One Night in Emergency

‘It’s settling. Just a few more to be patched up and sent home.’

‘Good lass.’ Mary nodded. ‘Save cubicle one for me, mind. I’ll come and see him when I’m done in here. If you could just find Vicki for me and ask her to come in, that would be grand.’

‘We’re nearly there.’ Pier gave a tired smile as Eleanor came out. ‘I must have a drink or you’ll be treating me for a faint. Vicki said to sort out our breaks between us—do you want to go first?’

‘You go,’ Eleanor offered, knowing Pier was just being polite. ‘I’ll just finish up here.’

‘There’s nothing to do.’ Pier shrugged. ‘Everything is under control. Mary said to leave cubicle one for her—he just needs some strapping and a tetanus injection, which I’ve already pulled up. Agnes is just sleeping it off in between asking for bedpans and the toddler in cubicle two just needs the doctor to listen to his chest now that his nebuliser is finished, then hopefully his parents can take him home.’

‘Then go.’ Eleanor grinned. ‘Even I can manage that lot.’

It felt strange, being left alone in the department. Not that she was really alone, there were a few patients still around, a few doctors writing their notes up at the desk and the rest of the staff were bobbing in and out of various cubicles. But, standing at the nurses’ station, Eleanor couldn’t help but feel a bit smugly important, as well as nervous in case anything should come flying through the doors and she would, temporarily at least, be the one to deal with it.

‘How much longer will he have to wait?’ A ruddy-faced rugby player popped his head around the curtain and Eleanor made her way over, pulling out the casualty card from the clipboard.

‘Shouldn’t be long.’ Eleanor peered at the card. ‘He just needs some strapping and a tetanus shot.’

She expected an argument, after all she was just standing there, but instead the man disappeared behind the curtain and Eleanor listened with increasing impatience as the drunken guffaws got louder.

‘How long will the doctor be?’ The father of the toddler in cubicle two came over, a worried frown on his face, and Eleanor gave a sympathetic smile.

‘Not too much longer. It has to be a registrar or consultant that discharges Marcus, and unfortunately they’re both stuck in Resus at the moment. They know that you’re waiting, though.’

‘Fair enough.’ He gave a tired shrug. ‘He’s just getting upset with all the noise, you know.’ He nodded pointedly towards cubicle one.

‘I do know,’ Eleanor said grimly. She was about to tell him it shouldn’t be much longer again, about to run with the usual spiel, but Pier’s words had struck a chord.

Then be a good nurse.

Mary was just trying to share the workload by telling them to save cubicle one for her. Eleanor could just picture the scathing look if she came out of Resus and saw her standing at the nurses’ station, twiddling her thumbs when there was still work to be done. Well, she’d learnt her lesson the hard way with Rita. By the time Mary came out, there wouldn’t be a patient in the department and she’d have started cleaning the trolleys. Picking up the kidney dish with the tetanus shot in it, she smiled at Marcus’s father. ‘Leave it to me.’

Breezing into the cubicle, she shot her most withering stare at the five men standing around the trolley. ‘Would you mind keeping the noise down, guys? We’ve got a young child next door and your noise is upsetting him.’

‘Sorry!’ The sarcastic response from the ruddy-faced man Eleanor could deal with, but when the other hangers-on started wolf-whistling Eleanor began to understand why Mary might have dealt with it better. But just as she started to wonder if perhaps she should leave the job to Mary after all, she found a rather surprising ally in her patient.

‘Cut it out, guys.’ His voice was deep and firm and brought an instant response, his five teammates instantly cutting the wisecracks and offering their apologies. For the first time Eleanor looked at her patient.

Then looked again!

For the past couple of hours she’d remained indifferent to the sight of six-foot-four, thick-necked, broken-nosed rugby players, but only a general anaesthetic could have rendered her indifferent to this one.

He was so huge that he made the gurney look like it belonged in the paediatric bay, yet there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his solid frame that was way too big for the white hospital gown that stretched over his wide chest, blond tousled hair framed a rugged face and somehow he even managed to make the customary broken nose look endearing, but, then, one couldn’t linger too long on his broken nose when navy eyes were attempting to focus. ‘Sorry about this,’ he said, gesturing to his raucous friends. ‘They’re getting bored.’

‘Which would be understandable if they were two years old,’ Eleanor replied crisply, determined not to let him see he was having the remotest effect on her. But her bossy nurse routine only delighted the crowd, the cat calls starting up again, growing ever louder, the whistles more piercing as Eleanor’s blush darkened. But when little Marcus in the next cubicle started crying again, Eleanor’s patience finally snapped. ‘Right, you can all wait outside while I fix up…’ She glanced at the casualty card. ‘Mr Hunter.’

