot, wet tears soaked into his shirt and he hated it that she was feeling so much pain. All this time he’d been trying to protect her from such devastation but she’d already been through it. And she felt responsible!
He knew that kind of guilt all too well. He’d questioned every decision he’d made after Hannah and his son had died. Especially when Hannah’s parents had blamed him for not healing her. For not making a better-informed decision. For not forcing her to have a termination so she could have had the cancer treatment more quickly.
He’d almost been torn apart by guilt, and he’d found himself in a very dark place after the funeral.
Now he understood why Tasha cared so much. Now he understood why she had such a strong attachment to Abeje. It was love. Plain and simple. She had adopted this child in her heart and she was now being faced with losing her if she didn’t do the right thing.
‘You did everything right,’ he murmured, stroking her hair. ‘You did everything right.’
Soon her crying stopped. Became just gentle sniffs. And they stood there holding one another, leaning on each other for support.
But it was more than just physical strength. It was emotional strength, too.
She needed him.
And I need her.
* * *
He’d had to leave her at the school. She had lessons to teach that afternoon and he needed to come back to work, too.
He stood at the end of Abeje’s bed, wondering why she wasn’t getting better. Why it was taking so long.
Am I just being impatient? Or am I afraid of the pressure I feel to cure her?
Tasha had completely sideswiped him with her confession. She’d been a doctor. A doctor! All this time she’d been on the hospital ship and not said a word. He hated it that she’d kept things from him. Such important things, too. Hiding her pain the way Hannah had. They’d talked about their pasts and he’d hoped that she’d feel she could tell him the truth.
Like I told her everything?
No wonder he hadn’t had to explain anything medical to her. All those times she’d sounded knowledgeable, explaining it as internet research.
Most friends or family members of patients wanted the doctors to explain the treatments and the medications—what they were, what they did—but she hadn’t. Because she knew already.
And she was carrying around that guilt born from the death of a child, even though it sounded as if she’d made the right call and done all she could.
But he knew how exhaustion felt when you were just a registrar. Those long hours with barely any sleep or proper nutrition. Soldiering on because you had to...because there was no one else to do it.
How many nights had he stayed up trying to find cures for Hannah? How many medical trials had he hunted down, trying to extend her life?
He’d been there. All doctors had been there. And it was awful.
No wonder she was worrying about Abeje so much. She knew what could go wrong! She knew that it was taking a long time to see improvement. When she sat by Abeje’s bedside did she see Maddie’s face? Was that what was scaring her?
But the thing that frightened him most was that he could see a lot of Hannah in Tasha. They were both the same. Both trying to give a child the chance of life more than anything else, even to their own detriment. How many nights had Tasha sat by Abeje’s bed without food or rest for herself?
Rob came over. He looked weary, too, and handed Quinn a chart for him to sign off on some medication.
‘The two kids from Mosa are doing well. They managed some real food earlier.’
‘That’s good,’ Quinn said, staring at Abeje and wondering why she wasn’t recovering just as quickly.
She was so little. Smaller than the others. Perhaps her immune system wasn’t as strong? What if there was something else going on in her system?
‘I’d like another round of bloods taken for Abeje, Rob. A full work-up. Everything.’
‘Sure thing. I’ll get right on it.’
‘And I’d like a full scan done. Just to check that there’s nothing else going on that’s preventing her recovery.’
‘Okay, I’ll schedule it.’
All children were precious. But the pressure to save Abeje was high. Higher than it had ever been. He would do everything in his power to save her—to stop Tasha having to lose another precious little girl. A girl she saw herself in.
A Child to Heal Them Page 11