Page 22 of Broken Heart Syndrome
Bill’s breathing made it difficult, but he still managed his usual cheek. ‘No, son, it’s the … ladies I’ve got … waiting on me … hand and foot. Not often a man at my age … is surrounded by … beautiful … women.’
Tom sat by the bed, still smiling. ‘Can we talk about that pacemaker now? I think it’ll improve things for you.’
Bill’s eyes slid away. ‘Let me think on it some more, doc,’ he said evasively.
Tom sighed, ‘Okay, Bill. Meanwhile we’ll titrate up the meds.’
‘Whatever you say, doc,’ Bill said, still avoiding Tom’s gaze. Tom was good with the patients, he explained things well, he was kind, but he was aggressive clinically.
Bill had been his patient for a long time now. It was obvious Tom was fond of him and wanted him around for a good long while to come. It was also obvious that I needed to have my own chat with Bill, one that didn’t involve him flirting with me to try and change the subject.
Tom ran his hands through his hair, which I knew was a sign that he was frustrated. Therefore it was with very bad timing that we moved to the next patient.
‘Mr Taylor,’ I began. ‘Thirty-five. Admitted with ST elevation MI. Stented left main stem. Type one diabetic, smokes ten a day, family history ischemic heart disease –’ Steve, a.k.a. Mr Taylor, cut me off.
‘Hey, beautiful,’ he said, smiling at me.
‘Hey, Steve,’ I said. ‘We’re just going to go through what happened, then sort you out, okay?’
‘Whatever you say, darling – and you can sort me out any time.’
I had admitted Steve yesterday, stabilized him and prepared him for the emergency angiogram. I knew that he was absolutely terrified, and any flirting he was engaging in now was bravado to cover his fear.
‘You’ll be okay you know,’ I continued softly, moving to his side and laying my hand over his. ‘Everything went fine yesterday.’ He held my eyes for a beat and I saw the relief wash over his features.
‘Thanks, Frankie,’ he whispered, his eyes sliding to the side, likely out of embarrassment that I had spotted his fear.
Tom had been studying the notes whilst listening to our exchange, but was now staring at my hand over Steve’s. His body had gone very still. I looked down at his hands holding the notes and noticed that his knuckles were white. Once I withdrew my hand his eyes snapped to Steve’s.
‘Jesus Christ, mate,’ he said abruptly. ‘Have you got a death wish?’
‘W-w-what?’ Steve stuttered, his pale face rigid with the fear that was back with a vengeance.
‘Smoking? Seriously? With type one diabetes and a family history of cardiac disease? You are either stupid, insane or you have a death wish. Which is it?’ As Tom continued his tirade Steve’s eyes filled with tears and his lips started trembling.
At this point, I was done.
I pulled in a breath, spun round to face Tom, steeled myself, and looked straight into his eyes.
‘Dr Longley, can I have a word?’ My tone was firm, which was a first when it came to Tom, and I was shocking even myself. But my anger in that moment was overriding my shyness.
Tom jerked in surprise, and looked bewildered as I pushed him out of the cubicle with a hand to his chest. Once outside the curtain, I turned on my heel and swept out of the ward into the corridor without another word, Tom hot on my heels. As soon as we cleared the double doors I spun around to face him.
‘What the hell was that?’ I semi-shouted.
‘What?’ he asked, looking stunned at my outburst.
‘You’ve scared him out of his mind. You can’t talk to patients like that.’
‘He needed a wake-up call, Frankie.’
‘I think,Tom–’ he narrowed his eyes at my use of his Christian name ‘– he has already had a bloody wake-up call in the form of aheart attack.He is absolutely terrified and there’s no need to be so mean. You nearly made him pee his pants in there. Be mean to me if you have to, but don’t ever be mean to your patients.’
‘Mean to you?’ He was back to confused. My anger was slowly receding, and I was beginning to come back to the reality of the situation. Here I was, standing in a hallway, shouting at my boss and glaring straight into his eyes.
Jeepers. I abruptly broke eye contact and looked at the floor, sucking in an unsteady breath.
‘No,’ Tom said softly, ‘No way, Frankie. You cannot give me your eyes and throw attitude at me and then take it away. I’ll be mean to every sodding patient we have if it means you’ll actually look at me.’
