TWO
ABI LOOKED AT his retreating figure before she came to her senses and followed in his wake as the voice continued through the loudspeaker. ‘Code blue, room five.’
Damien sprinted past the next two rooms before he shouldered open a door and Abi followed him into what was possibly the largest private hospital room she had ever seen. In the centre of the wall in front of them was an oversized hospital bed. A nurse was kneeling on the bed, delivering cardiac compressions to a young woman wearing pale pink silk pyjamas.
‘She’s in cardiac arrest. Unresponsive, not breathing, no pulse,’ she told them as she continued with the compressions. She was doing a good job, delivering regular hard, deep compressions. The patient’s shirt had been opened at the front and Abi was astounded at how underweight the woman was. She was so thin Abi could see each and every rib.
‘Ellen, this is Dr Thompson,’ Damien said, as he reached behind the bed and pushed on the wall. A small door that was set flush into the panelling popped open and he pulled a defibrillator from the alcove. And that was it by way of introductions. There was no time for anything more as he quickly tore open the packets and Ellen sat back, stopping CPR, as Damien applied the adhesive electrodes to the patient’s chest wall.
Abi watched as he connected the wires, flicked the machine on and pressed the ‘analyse’ button. The patient’s heart rhythm appeared on the screen. She could see the disorganised pattern of ventricular fibrillation indicating that the brain was sending chaotic impulses to the heart that the heart couldn’t interpret. This meant the heart couldn’t fire a proper beat and it lost its rhythm and was unable to pump blood. The brain would be starved of oxygen, causing the patient to lose consciousness, and if the heart rhythm wasn’t corrected the patient would die. Defibrillation to restore regular rhythm and normal contractions was the best way to stop ventricular fibrillation, and that was exactly what Damien was instigating.
The machine issued instructions in its automated voice.
Stop CPR, analysing.
Shock advised.
Abi could hear the whine as the power built up in the defibrillator unit.
Stand clear.
‘Clear.’ Damien repeated the machine’s instructions to Abi and Ellen and checked to make sure they were well away from the patient before pressing the flashing red button. The machine delivered its first shock but there was no change in the rhythm of the heart.
Continue CPR.
‘Ellen, can you get an IV line in, oxygen monitor and an Ambu bag,’ Damien instructed, as he lowered the bed before continuing chest compressions.
Abi kicked off her shoes and stepped forward, ready to help. She hitched her skirt up to give her room to move, wondering why on earth she’d thought it was a good idea to wear a suit, and climbed up on the bed. She tipped the patient’s head back, opening her airway. She was ready to breathe for her the moment Damien paused in his compressions. They worked at a steady rate for two minutes until the AED machine interrupted them.
Stop CPR, analysing.
Shock advised.
‘Clear.’ Damien repeated the process to deliver a second shock.
Their patient was pale and clammy and she was starting to go a little blue around the mouth and jaw. Abi and Damien continued another round of CPR but this time Abi used the Ambu bag, squeezing air into the patient’s lungs after each set of thirty compressions. Another two minutes passed.
Stop CPR, analysing.
Shock advised.
They stood clear again as once more Damien pressed the red flashing button and this time a normal heart rhythm was restored.
Abi’s shoulders sagged as she slid off the bed and all three of them breathed a collective sigh of relief as they watched the heartbeat on the little screen.
Ellen removed the electrodes of the AED and replaced them with ECG leads as a second team, who Abi could only assume were the resus team, moved further into the room. Abi hadn’t noticed their arrival in all the chaos and they departed as swiftly and silently as they had arrived. Accompanied by Ellen, they wheeled the patient out of the room, no doubt taking her to the definitive observation unit, and Abi was left alone with Damien.
Now that the drama was over she didn’t know where to look or what to do. She stood in the middle of the room and tried to avoid looking at Damien. She studied her surroundings instead. The oversized hospital bed was gone but the room was far from empty. In front of a large window that overlooked a courtyard was a carpeted lounge area complete with a leather sofa, an armchair upholstered in a rich cream fabric and a marble-topped coffee table. She wandered over to the window, the carpet thick and plush under her stockinged feet, and took in the view over the courtyard. It offered complete privacy but even so the glass was tinted. Abi could see out but no one could see in. An en-suite bathroom was tucked into the far corner of the room and Abi could just glimpse a marble vanity in the mirrored reflection. The medical equipment was all tucked away discreetly, Abi assumed into purpose-built storage, and the room looked and felt like a hotel suite. The surroundings might be very different to what she was used to but the patients were the same. They all had lives that needed to be improved, or even saved, and that was her job. It didn’t matter if they were civilian or military, she just had to do what she was trained for.
‘Thanks for your help.’ Damien was standing beside her. ‘It was a good outcome,’ he added with a slight nod of his head.
Was that all the acknowledgement she was going to get?
She supposed she was only doing her job, she didn’t need to be congratulated for that, but she felt a little short-changed that he wasn’t more effusive, particularly after his previous criticism and questions relating to her medical qualifications. Surely she’d put some of his doubts to rest now?
She was pleased with how she’d coped. She hadn’t panicked, hadn’t felt stressed, she’d simply just clicked into gear. Her medical skills were as precise as ever. It was like riding a bike and she was thrilled to know that she hadn’t lost her touch in that regard. Her personal life might be a disaster, her self-belief might have taken a pounding and she might be struggling to cope out in the big wide world, but in the familiar environment of a hospital it seemed she’d lost none of her confidence. It was a reassuring discovery but it didn’t take away the disappointment that Damien didn’t seem quite so impressed.
‘I’d like to retract my earlier comment,’ he added.
‘What?’
‘When I questioned your qualifications. I jumped to conclusions and I’m sorry for that.’
‘Thank you.’ That was all she’d wanted. Some recognition of a job well done. Her day had just got a little bit brighter.
She could do this.
‘It’s obvious you can think on your feet and cope under pressure. Your defence-force experience means that you are undoubtedly qualified to cope with anything we can throw at you, as you’ve capably demonstrated, and I apologise,’ he said, and then he smiled.
Abi’s knees went weak. She sat down hard on the sofa as she tried to pretend that it was the adrenalin from the resuscitation that was flooding her system and