‘Rory,’ her patient offered, but Eleanor wasn’t really listening. In best assertive nurse mode she shooed the last of the stragglers in the vague direction of the waiting room.

‘I thought Mary was going to come and patch me up,’ Rory ventured once they were alone.

‘Sister Byrne is busy with a sick patient in Resus,’ Eleanor answered crisply, ‘so you’ll have to make do with me.’

‘That’s fine,’ he responded easily. ‘And you are?’

‘Sister Lewis.’

He was squinting at the name badge hanging around her neck, or at least Eleanor hoped that was what he was attempting to focus on.

‘Do you have a first name?’

‘Sister Lewis will do just fine,’ Eleanor replied firmly. ‘Now, you’ve already been stitched up.’ Peering at the notes, she put them down before turning to her patient. ‘It’s the left thigh, isn’t it?’

‘I hope so, given that’s the one they stitched.’ Lifting his gown, he pulled back the dressing before, annoyingly—extremely annoyingly, in fact—reaching over to the silver trolley beside the gurney and helping himself to a wad of gauze.

‘Please, don’t.’ Eleanor shook her head. ‘The trolleys are sterile.’

‘Really?’ He gave her a slightly nonplussed look and Eleanor was forced to relent somewhat. ‘Well, they’re clean and I’m supposed to restock them soon. It doesn’t make things easy when the patients help themselves.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ It didn’t, but it was far easier to be bossy, far easier to be slightly cross, than focus on his thighs—very nice thighs, too, Eleanor thought reluctantly, extremely muscular, blond-haired thighs that needed to be strapped.

‘I’ll need to shave you.’

‘Sorry?’ There was no question that he was apologising this time and, clearing her suddenly dry throat, Eleanor forced a brisk smile.

‘The doctor wants your thigh strapped,’ Eleanor explained patiently. ‘Because you’re so, er, muscular he wants the sutures to have some support for a couple of days. That’s why he wants you to have crutches as well…’

‘But why do you want to shave me?’

‘I don’t want to,’ Eleanor corrected. ‘I have to. Believe me…’ Echoing Mary’s words, she flashed an efficient smile and said, ‘You’ll thank me for my foresight once the strapping comes off.’

‘I’ll look like a zebra,’ Rory moaned. ‘I read that hair grows back thicker and darker once you shave it.’

The grumbling smile he flashed at her wasn’t making this any easier.

‘Utter rubbish,’ Eleanor scoffed, while feeling horribly guilty.

‘It’s true. I read it in a magazine—a women’s magazine,’ he added, as if it might make a scrap of difference.

‘Well, if you’d read on, the magazine would undoubtedly have told you that the down side to waxing is sheer agony, which is what you’ll get when the sticky plaster comes off if I don’t shave you first. Wait there,’ Eleanor added, fleeing for the safety of the stock cupboard and trying to even out her breathing as she located fresh heads for the clippers.

She could do this, Eleanor told herself firmly. Gorgeous men with massive hairy thighs were part and parcel of Emergency, so she’d better just buckle down and get used to coping with it.

‘Right!’ Pulling the curtain back, she marched in with the clippers.

‘Right,’ Rory responded glumly, as Eleanor swallowed hard and turned on the clippers, hoping his inebriated state would mean that he wouldn’t notice her shaking hands.

‘How much are you taking off?’ Rory asked with a slight note of panic.

‘Well, you need your thigh strapped,’ Eleanor pointed out, ‘not a small sticky plaster.’ But despite her best efforts, the bossy nurse routine was getting harder and harder to keep. Despite his friends, Rory Hunter had been the perfect patient and Eleanor relented with an apologetic shrug. ‘I’m really sorry about all this,’ she mumbled. ‘It really will grow back quickly.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘And itch like hell, too, no doubt.’

‘Then I’m glad I’m not a woman.’ Rory grinned. ‘Must be hell, doing this every week.’

Eleanor laughed, really laughed. ‘Well, generally we’re not quite so hairy…’ Her voice trailed off as his navy eyes attempted to meet hers, the room impossibly hot all of a sudden as the conversation tiptoed into dangerous territory.

‘Roll over and I’ll do the back,’ Eleanor responded quickly.

