Page 15 of The Night Shift
‘This is true,’ said Violet. ‘Sorry about that. But Ihavebeen working on my communication skills as regards other healthcare professionals. I can’t be expected to do it all in one day.’
His mouth cracked into a smile at this, revealing a glint of broken teeth. Violet considered herself to have scored a minor victory.
‘But your bloods aren’t great,’ she said.
He nodded, serious again. ‘So, Iamdying?’
‘Well, we’realldying,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘From the moment we’re born, we’re dying.’
‘You’re a right little ray of festive sunshine, aren’t you?’ He barked his dry laugh. ‘You know what I mean, Doctor. Don’t mess about.’
Violet nodded. ‘I do understand the question, yes. But it’s like last night, I can’t give you a definitive answer. We don’t even really know what’s wrong with you yet. We’ll need to do several further tests before we can confirm a diagnosis.’
‘Tests?’ His voice was wary.
‘Yes. Scans, likely an ultrasound and a CT scan, in the noisy tunnel, you know.’
He nodded. ‘What else?’
‘Maybe an endoscopy. A little camera on a tube, either down your throat, or…’
‘Up me arse? Speaking of noisy tunnels.’
She nodded. ‘Maybe both. Top and tail. Although not at the same time.’
He winced. ‘Well, I guess I should be thankful for small mercies.’ His eyelids fluttered as he took in the information. ‘And what’ll they be looking for then, with these cameras? Cancer?’
‘Mainly. We do endoscopies for other reasons but I think in your case that’s what we’d be trying to exclude.’
‘And if they do find a cancer? Or loads of the bloody stuff? What happens then?’
‘Maybe an operation.’
‘Well…’ He sucked on his lower row of dentures. ‘I can’t see as I’d want to bother with all that. Cutting me open? Never needed nothing like that before. And I suppose you’d be wanting to pump loads of poison into my veins as well?’
‘If you mean chemotherapy, that could be a treatment option, yes.’
There was a pause before he spoke again. ‘And hows about if I didn’t want any of that stuff?’
Violet nodded. ‘Nobody’s going to force you into anything, Mr Zeller. It’s your body.’ As she said this she was aware of how many times in the space of her short career she’d seen people undergo procedures with a very slim chance of success, procedures that most doctors wouldn’t put themselves through. Patients not having treatment physically forced upon them but going along with investigations because they thought they should, because the doctors said, ‘Maybe this might work,’ and families said, ‘Definitely– let the doctors do what they need to, Dad.’Patients persuaded to take hefty doses of multiple medications in order to prevent a heart attack in the next twenty years, when they were already ninety-seven and might prefer a heart attack to a few more decades of frailty and deterioration.
‘To be honest, Mr Zeller,’ she said, ‘we’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves here and I don’t really like talking about hypothetical situations. Why don’t we take this one step at a time? I can see that your scan has been requested. You might even have it later today. Then we’ll know more, and we can have a think about what happens next.’
Mr Zeller gave a little ‘hmmph’ which Violet took to be acquiescence. He still didn’t look terribly reassured, but she wasn’t sure whether it was her job to reassure him. She thought she might have one last attempt. ‘Nobody can operate on you or do anything to you without your consent, Mr Zeller,’ she said. ‘That would be assault.’
He struggled up onto his elbows and glared at her.
‘I just know I don’t want nobody leaping about on me chest and electrocuting me if I die,’ he said, suddenly vehement. ‘That’s what happened to my Magda and she never woke up after. She’d already been in hospital for weeks, getting thinner and thinner, all the life gone out of her. And she said to me, just before, “Jakub”, she said, “I don’t want this anymore. I want it to be over. I want to go home.” Except I never got her home, did I.’ His voice caught in his throat. ‘Her heart stopped and instead of leaving her in peace they leapt all over her, pummelled her about for twenty minutes, packed me off to some nasty little room instead of letting me stay and hold her hand like she would’ve wanted…’
Violet had the horrible feeling that he might be about to cry. She wasn’t good with tearful patients, never knew what to do with herself. Often, she’d simply stare at the floor until they’d finished and then carry on talking as if nothing had happened. ‘Do you, uhm, do you want some water?’ she said.
He gave her a scathing look. ‘Water? What would I want bloody water for?’
‘I don’t know,’ Violet admitted. ‘It’s just something people say, isn’t it? When someone’s upset or whatever… I– uhm– of course, you’re right. Why would you want a glass of water. Sorry. Carry on.’
He shook his head and she thought she might be able to see a tiny smile playing on his lips. ‘I don’t need to carry on,’ he said eventually. ‘You don’t need to know any of this. Don’t know why I mentioned it really. I just felt like I let her down, my Magda. Should’ve stood my ground and told them doctors that she wouldn’t have wanted all that fuss and nonsense and what did they think they were playing at.’
‘You didn’t let her down,’ said Violet, although she had no particular evidence to confirm this assertion. ‘I’m sure you were a wonderful husband and that you supported her as best you could, or, uhm, whatever. Come along now. Magda wouldn’t have wanted you to feel like this.’ She patted in the general direction of Mr Zeller’s left foot, feeling confident that this was a strong concluding statement.
