at both of them. ‘I’ll lead team one—Sarah, you can be team two... Brandon three.’
‘Where do you want me?’ asked Jacob.
Ideally as far away from me as possible.
‘Work with Brandon.’
‘Okay.’
He wrapped a plastic apron around himself and grabbed for gloves before glancing at the clock, walking away to join Brandon.
She watched him go, knowing that at some point she was going to have to tell him the truth.
Just not now.
Six minutes to go.
Eva pulled on her own apron and donned gloves, her heart pounding, her pulse thrumming like a well-oiled racing car.
Five minutes.
All eyes were on the clock.
Watching it tick down.
AMBULANCE SIRENS GREW louder and closer as the staff waited, tense and raring to go. These were the moments that Eva both loved and hated.
Loved because of the way Resus went quiet as they all waited, pensive, with adrenaline urging their muscles to get moving.
Hated because she never quite knew what horrors she might yet encounter.
Still the paediatric team had not arrived.
Outside, there was the sound of rumbling engines and then the distant beeping sound of a reversing vehicle. Hospital doors slid open as the first patient came in.
Eva spotted a small dark-haired child, wearing a neck brace and on a backboard, and heard the paramedic firing off details about the patient.
‘This is Ariana, aged three. Ariana was restrained by a seat belt but endured a side impact of about thirty miles an hour. Head to toe: small abrasion on the forehead, complaining of neck pain, score of eight, bruising across the chest and middle, due to the seat belt, lower back and pelvis pain, which is secured with a splint, GCS of fifteen throughout, BP and pulse normal.’
Ariana? Didn’t her son Seb know a girl in his nursery school called Ariana?
Eva tried not to panic. She had to focus on the little girl in her care. Surely the school would have rung her if anything had happened to Seb? Although her phone was turned off, of course, and in her locker. She’d run and check as soon as she got the chance. Ariana was her priority right now.
‘Ariana? My name’s Eva. I’m one of the doctors here and I’m going to look after you.’
The way you dealt with any patient was important, but when it came to dealing with children—children who didn’t yet have their parents there to advocate for them—Eva felt it was doubly important. You had to let them know it was okay to be scared, but that they would be looked after very well and that the staff would do their utmost to get the child’s parents there as quickly as possible.
Ariana looked terrified. She had a bad graze on her forehead, probably from smashed glass, and her eyes were wide and tearful. Her bottom lip was trembling and it was obvious she was trying not to cry.
Eva’s heart went out to her. How terrifying it must be to be that small, alone and hurt, in a strange place that smelled funny and sounded funny, surrounded by strangers who all wanted to poke you and prod at you and stick you with needles, saying they’d make you feel better.
‘We need to check you’re okay, Ariana. What a pretty name! Now, I’m just going to use this—’ she held up her stethoscope ‘—to listen to your chest. Is that all right?’ Eva always made sure her paediatric patients understood what she was doing.
Ariana tried to nod, but her head’s movement was restricted by the neck immobiliser. ‘Ow! It hurts!’
‘Which bit hurts, honey?’
‘My neck.’
‘Okay, I’ll check that out for you in just a moment.’
Ariana’s chest sounded clear, which was a good sign. However, neck pain was not. It could simply be whiplash, but with neck pain you never took a chance.
‘We’ll need to take a couple of special pictures. But don’t you worry—they won’t hurt. It’s just a big camera.’
She looked up at the team she was working with, awaiting their feedback. One was checking the patient’s airway, another was checking her breathing, another Ariana’s circulation. One would get IV access for the admission of drugs or painkillers or blood, if it was needed. Each doctor or nurse was calling out a result or observation. They all worked as a highly efficient team so that patients were quickly and perfectly assessed as soon as they arrived in Resus.
Ariana was looking good at the moment. With the exception of the neck pain and the pelvic brace she was doing well, and she was responsive, which was very important. Her blood pressure was stable, so hopefully that meant no internal bleeding at all for them to worry about.
Behind her, Eva heard the Resus doors bang open once again as another patient arrived from the accident. She risked a quick glance to see who had come in. She knew Sarah or Brandon would take care of the new patient and she could focus all her attention on Ariana.
‘Have the parents been called?’
One of the nurses replied, ‘We believe the school are trying to contact parents now.’
‘Good. Did you hear that, Ariana? We’re going to find your mummy and daddy.’
She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to get that call, being a mother herself. Luckily, so far, Seb hadn’t been involved in anything serious like that. The only time she’d ever been woken by a phone call was when he’d gone for a sleepover at a friend’s house and the mother had rung at about eleven o’clock at night to say that Seb couldn’t get to sleep without his cuddly lion.
Nothing like this, thank goodness.
But having Ariana in front of her was making her doubtful. This sweet little girl looked familiar, and she felt so sure that Seb had a girl in his nursery class called Ariana...
If it was the same preschool as Seb... If he’d been hurt...
Her stomach did a crazy tumble.
She glanced across at the other teams. Sarah was busy assessing a patient and Brandon and Jacob were looking after their own little charge.
She turned back to Ariana, who was now holding her hand, and showed her the Wong-Baker FACES pain-rating scale—a series of cartoon faces that helped really young children scale their pain.
‘Which one of these are you, Ariana? Zero? Which means no hurting? Or ten? Which means hurting the worst?’
She watched as Ariana looked at all the little