He did as he was told. In fact, he was the model patient, lying quietly as Eleanor dressed the large cut and then strapped his thigh securely. ‘Not too tight?’ she checked, and he shook his head. He even lifted the sleeve of his gown without asking as she approached with his tetanus shot.

‘Your arm might be a bit sore for a couple of days.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Right.’ Happy with her work, Eleanor measured him for his crutches. ‘Do you need a hand to get dressed?’ she offered, praying he’d say no.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘And I’ll need a deposit for the crutches,’ Eleanor added, smiling up from the notes she was writing. ‘Ten dollars.’

‘I haven’t got my wallet with me.’ Rory patted his pockets. ‘Maybe it fell out on the minibus.’

‘Well, we need a deposit,’ Eleanor said firmly, determined to retain a professional upper hand. ‘It’s a safety guard to ensure that people bring the equipment back that we loan. Perhaps one of your friends might be able to lend it to you.’

‘It’s OK, I’ve found it.’ Balancing on one foot, he tried to pull his wallet out of his jeans and Eleanor made a mental note that next time she asked a disabled patient for the deposit it might be better to do it when they were lying down for, as it turned out, balancing on crutches and trying to locate his wallet in the back of his jeans wasn’t the easiest feat. Eleanor knew if she didn’t intervene he’d be back in Theatre, having his scalp stitched.

‘Let me help you.’

‘I’ll manage.’

‘No, really.’ Ducking behind him, she gave an almost imperceptible cough as she dipped her hand into his pocket and pulled out the offending article, handing it to him and feeling awful as he flipped it open, a single ten-dollar note the only cash he had on him.

‘How much is in there?’ Rory asked, squinting down.

‘Ten dollars,’ Eleanor gulped.

‘Then take it.’

‘How will you get home?’

‘One of my friends will have some cash.’ If she’d looked up she’d have seen a twitch of a smile on his lips. ‘If not, I only live a couple of kilometres away. I’m sure I’ll soon get used to the crutches.’

‘Maybe you should just keep the money,’ Eleanor offered. ‘You can bring it in tomorrow or something.’

‘Won’t you get into trouble?’

‘Probably,’ Eleanor admitted, ‘but I can’t just let you hobble out of here with no means of getting home.’

‘Taxis take credit cards now, Sister Lewis.’ His face broke into a grin and Eleanor knew then he’d been teasing her. ‘I’m sure I’ll make it home in one piece.’

‘Very funny,’ Eleanor retorted. Gorgeous he might be, but Rory Hunter had just used up his last strike on Eleanor’s sympathy card. ‘Now, if you go out to Reception they’ll happily call you and your friends a taxi.’

‘I was actually hoping to catch up with—’

‘Out that way,’ Eleanor broke in, pointing to the exit sign. ‘You might even be lucky and find a taxi out there already.’

‘Well, thank you.’ Carefully he moved one of his crutches to the other side and offered his hand. ‘You were very, er, efficient.’

‘All part of the service.’ Her blush was coming back now. Seeing Rory Hunter dressed and standing and with his hand closing around hers, any hope of remembering he was a patient was fast fading. ‘I’d better get on.’ Gesturing to the exit once again, she turned back to her notes, only letting out a long-held breath when he finally hobbled out.

Right.

Surveying the mess her patient had created, Eleanor headed off to get a linen skip and returned to the cubicle just as Mary appeared, sweeping back the curtain with a bright smile.

‘Finally, Rory!’ Her smile faded as she eyed the mess. ‘Where’s Mr Hunter?’

‘I strapped him up and sent him home.’

‘He’s gone?’

Eleanor nodded nervously. ‘In a taxi. I moved him on quickly, just like you said.’

‘And what’s all the hair doing on the trolley?’

‘I shaved him.’ Mary’s direct glare wasn’t doing much for her confidence. ‘As you said to do,’ she croaked, ‘so it didn’t hurt when the strapping came off.’

‘But this was a thigh injury,’ Mary snarled. ‘You put a piece of stocking over the thigh and then you strap it.’

‘Oh.’

‘What’s this?’ Picking up the ten-dollar note clipped to the casualty card, she held it up, her accusing glare ever fiercer.

‘The deposit for his crutches. I gave him a receipt and everything. He assured me that he’d bring them back.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he will.’ Mary sucked in her breath for a long moment before she carried on talking. ‘In fact, I’d suggest you could even be seeing your crutches as early as tomorrow night.’

‘Tomorrow night?’ Again Eleanor had no idea what Mary was talking about. ‘I thought they went to their GP for review and suture removal.’

