Page 24 of Beg, Borrow or Steal
‘Why me?’ Libby had asked, annoyed that the training meant she had to turn up an hour early for her shift once a week. He’d made a disgusted noise and thrown his hands up in the air.
‘You knowexactlywhat men think when they look at you,’ he’d growled, and she’d blinked in confusion. ‘You can’t believe that the no make-up elastic-band bird’s-nest hairstyle and hobo clothes disguise any of this –,’ and he’d swept his hand from her face and up and down her body in an annoyed jerky movement. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s annoying, but you have a responsibility to that little girl of yours to learn how to protect yourself.’
Libby had grumbled and been a pain in Barry’s arse, but she was going to kiss Barry right on the lips the next time she saw him.
Before The Terminator could pull her any closer she twisted one of her arms free, grabbed two of his fingers and pulled them backwards until he squealed. She was so intent on her mission and so angry that she didn’t notice the entire emergency department fall silent and turn in their direction.
‘Pay attention, Big Guy,’ she said, pulling his fingers even further back and causing him to shout out again. ‘I can make a man twice your size cry like a baby. You can either shut up and keep your hands to yourself whilst I clean up your cut, or I can snap your fingers in half, sedate you andthenclean up your cut before I buddy-strap your broken digits. Choice is yours, Hutt Spawn.’
‘Okay, okay,’ he panted, writhing on the bed in pain. ‘I’ll shut the fuck up.’
‘And … ?’ Libby snapped, not letting up on her grip.
‘Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry, okay?’ he squeaked out in desperation. Libby released his hand, turned back to the trolley and picked up some more chlorhexidine-soaked gauze. He flinched when she applied it to the torn flesh again but kept his mouth firmly shut and his hands to himself.
She finished quickly and found the registrar responsible for the patient gaping at her from the central island. Kira was standing next to him with a huge smile on her face.
‘I’m no lesbian,’ Kira announced, and any eyes that hadn’t been watching Libby after the commotion turned to her friend at that statement. ‘But evenIfound the whole Xena, Warrior Princess-thing you had going on vaguely arousing.’
Libby rolled her eyes. ‘Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be with the urology team?’
‘I’ve saved enough willies for one morning,’ Kira said breezily. ‘I’m here to bring you lunch.’
‘Uh, thanks but The Terminator has agreed to let me stitch him up.’ Libby turned to face the registrar, who had been watching the exchange between the two women like some sort of tennis match. ‘Would you mind, Dr Ford? Supervising, I mean?’
He blinked and snapped his mouth shut before swallowing and nodding his head with a little too much enthusiasm. Kira nudged him lightly with her hip. ‘You might want to be more careful with patient allocation,’ she said, her tone light but an edge creeping into her voice. ‘Not sure the supervising consultant would have been too pleased if that had gone a different way. Libby should not have been allowed to see him without a chaperone.’
‘Right,’ the registrar said, pushing away from his half-finished paperwork and rounding the desk to stand in front of Libby. ‘Of course. Let’s go. I’ll teach you to suture.’
Libby looked across the department and caught sight of a red-faced Toby covered in baby vomit and dealing with an irate mother. She smiled across at him, waved the suture pack in the air (he would hate the fact she was getting that experience under her belt) and followed the registrar back to The Terminator.
*****
‘That’s great!’ the registrar said in amazement. Libby stood back and admired her sutures. They were small, neat, and the skin was aligned perfectly.
‘I practice on oranges,’ she told him proudly.
‘Well, it’s paid off. Took me ages to be able to suture that neatly. Maybe you should think about a surgical career.’
Libby smiled and shrugged. Surgery was not for her. All she’d ever wanted to do was be a paediatrician. A shrill ringing cut through the conversation just as she was about to answer, and the registrar frowned before turning towards the red phone on the wall next to them. After he picked it up his frown intensified. When he’d taken down some details he replaced the handset and started barking out orders.
He pointed to the nurse in charge saying: ‘Trauma team.’ Then started towards Resus. Libby wasn’t sure whether to follow or not, but he paused mid-stride and turned back to her. ‘Come on,’ he told her. ‘Great learning opportunity.’
In Resus the registrar briefed the team as they got ready. ‘Male, twenty-two, MVA, facial injuries, bilateral fractures.’ Everyone started putting on the heavy lead gowns, which had their position in bold letters on the back: EMERGENCY DOCTOR / NURSE / RADIOGRAPHER / ORTHOPAEDIC SURGEON. Libby was handed one with MEDICAL STUDENT on it. As she looked around at the others her eyes went wide when she realized that the man donning the ANESTHETIST gown was Jamie. She hadn’t even noticed him arrive.
Everything was a flurry of activity for a minute or two whilst trays were prepared and equipment made ready, then they all fell still. Nervous anticipation filled the air as the team stood almost in suspended animation, waiting for the patient to arrive. Libby glanced over at Jamie, colliding with his hazel eyes for a moment before he looked away; his jaw was clenched and a muscle was jumping in his cheek. She found herself thinking that this silence was like the quiet before a Tsunami, almost eerie.
Then everything changed.
Men and women in red suits with AIR AMBULANCE emblazoned across the back pushed a patient on a trolley quickly through the department, bringing him into the Resus cubicle they were all assembled in. The paramedic in charge started talking through the history whilst the team moved as one to start working on the patient.
Clothes were cut off. Intravenous lines inserted. Jamie moved to secure the airway.
‘Why is his GCS so low?’ the ED consultant asked. GCS stands for Glasgow Coma Scale – a score below 8 means you are unconscious. The patient had an obviously broken leg and facial injuries, but that wouldn’t necessarily mean he would have lost consciousness; if it was the head injury causing it, it was a bad sign – bleeding into the brain and swelling could both be responsible.
Toby had pushed his way in and managed to get a cannula into the man’s arm. After he did it, in typical Toby style, he stood back and raised his arm, shouting, ‘Access here, guys. I’ve got the i.v. access.’ Everyone ignored him, seeing as the patient had two other wide-bore cannulas already secured.
Libby was not pushy, and she was gradually shunted into the background. But in all the activity and through the bodies in front of her, she caught sight of a metal bracelet on the patient’s arm and squinted at it. The jewellery seemed incongruous with the rest of his attire. She darted around the registrar to get a better look and her eyes went wide. She swallowed, tamped down her shyness and straightened her shoulders.
