style="font-size:15px;"> Carol was still laughing as she got up to answer the phone but her smile had faded by the time the call ended.
‘Damn!’ she muttered with a scowl and tipped the rest of her coffee down the sink.
‘Problem?’ Ella was already on her feet and giving her pale blue tunic top a tug to straighten the hem over her hips.
‘One of our assisted pregnancies has started bleeding. Her husband’s bringing her in now.’
‘Oh, dear. How far along is she? Enough for the baby to survive?’ Automatically Ella found herself following Carol out into the department, her own coffee unceremoniously dumped with barely a pang of regret.
‘No chance at all. She’s not even reached the end of the first trimester yet. And this time I really thought we’d cracked it for them.’ Carol sounded really upset for the couple.
‘You sound as if you know them well. I take it they’ve been coming for a while?’
‘Too long,’ she confirmed darkly. ‘I first met them when they were going through all the tests to find out why she wasn’t conceiving. She’d had problems with an IUD when they were first married but hadn’t realised that the infection had affected her Fallopian tubes. Both tubes were so badly scarred that finally it was decided that their only option was IVF. This is their third attempt.’
Ella had come across such cases at her last hospital and her heart went out to the couple. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to want to start a family only to discover that you would never achieve it without medical intervention. The fact that this was already their third attempt was witness to this couple’s determination to succeed.
Unfortunately, she mused while they waited for Mira to arrive, sometimes all the determination in the world was not enough to ensure success. Would they be one of the unlucky ones who were fated never to have a child of their own?
‘She’s one of Mr Gifford’s cases,’ Carol announced, scanning the top page of the case notes as she came back into the examination room where Ella had been checking the range of supplies to hand. ‘Could you page him for me? The numbers are listed on the wall phone for convenience. I’ve already contacted the ultrasound technician and checked the availability of a bed in case she needs to be admitted.’
Ella had barely put the phone back in its cradle after logging the page when it rang again.
‘Winston Ward,’ she said automatically, completely forgetting that this wasn’t her old hospital, then hastily corrected herself. ‘I’m sorry. That’s not right. It’s…what is the name of the obs and gyn department, Carol?’ she hissed over her shoulder, totally flustered by her mistake. If she hadn’t been thinking about Seth Gifford she’d have had her mind on her job.
‘I take it that’s Ella,’ said a dark brown velvet voice in her ear. ‘It’s Seth Gifford here. Somebody paged me.’
‘Yes. I—I did…or rather Carol asked me to,’ she stammered, completely thrown by the tremor of awareness that spiralled through her at the sound of his voice. She thought she could even hear amusement in his tone.
‘Mira Connolly is on her way in,’ she continued, hastily dragging her wayward thoughts back to the important matter in hand. ‘Apparently she’s bleeding.’
‘Damn!’ she heard him say forcefully. ‘I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. I expect Carol’s organised the ultrasound?’
‘Yes. And a bed in case she needs to be admitted.’
‘Well done.’
The sharp click in her ear told her that he’d cut the connection but it took her a second to relinquish her hold on the receiver.
‘How soon can he be here?’ Carol prompted.
‘He’s already on his way, by the sound of it. He doesn’t waste time on small talk, does he?’
‘You’d be surprised,’ she argued. ‘I’ve never seen him watching the clock when a patient needs reassurance.’
The sound of the lift arriving had both of them craning their necks around the doorjamb to see who was arriving. A wheelchair emerged at speed expertly wielded by a porter. The tearstained woman huddled in it was obviously their patient while the tall man following them, his thinning blond hair wildly dishevelled and devastation in his eyes, was equally obviously her husband.
‘This way, Mick,’ Carol called when the porter paused briefly to look both ways along the corridor. ‘We’re all ready in here.’
‘Is Mr Gifford here?’ the woman demanded tearfully as soon as she caught sight of the two of them. ‘I need to see Mr Gifford. He’ll be able to do something, I know he will. I can’t lose this baby. Not this time!’ She dissolved into racking sobs that continued right through her transfer onto the examining couch. Even Carol’s repeated assurances that the consultant was on his way couldn’t comfort her.
Ella wasn’t sure what she expected Seth to do when he arrived but it certainly wasn’t the way he walked straight across to sit on the edge of the couch and wrap a comforting arm around the patient’s shoulders.
‘Hush, Mira,’ he murmured. ‘Hush, now. You don’t even know whether there’s anything to cry about. You haven’t even given me a chance to check yet.’
‘But…but I’m b-bleeding again. I’ve l-lost the b-baby again. I know I have!’
‘Mira, listen to me,’ he demanded sternly, deliberately holding her gaze. ‘Have I ever lied to you?’
‘N-no.’ She shook her head miserably.
‘Well, I won’t start now. Obviously as you’re bleeding there is a chance that you’ve lost your baby. You’ve been through this often enough to know that. But, until I’ve checked you over, none of us can know for sure. Even women who aren’t on IVF sometimes have intermittent bleeding for one reason or another, and then go on to have perfectly normal healthy babies.’
She nodded, but Ella knew the poor woman didn’t really believe it.
‘Well, I hope you trust me enough to know that I’ll always tell you the truth, whatever it is,’ Seth said softly as he straightened up off the side of the examining couch, relinquishing his position with a gesture to her husband to take his place.
Ella was certain that the rest of them in the room had been trying to look as if they were busy with something else to give her the semblance of privacy, but she knew that she’d been riveted by Seth’s compassion while he’d been calming Mira down. She certainly hadn’t noticed the arrival of the ultrasound technician.
‘How long ago did you empty your bladder?’ the motherly woman asked quietly as she began to set up the equipment, switching on the computerised display and thoughtfully warming the probe.
‘Actually, I need to go now,’ Mira admitted, looking fearfully at the blank screen that would soon display the presence or absence of the baby in her womb. ‘Should I go before you start?’
‘It’s not necessary for you to go anywhere,’ she said soothingly. ‘It’s actually better if your bladder is full. We can get a better picture.’
