effects,’ Stephanie warned. ‘She might have a headache or an upset tummy, or be sick. If that’s the case, your family doctor can review the treatment and prescribe a slightly different medication, but this one should do the trick.’
‘I appreciate that.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘And thank you for being so reassuring last night. You were really good with Mia.’
His praise warmed her—and that was dangerous. She never let herself react like this to anyone. She was good at her job and she did what needed to be done; but she didn’t allow anyone too close, patient or colleague. She’d learned after Joe that she was better off on her own. Nobody to get her hopes up, and nobody to let her down.
She shrugged off his praise and gave him a small smile. ‘No worries. It’s what I’m supposed to do.’ She wrote on Mia’s chart. ‘Do you have any questions, or is there anything you’re not clear about with her condition and the treatment?’
‘No, it’s all fine. Thanks.’
‘OK. Well, good luck.’ She shook his hand, and left the department.
Four days later, Stephanie was called in to the maternity department to check over a baby after an emergency Caesarean section.
The obstetric surgeon was still in the middle of the operation, so Stephanie introduced herself to the midwife and the registrar and waited for the baby to be delivered.
‘So what’s the history?’ she asked.
‘The mum had pre-eclampsia—it came on really suddenly,’ the midwife explained. ‘She was fine at her last check-up; her blood pressure was a bit high, but she’d been rushing around all day. And then today she started feeling really rough, had a headache she couldn’t shift and swollen ankles. Her community midwife sent her in to us, and her blood pressure had spiked and there was protein in her urine. Daniel wasn’t happy with the baby’s heartbeat and so he brought her straight up here.’
Daniel, Stephanie presumed, was the surgeon. She knew that the only cure for pre-eclampsia was to deliver the baby. ‘How many weeks is she?’ she asked.
‘Thirty-six.’
So there was a good chance that the baby’s lungs had matured enough, though the baby might still need little bit of help breathing and some oxygen treatment after the birth.
‘Is there anything else I need to know?’ she asked.
‘That’s the only complication,’ the midwife said.
Though, as complications went, that one was more than enough; Stephanie was aware of all the potential problems for the baby, from low blood sugar through to patent ductus arteriosis, a problem where the blood vessel that allowed the blood to go through a baby’s lungs before birth didn’t close properly and caused abnormal blood flow in the heart. She’d just have to hope that the baby didn’t have a really rough ride.
Once the baby was delivered and the cord was cut, Stephanie quickly checked him over. His heart rate and breathing were both a little on the low side, and his hands and feet were slightly bluish, but to her relief his muscle tone was good and he grimaced and cried. And he was a good weight, too; that would help him cope better.
She wrapped him in a clean cloth and brought him over to his mother.
‘I think you deserve a cuddle after all that hard work,’ she said. ‘He’s a beautiful boy. Now, I do want to take him up to the special care unit for a little while, because he needs a little bit of help breathing—but that’s because he’s a bit early and it’s really common, so please don’t start worrying that anything’s desperately wrong. You’ll be able to see him in the unit any time you like, and I’ll be around if you have any questions.’
‘Thank you,’ the mum whispered.
By the time Stephanie had sorted out the baby’s admission to the special care unit, the surgeon had finished sewing up the mum and she’d been wheeled off to the recovery room.
The surgeon came over to her, removing his mask. ‘Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Daniel—’
‘Mr Connor,’ she said as she looked up And recognised him.
He was the last person she’d expected to be here. And to think she’d been so careful to explain his daughter’s condition. What an idiot she’d made of herself. As a doctor, of course he would’ve known the biology—especially as he was clearly senior to her, being a surgeon.
She shook herself and switched into professional mode. ‘How’s your little girl?’
‘She’s fine, thanks.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I feel a bit ashamed of myself now for panicking as much as I did. And I’m sorry. I really should’ve told you I was a doctor.’
So he felt as awkward as she did? Maybe this was salvageable, then. Which was good, because the chances were that they’d have to work together in the future. She wanted to keep all her work relationships as smooth as possible. ‘It’s not a problem. I think any parent panics when their child can’t breathe properly, and it’s probably worse when you’re a doctor because you know all the potential complications—it’s scary stuff.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘But I am sorry for drawing you that diagram. It was pretty much teaching you to suck eggs.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t apologise. It was a great analogy, and I needed to hear it right then. Actually, I’m glad you’re on the paediatrics team. I wondered at the time if you were a locum.’
‘No, I was rostered on the paediatric assessment unit. Rhys Morgan had it moved to the emergency department at about the same time that I joined the team.’ She looked at him, surprised. ‘Why are you pleased I’m in paediatrics?’
‘Because, if you were a locum, I was going to ask Theo Petrakis—my boss—to put you on the list for Neonatal. You’re good with panicky parents,’ he said simply, ‘and I can say that from first-hand experience.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Perhaps I can buy you a coffee later today?’ he said.
Coffee? Was he asking her as colleague, or as a grateful parent, or as a potential date? Stephanie couldn’t quite read the signals and it filled her with panic. Especially as she didn’t know what his situation was. No way did she want to get in the slightest bit involved with a colleague who wasn’t free.
Actually, she didn’t want to get involved, full stop. Once bitten, definitely twice shy. It was safest to keep people pigeonholed as patients or colleagues, the way she’d done ever since her divorce. ‘There’s no need, really. I was just doing my job.’ Flustered, she added, ‘I’d better get back to my department.’
‘Sure. Nice to see you again, Stephanie,’ he said.
‘You, too,’ she said, and fled before she made even more of an idiot of herself.
‘STEPHANIE? YOU’VE GOT visitors,’ Lynne, one of the senior paediatric nurses, said. ‘They’re waiting at the nurses’ station for you.’
Visitors?