‘Well, that’s the norm, of course,’ Mary agreed with a small nod. ‘But for staff we make exceptions.’

‘Staff?’

‘Some might call it a perk,’ Mary rattled on, ignoring Eleanor’s question. ‘Not much of a perk, though. But we look after our own in Emergency. When staff or a member of their family is brought in to the department, it’s an unspoken rule that the most senior staff look after them. You just broke that rule, Sister.’

‘But I had no idea he was staff,’ Eleanor said faintly. ‘He never said.’

‘Why did you think I asked you to leave him for me?’

Eleanor swallowed hard. ‘To share the workload?’

‘Do you not think I work hard enough?’ Mary asked as Eleanor screwed her eyes closed, every word she uttered seeming to make this horrible situation worse. ‘Did you think that by strapping a thigh and giving a tetanus shot, I’d somehow be showing that I was worth my salt?’

‘Of course not.’

‘You did remember to give him his tetanus shot, I presume?’

‘Yes,’ Eleanor whispered.

‘Good!’ Mary responded crisply. ‘It would be a terrible thing if the consultant of the department came down with tetanus because one of his own staff forgot to give him his jab…’

‘The consultant!’

‘I’m back.’ Pier breezed into the cubicle, refreshed from his break, his smile fading as he saw Eleanor’s paling face. ‘Sorry, am I disturbing something?’

‘Not at all, Pier,’ Mary responded. ‘In fact, we were just finishing.’

‘Mr Hunter has already gone?’ Pier asked, a curious smile on his face as he eyed the trolley littered with dark blond hairs.

‘Minus ten dollars and some body hair,’ Mary said. ‘Sister Lewis here took it upon herself to treat him. Not only treat him—she practically threw him out of the department into a waiting taxi.’

‘I don’t understand…’ Pier’s voice trailed off and Eleanor waited, waited for an explosion, for that Irish temper to ignite, but, as she was about to find out, not only didn’t she know the first thing about Emergency nursing, she didn’t know the first thing about emergency nurses’ sense of humour. Instead, she watched in stunned confusion as Mary Byrne threw her head back and laughed, followed a moment later by Pier.

And they didn’t just laugh, they roared.

Roared till the tears were falling down their cheeks. And every time Eleanor thought it was over, thought her torture might have ended, they’d catch sight of the trolley and start to roar again.

‘It’s not funny, you two,’ Eleanor finally snapped, protocol thrown to the wind, close to tears now and wishing the night would just end.

‘Oh, but it is, my dear,’ Mary sobbed, wiping her eyes with one hand as she held her aching side with the other. ‘We’ll feast on this for weeks!’

CHAPTER TWO

SO MUCH for patient confidentiality.

Rory Hunter’s injuries and treatment became seemingly the sole topic of conversation for the entire hospital.

At least it felt that way for Eleanor as she stumbled through her week on nights. Every ward she took a patient to, she was sure the nurses were nudging each other. Even the cleaners seemed to be smiling as they quietly mopped the long lonely night corridors as Eleanor made her way back. But as hard as the nights were, nothing was going to compare to facing the man himself and it took a good deal of foundation and a lot of deep breaths to arrive at the nurses’ station for handover the following Monday.

‘You’ll be working the trolleys,’ Mary instructed. ‘Anything you don’t understand, you ask me, not the nurse who happens to be passing, not the doctor who looks approachable. You ask me. Until you feel confident to make decisions for yourself, I’m the one you run things by.’

‘Fine.’ Eleanor nodded, her hackles immediately rising. She was tired of Mary constantly talking down to her and treating her like a child that needed to be told everything not just twice but very loudly, too.

‘Good. Now, in cubicle eight is an Emily Nugent. She’s ninety-four with end-stage COAD. What does that stand for?’

‘Chronic obstructive airways disease,’ Eleanor answered with a slight edge to her voice. She may not be the most experienced of nurses but she wasn’t a complete hick and it was time Mary stopped treating her like one. Taking a deep breath first, Eleanor looked the older woman straight in the eye. ‘I’m not a student, Mary, I’m not even a grad nurse. I’m a registered nurse and I did do some nursing before I came to Melbourne Central. We do have COAD patients in the country.’

‘Do you, now?’

‘Yes,’ Eleanor replied curtly.

‘Well, as I said, Miss Nugent is end stage. Now, she’s been seen by the medical registrar and she’s not for any active treatment and definitely not for any heroics. You’ll not be offended if I ask you to confirm you know what that means.’

