only now, a couple of days later, that she had begun to regret her haste. She was a paediatrician, for heaven’s sake, a specialist in A and E, it ought to be beyond her to behave in such an impulsive manner. Why had she even bothered to write in? Hadn’t she anything better to do with her time?
And to send off another message at breakfast-time today, well, that had to be pure folly, hadn’t it? What on earth was wrong with her?
She pulled out on to the city road and flicked on the car radio so that she wouldn’t have to listen to her own thoughts any longer.
‘We’re glad to have you with us for our twice-weekly programme, Morning Surgery, with Dr Matt Calder,’ the radio host was saying in reverent tones, and Abby’s breath hissed into her lungs. ‘Before we open the door to the first patient, we just have time for a few words with our amiable physician.’ He paused. ‘Dr Calder, I see you’ve been going through your post in the last few minutes. What’s new for today?’ Abby’s fingers were poised to find the ‘off’ button, but she had to negotiate traffic and for the moment she let it ride.
‘Medical ethics seem to be on the agenda right now,’ Dr Calder replied. His voice floated over the airways, easygoing, friendly and compellingly smooth, and Abby had no doubt that he would be soothing troubled souls all over the nation.
‘People have been replying to the comment made by the doctor who objected to the cameras following patients to the emergency room. I have to say that opinion is divided on the matter, with some for and some against. We’ve actually had another, rather more strongly worded message from the doctor herself this morning, pointing out that what we’re doing is akin to exploitation.’
He proceeded to read out some of her hastily written comments, and Abby’s cheeks filled with heat. Having him repeat her words only served to add a new dimension to her embarrassment.
He had stopped to take a breath, and Abby could imagine him giving a wry smile. There was a definite inflection in his voice as he went on, ‘I tend to see it more as helping people to learn from others’ experiences. We hope that by televising these situations, others might be less afraid and better informed if they should find themselves in similar situations. We are very grateful to Megan and people like her who allow us to share their particular traumas. Some people are extraordinarily outgoing and generous in their outlook. We thank them heartily.’
Some people are extraordinarily outgoing and generous? Abby pressed her lips together. What did that make her? The way he spoke, the implication was that, in contrast, she was clearly a crabby spinster.
By now she had arrived in the grounds of the hospital. She switched off the radio with a jerking twist of her fingers and then she parked the car in her dedicated slot. Sliding out of the driver’s seat, she straightened up, locked the doors, and then pulled in a deep breath, assuming the mantle of consultant paediatrician. She had a difficult job to do, and it took every ounce of her reserves. She was the one who set the tone for the A and E department, and people had to be able to trust her to work efficiently and set in place a good atmosphere. Her colleagues relied on her to provide them with guidance and a good example, though what they would make of her recent outbursts via the website they all seemed to favour was anybody’s guess.
‘I’ve checked on all the patients in the observation ward,’ Helen said, coming to greet her a short time later. ‘Everyone seems fairly stable at the moment. I thought maybe you would want to transfer the six-year-old to the children’s ward, though. His breathing is still impaired, and he’s certainly not well enough to be sent home.’
Abby glanced at the boy’s chart. ‘Yes, I agree with you. As to the boy with the head injury, we’ll need to find him a bed, too. The others will probably be able to go home later today, but we’ll monitor them up until lunchtime.’
Helen nodded. ‘I’ll organise that. We seem to be busy this morning. There’s a full waiting room already and we have an incoming patient from a domestic accident, a girl who scalded herself.’
Abby winced. ‘It never ends, does it? There’s always some poor little scrap who ends up being hurt when it might have been avoided.’
She glanced at Helen. The registrar’s black hair was sleek and shining, expertly cut to fall neatly into place at the nape of her neck. It lifted and swirled in a delicate flurry as she turned her head.
‘You’re looking good today,’ Abby remarked. ‘Have you been to the hairdresser?’
The registrar grinned. ‘I thought I’d better make an effort,’ she murmured. ‘We have the interviews later today, remember. I figured I should do my best to look impeccably groomed and professional, as you asked me to sit in on them.’
‘Is that today?’ Abby grimaced. ‘I haven’t looked at the diary yet but, of course, you’re right. I remember thinking that I ought to put in another advertisement. Judging from the response we had, I don’t think we’re going to find the person we want. Most people want full-time work, but the budget won’t run to that. No wonder we’re run off our feet most of the time. We need more doctors, not to mention more specialist nurses and a whole load of other staff, like porters and other ancillary staff to take up some of the burden.’
‘You never know, we might get lucky. We could find someone who’ll be able to do the work of ten men.’
Abby chuckled. ‘We can always dream, can’t we?’
She went to check on the incoming patient, and for the next couple of hours she was busy dealing with youngsters and their various injuries. She tried, as ever, to push their distress to the back of her mind, and concentrated on providing pain relief and applying treatment that would promote healing and lessen their discomfort.
‘We’ve a child coming in from a traffic accident,’ the senior house officer told her. ‘It looks like a displaced midshaft femur fracture. He’s three years old. Apparently he ran into the road and the car driver didn’t manage to stop in time to avoid hitting him.’
‘OK, Sam. Make sure that trauma room four is ready to receive him. We’d better have Helen on standby if she’s free…and tell radiology to expect him for a CT scan.’
‘Will do.’ Sam moved away to set things in motion and Abby prepared to take over from the paramedics when they wheeled the little boy into the emergency room.
‘He was unconscious when we reached him,’ the paramedic told her. ‘An airway’s been put in, and we’ve set up two intravenous lines. His right thigh appears to be deformed from the impact.’
‘Thanks for that, Lewis.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’ll let you know how he gets on.’
He looked relieved. ‘Thanks, Abby. I’ll pop back later on. He’s such a tiny little thing. I hope he’ll do all right.’
‘So do I.’
He moved away and she began to swiftly examine the boy. ‘The abdomen is distended, with decreased bowel sounds,’ she told Sam when he returned to her side. ‘The pelvis is stable, but the thigh is swollen and tense. He’s still unresponsive. We’ll get a CT of the abdomen to check for any lacerations, and X-ray the leg to see what we’re dealing with. It will most likely need fixation, so you should ring for the orthopaedic surgeon to come and take a look.’
‘I’m on it.’ Sam hurried away once more, while Abby checked with the nurse as to the boy’s immediate care.
She was writing out
