Surgeon On Call. Alison Roberts

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could have offered to take that phone number from Stan and use the excuse of a patient follow-up as a reason for contact. The choice had been there and it hadn’t been difficult to make. She had no desire to renew her acquaintance with Joe Petersen. The incident and the man were history.

      In fact, she would probably have trouble recognising him if she did see him again.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE recognition was instantaneous.

      Felicity spotted Joe in the emergency department from as far away as it was possible to get. She was entering the double doors that led from the end of the corridor dividing the department into the main area of Queen Mary Hospital. Joe was standing beside the bed in cubicle 3. On top of the bed sat a small girl with curly red hair. Even from that distance Felicity could recognise a struggle to keep on top of the fear, confusion and probably pain the child was experiencing.

      The characteristic decisiveness in Felicity’s forward movement took her swiftly towards the sorting desk.

      ‘Who’s in cubicle 3, Mike?’

      The nurse manager had been talking to senior consultant Gareth Harvey as he was entering information into a computer program. ‘Samantha Petersen. Four years old. Query greenstick fracture of the left radius.’

      Felicity nodded. Joe Petersen’s daughter, then. Part of the family whose circumstances had somehow brought Joe to Christchurch. ‘Did she come in by ambulance?’

      ‘No. Her father brought her in a couple of minutes ago. He’s some sort of medic, apparently.’ Mike raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from the computer screen, clearly puzzled by the interest shown by a consultant in such a minor case.

      ‘Do you know him?’ Gareth also looked curious.

      ‘We’ve met.’ Felicity’s gaze flicked to the whiteboard. The spaces beside cubicle 3 had yet to be filled in.

      Mike had followed her line of query. ‘I’m giving her to Mary. Colin White can see her later.’

      Felicity’s gaze shifted again. The nurse, Mary, was pushing an IV trolley out of cubicle 6 so she hadn’t caught up on her new case assignment. She knew that Colin, one of the registrars, was still busy in the observation ward she had just come from herself. Nobody had attended to the Petersens yet.

      ‘I’ll deal with it, Mike. I’ve got a clear space unless there’s something urgent on the way.’

      ‘Nothing major. Possible infarct coming from out of town but they’re twenty minutes or so away yet.’

      ‘OK.’ Felicity’s nod was brisk. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’ She was already moving towards cubicle 3. It might not take very long but, boy, was she going to enjoy it! She pulled the curtain closed around the cubicle to create a more private examination area.

      ‘Hi, there, sweetheart.’ Felicity smiled at the child whose right arm was clutching a soft toy that looked like some kind of floppy dog. ‘What’s your name?’

      Small lips pressed together tightly but the movement was not enough to stop a noticeable chin wobble. Large, frightened brown eyes were fixed on Felicity.

      ‘Tell the nurse your name, Samantha.’ The order was given in a kindly voice but the only effect was to make the child’s eyes swim with tears.

      Felicity flicked Joe a brief glance. Nurse indeed. This was going to be even better than she had anticipated. She smiled at Joe’s daughter again.

      ‘My name’s Fliss,’ she told the child. ‘Do you go to school, Samantha?’

      ‘She’s not old enough for school. She goes to kindergarten.’ Joe’s tone was wary. Felicity knew he had recognised her now. His brain was ticking over, probably remembering their encounter with the spinal injury patient. Maybe he was wondering if he might have insulted her by not knowing she was a nurse. Nurse, ha! Felicity bit back a tiny smile. Joe would keep for the moment.

      ‘Do they call you Samantha at kindy, sweetheart?’

      This time Felicity was rewarded with an almost imperceptible head shake.

      ‘What do they call you? Sam? Sammie?’

      The slight movement changed to an affirmative direction. Felicity mirrored the nod as she perched casually on the bed beside the small girl.

      ‘Which do you like better? Sam or Sammie?’

      ‘Sam.’ The response was a whisper.

      Felicity lowered her own voice to a similarly conspiratorial level. ‘Can I call you Sam?’

      ‘OK.’

      ‘Cool.’ Felicity winked at Samantha. ‘I’ll call you Sam and you can call me Fliss. Is that a deal?’

      The smile was worth winning. It brightened up a pale little face which was dusted with freckles that matched the luxurious reddish blonde curls. Felicity’s visual impression had included more than the skin colour of her patient, however. She had, by now, assessed the level of the child’s responsiveness and distress, noted her respiration rate and seen the slight but obvious deformity of the left forearm that lay limply on the child’s lap. The right arm still clutched the tattered toy dog.

      ‘How did you hurt your arm, Sam?’

      ‘I...I fell out of the swing.’ The child’s glance towards her father made Felicity blink. Was Samantha afraid of giving the wrong answer? Was she afraid of her father? The continuation of the hesitant response raised Felicity’s suspicions another notch.

      ‘I...I didn’t hang on tight enough.’ A huge tear escaped and rolled down a freckled cheek.

      ‘It was an accident.’ Was Joe Petersen annoyed with the child or the inconvenience of a trip to the emergency department? Whatever the reason, the tone was inappropriate and not the normal interaction between a parent and child in such a situation. Felicity had already noted the lack of physical contact between the pair. What was going on here?

      ‘It doesn’t matter how it happened,’ she told Samantha gently. ‘What matters is that we fix up your arm. Does it hurt at the moment?’

      Samantha nodded.

      ‘Did you hit your head when you fell out of the swing?’

      ‘She wasn’t KO’d,’ Joe said.

      Felicity ignored him. ‘Does anything else hurt you, Sam?’

      ‘No.’ Again Joe answered on behalf of his daughter.

      Felicity drew in a deep breath. She spoke calmly. ‘I think Samantha might be better qualified to answer that question than you, Mr Petersen.’

      The muscular twitch in the man’s face gave away the incredulity his tone managed to conceal. ‘I believe my daughter has a greenstick fracture of the left radius. Perhaps you could do whatever baseline measurements your protocols dictate and then find a doctor who can authorise the necessary pain relief and treatment this injury requires.’

      Felicity

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