Page 40 of Prognosis So Done

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - 2100 HOURS

‘Burr holes for probableextradural haematoma,’ said Gill,

putting down the phone. ‘It’s on its way over.’

The chatter about the newly named baby died down. It had been exciting for everyone after a decade of dealing in trauma and hatred and death, to be a part of life, to celebrate the beginning of life for a change. But they still had work to do.

Harriet went out to the room behind the theatre and put a tray of neuro instruments into the clunky old steriliser. The organisation operated on a shoe string budget and, as such made do with many things that wouldn’t be tolerated in a modern hospital setting.

The steriliser being a classic example.

It used steam and heat to disinfect surgical instruments with two shelves for instrument trays. Pop them in, shut the door, turn the wheel to seal the unit, turn it on and a few minutes at maximum heat and pressure and, bingo! Sterile instruments.

It wasn’t the most up-to-date equipment but it did the job.

The important thing to remember was to release the pressure

valve and not to open the heavy door until the pressure had

come back down to zero. Her student nurse days had been filled

with horror stories about nurses who had been killed by heavy

pressurised doors blowing out and hitting them square in the

chest.

Between that and watching the graphic film Hospitals Don’t

Burn Downthat all students had to watch, Harriet had seen

hazards around every corner. As long as she lived she’d never

forget the scene where the nurse opened the linen chute on the

top floor and the fire, which had started in the bowels of the

hospital, tunnelled up the chute, killing her instantly.

Harriet shuddered, thinking about it now as she shut off

the pressure valve. She supposed it had achieved its aim — fire

awareness. She’d always been really vigilant for potential fire sources. She’d even received an award at their end-of-training dinner for the nurse most likely to single-handedly evacuate an entire hospital in the case of fire.

She had laughed and graciously accepted the beat-up old

trophy someone had found at the dump of a fireman carrying a person in his arms. But deep down she’d hoped that her mettle would never be tested.

Even at home in their Bondi unit she had insisted that they have a fire extinguisher, smoke detectors in every room and a fire blanket in the kitchen. Gill had always teased her, calling her his very own fire warden.

He’d even bought her a fireman’s hat for Christmas one year, although, as she’d found out, it had had little to do with fire and everything to do with wanting her to wear it to bed and indulge in a little role playing. That hadn’t worked for her but on him...now, that had definitely worked!

Harriet blinked as she realised where her thoughts were heading and roused herself from the past. She removed the tray from the steriliser, using a long-handled, angled instrument

designed exactly for the job, and took care not to contaminate

any of the instruments. Placing the tray down on a sterile towel she had laid out, she waited a couple of minutes for the steam to evaporate and for the instruments to cool off.

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