Page 55 of Prognosis So Done

His embryo. His baby. And he could do nothing to save this life. Nothing.

Suddenly he had flashes back to Nimuk’s mother. Her abject

misery as she had handed Nimuk over, knowing he was dying and knowing there was nothing she could do about it. He remembered her powerless, felt it acutely right now as he delved inside his wife’s body and tried to save her life.

‘What’s her pressure?’ he demanded.

‘Holding at eighty. She’s had two lots of colloid and just

finishing her second bag of O.’

He had to stop the bleeding. ‘Bladder retractor.’

Katya handed him the instrument and he placed it, anchoring it on the pubic bone. She also handed him a self-retaining abdominal retractor and he placed that, giving him a good view. He inserted moist towels to absorb the remaining blood and pack off the bowel and omentum from the operative field.

He located the Fallopian tube and his heart sank. “Fuck,” he said quietly, behind his mask as he placed two clamps on the destroyed Fallopian tube between the uterus and where the ectopic had erupted, instantly stemming the haemorrhage.

In a theatre where the atmosphere was so tense that no one even dared breathe, the quiet expletive was loud.

‘What?’ asked Katya, crowding him to get a closer look.

She repeated his expletive in her mother tongue and stepped away. Glancing at her, Gill could see that Katya also knew he had no hope of repairing the tube. He doubted whether the most

skilled gynae microsurgeon could have done anything with it.

He had promised Harriet he’d try, but there was no way anything could be done.

The clock ticked loudly in the silent room. Everyone waited

for Gill’s next move. After a minute Joan said gently, ‘We know you’d repair it if you could, Gill. There’s not a surgeon in this world that could save that tube.’

‘It’s her only one,’ he said, raising anguished eyes to Joan. ‘She wants a baby. I promised her.’

‘No,’ said Katya, opening Gill’s hand and slapping a scalpel into it. ‘You promised her you’d try, and I promised her to keep you to it. And if I thought there was any chance, I would. But there’s nothing you can do. Cut it, Gill, and get on with the op.’

He’d never felt more out of depth in his life. It wasn’t

something he was used to feeling in an operating theatre. Here

he was in control. Always. He looked at Joan.

‘Katya is right. She’s lost a lot of blood, Gill. Don’t

prolong the stress to Harriet’s system. There are other ways to get pregnant.’

Gill nodded, knowing they were right but hating himself for what he was about to do. This was why there was a rule about operating on relations. He was the one who was going to have to face the music for what he was about to do.

And she was going to hate him for it.

He hesitated briefly before slicing through the tubal

pedicle between the two clamps he’d applied earlier. And that

was it. There was no going back now.

It was done.

Pushing all thoughts of Harriet’s reaction aside, he got on with the job - there was still more work to do. He ligated the artery and then ligated the end of the pedicle. Before he could remove the tube completely, he had to divide part of the broad ligament that attached along the length of the tube which he did until the tube was finally free.

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