‘She’s not to be resuscitated,’ Eleanor responded, ignoring Mary’s sarcasm and still trying to look her in the eye but it was getting increasingly hard.

‘Correct. Now, that might seem like a very basic question, but the fact is, unlike the wards, all patients who come through our doors are resuscitated unless it’s documented otherwise, and the last thing poor Miss Nugent needs is a bunch of over-zealous doctors jumping on her ninety-four-year-old chest. Now, we’re to make her comfortable while the bed manager tries to find a bed for her on the wards.’

‘Does she have family with her?’ Eleanor asked as they headed for cubicle eight.

‘She has no one, so our job…’ Mary paused outside the curtain, opened her mouth as if to speak then instead gave a small nod. ‘In we go.’

Eleanor’s jury was still out on her feelings for Mary Byrne the woman, but if ever Eleanor made it into an emergency room at the grand old age of ninety-four she hoped there would be an equivalent of Mary Byrne there to look after her. For though Eleanor had looked after a few terminal patients, though she had worked alongside a lot of nurses, no one held a candle to the way Mary gently fussed over the frail elderly woman, chatting softly to Emily as if they were old friends as they turned her onto her other side to relieve the pressure from her emaciated hips, gently stroking her forehead as the old lady whimpered in pain.

‘It’s OK, Miss Nugent,’ Eleanor said softly. ‘I know it’s uncomfortable while we move you, but you’ll feel a lot more comfortable once we’ve settled you.’

A tiny nod indicated a response and as a frail thin hand peeped out from under the sheet, Eleanor took it and gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘Do you have any pain, Miss Nugent?’

Another nod was punctuated by a grimace. ‘Em.’

‘You like to be called Em?’ Eleanor checked, stroking the frail skin beneath her fingers. ‘Then that’s what we’ll call you. My name’s Eleanor.’

‘Give her hair a brush,’ Mary instructed, rummaging through Emily’s bag and pulling out a brush. ‘While I go and find someone to check…’ She paused for a moment, taking the brush herself and running it through the straggly hair. ‘Miss Nugent, I mean Em,’ she said softly into the elderly women’s ear, ‘Sister and I are just going to get you some medicine that will make you more comfortable.’

Eleanor almost had to run to keep up with Mary’s brisk strides, but she was walking on air, thrilled that far from the dressing down she had expected Mary finally seemed to be coming around.

‘OK, you need to use your swipe card to gain access,’ Mary instructed needlessly. Eleanor had checked plenty of drugs in her week in Emergency, just not the controlled ones, but Mary, it would seem, couldn’t pass up any chance for a quick lecture. ‘And it pays to look over your shoulder before you go in—there can be a few undesirables hanging around just waiting to get in here.’ A loud tut came out of her pursed lips as they pushed open the door and stepped inside. ‘For the love of God! Would you believe that her medical registrar has written in his notes that he wants her to have morphine, yet he hasn’t written up an order?’

‘Do you want me to page him,’ Eleanor offered, but Mary shook her head.

‘He’ll be starting his ward round now, it will be ages till he comes back down.’ She shook her head again. ‘I’ll have to ask one of our doctors to do it, which isn’t really fair on them, given Miss Nugent’s status. They’ll need to examine her and go through all the notes, which will take for ever. Oh, poor Miss Nugent.’ As she pulled open the drug-room door Eleanor went to follow, but instead ducked back in as Mary’s tone took on a distinctly friendlier note. ‘Rory! The very man who can help.’

‘What’s the problem?’

Eleanor heard him before she saw him, cringing behind the door as Mary patiently explained the problem. ‘The med reg will be doing his rounds and the poor lady’s in distress. I don’t want her to be prodded and poked just for the sake of it.’

Eleanor had rather hoped her next glimpse of him would have been from a safe distance, that somehow she could have blushed unnoticed from afar, but instead six feet four of dark-suited, heavily aftershaved, damp-haired, masculine beauty squeezed himself into the drug room and gave her the briefest of nods.

‘Good morning, Sister.’

‘Morning,’ Eleanor croaked.

‘Could I see the notes, please?’

Her hand was shaking so much as she passed them to him, she was practically fanning him, but Rory didn’t seem to notice, taking them with a murmur of thanks and then reading them through carefully. If he’d looked gorgeous in jeans and a T-shirt, he looked divine in a suit, those sexy dark blond curls combed back smoothly now, and first impressions clearly counted for nothing because Rory Hunter up close and personal looked every inch the consultant. He had an authoritative air, a distinguished look about him, nothing like the tousled man who had lain on the gurney just over a week previously.