Page 18 of Prognosis Do Over

‘How long has he been in for?’

‘Two months,’ she said, and smiled at the little boy as he gave her a gappy grin.

‘Cute,’ he said.

Lou looked at him, startled. Did he mean her or Terry? He held her gaze with an amused look.

‘Do you think we can get this round started now? Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee have been holding up that wall for half an hour. They’re getting in Lydia’s way.’

Will looked over to where Lou had indicated with her head. Two of his med students, with white coats and matching glasses, had propped themselves against a wall in the corridor and were drumming their fingers.

Will chuckled. ‘Sorry ‘bout that. I’m surprised she didn’t give them something to do.’

‘Are you kidding? They don’t look much older than babies themselves,’ she said.

Will laughed again, and indicated that she lead the way.

She handed Terry to Lydia, who kept the ward running while Lou went round with Will and his band of merry followers. The ward held thirty beds, and was rarely under capacity. It was a general paeds ward in a busy Brisbane inner-city general hospital, and therefore catered to all ages from birth to sixteen, and all conditions, medical and surgical.

Just over half of Ward Two’s patients were under Will’s care. One quarter were surgical, and under various surgeons, and the other quarter were under different private paediatricians. Today’s round was particularly lengthy as this was the first time Will had met any of the patients, and he wanted to hear a complete history from his junior doctors.

Despite having a zillion other things she could be doing, with only one month left until she handed over to Lydia, Lou patiently followed them around. She knew that Will was just being thorough, and that subsequent rounds would be nowhere near as tedious.

Brian Billham, Will’s resident, did most of the histories with Will, who stopped him occasionally to confirm things with Lou or ask her a question or opinion. Will was a doctor who recognised and respected input from the nursing side of things, and understood they were valuable members of a multi-disciplinary team.

Unfortunately, Lou had to contradict Brian a couple of times, and hoped it was just because the young doctor was nervous rather than incompetent.

Will also used the round to test the calibre of his minions, as Lydia called them. He bombarded his juniors with questions, teaching without conscious effort as he went. Lou could feel the vibe in the group. It was always dynamic working with Will, and she felt sorry on a professional level that she was leaving soon.

By the time they got to Terry, Lou had a page of notes to pass on to the appropriate staff members. Things to check on, tests to organise, referrals to chase. She had a busy morning ahead. Normally on a day shift Lou did four hours’ clinical in the morning and four hours’ management, depending on staff levels and skill mix. With Lydia on today and good staffing she should definitely be able to retire to her office a little later.

‘Twelve-month-old Terry,’ said Brian, flipping open a reasonably thick chart for such a young child.

Terry, who had been grizzling in his cot, stopped the minute he spied Lou amongst the coats and gave her a grin. Lou let down the side and hauled him out as she listened to Brian’s background story.

Will watched them intently. The little boy stuck his thumb in his mouth and snuggled into Lou’s chest, just as Candy used to do. Terry pulled his thumb out and placed his hand against a breast. He squished it innocently as he jiggled around like a baby monkey, and then decided to play with the top button of her polo shirt.

Will’s gaze lingered on Lou’s chest. What had been a very generous C-cup had swelled considerably since the last time he’d seen her — thanks, no doubt, to the pregnancy. He wondered absently whether Lou was going to breastfeed, and then realised he hadn’t heard a word that Brian had been saying.

He tuned back in for a moment, but was instantly distracted again as Terry propped one plastered leg on top of her bump and swung the other one lazily against her side. He looked in baby heaven, oblivious to the discussion about his feet. And Lou looked the epitome of maternal, gazing at the floor as she unconsciously rubbed her cheek through his hair and swayed back and forth with Terry on her hip.

‘Callum and Tristan,’ he said, addressing the med students, suppressing the urge to use Lou’s most apt nicknames, ‘who can tell me about talipes?’

‘There are four types,’ said Callum, jumping in eagerly. ‘This patient —’

‘Terry,’ interrupted Will. Doctors who didn’t know their patients had names other than their conditions had always irritated him. Best to get it through to them young.

‘Terry...’ Callum faltered ‘Has the most common type, talipes equinovarus, also known as club foot. It’s often associated with other deformities, but this...Terry’s...seems to fall into the idiopathic bracket.’

Lou smiled to herself. She loved the medical euphemism for don’t-have-a-clue.

‘Like to add anything, Tristan?’ Will asked.

‘Terry’s foot is typical of most cases of equinovarus,’ said Tristan. ‘The front parts of his feet are turned in and down, giving them a kidney bean shape. Both ankle joints are quite stiff, and he has atrophy of his calf muscles, which is also typical.’

‘What happens if we leave it uncorrected?’ Will shot back.

‘The patient...Terry,’ said Callum, ‘will be unable to mobilise.’

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