veins, and with no one to distract him his thoughts were free to run over all the things that could be wrong, and all the things that could go wrong as a consequence.
The list was hideous, and just thinking it all through made him want to retch.
He called Ben’s mobile from his hands-free. His son-in-law would be there today, in A and E, and he’d give him advance warning. He drummed his fingers on the steering-wheel, waiting impatiently for Ben to answer, and when he did, Ben got there before he did.
‘It’s OK, Nick, we’re on it. I can hear the helicopter now, we’re going out to meet it. Just drive carefully and meet us in Resus. I’ll get someone to look out for you.’
‘OK. Ben—check Kate over, could you? Or get someone to? She was in the car with Jem and I don’t know if she’s hurt. And tell her I’m coming.’
‘Sure. Got to go. See you soon.’
The phone went dead, and he sliced through the traffic and in through the hospital gates, abandoned the car on the kerb and ran in. It would probably be clamped but he’d worry about that later.
He was met at the door and ushered straight through to Resus, and as the door swung open he froze for a second. He was assailed by memories, his emotions suddenly in turmoil. He couldn’t do this. Not here, not this room, of all the places.
He had to. On autopilot, he looked around at a scene of organised chaos, Ben snapping out orders and the team anticipating him like a well-oiled machine. A machine that held the boy’s life in its hands?
The same machine—and the same man—that had held Annabel’s—and lost it?
Dear God.
They were cutting Jem’s clothes off, slicing through the sodden fabric, peeling it away so they could get a proper look at him, talking reassuringly to him all the time, and it could have been any of his boys lying there, all skinny limbs and ribcage with only the pelvic binder left to hold his pelvis stable.
Don’t let him die. Please, God, don’t let him die…
‘OK, let’s cross-match for ten units and get five units of O-neg to start with, and some packed cells, and let’s get some X-rays—a full trauma series, starting with head, spine and pelvis. What about pain relief?’ Ben asked. ‘What’s he had already?’
‘Three milligrams of morphine IV, but his blood pressure’s dropping. Want to try—?’
The voices washed around Nick, only two things really registering. One was the bruised little face scarcely visible under the mask, most of Jem’s head concealed by the padding of the neck brace; the other was Kate, sodden and bedraggled, standing a few feet away watching as they worked on her little son, her eyes wide with fear, her lips moving soundlessly.
Praying?
Probably. There was little else to do. He crossed over to her, and she gripped his hand and gave a tiny sob.
He squeezed back. He wanted to hug her, to say, ‘It’s OK, it’s going to be all right,’ but he wasn’t sure it was, wasn’t sure she’d want him to hold her, wasn’t sure she’d believe him—and anyway his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.
He freed it with effort and concentrated on the facts. ‘Have you done a FAST exam?’ he asked, sticking to something safe, and Ben shook his head.
‘No, we’re just about to.’
‘Fast?’ Kate murmured.
‘Ultrasound, basically,’ Ben said. ‘It might show what’s going on.’
Such as free fluid in the abdomen. Blood, most particularly, from torn arteries, sheered bone ends…
Nick felt the bile welling again, and dragged his free hand over his face.
The radiographer was setting up the X-ray machine as Ben quickly ran the head of the ultrasound wand over Jeremiah’s thin, slightly distended abdomen, and Nick watched the screen, wincing at the image. Free fluid. Lots of it. Damn.
They were handed lead aprons. Ben must have realised they wouldn’t leave, and as the X-rays appeared on the computer screen a few moments later, Nick sucked in a breath.
Even across the room, he could see the fractures on the left side of Jeremiah’s pelvis, the bony ends displaced, the damage they’d caused all too easily imaginable.
‘OK, this needs fixation before he goes anywhere,’ Ben was saying. ‘Are the orthos free?’
‘No. They’re just finishing off so they’re ready for him,’ the charge nurse said. ‘Want me to get Josh?’
‘Please—and fast-bleep the anaesthetist, we need to get on with this.’
‘Who’s Josh?’ Kate asked, her face white.
‘New guy,’ Ben said. ‘He’s good—don’t worry, I’ve known him for years. He’s done a lot of this—he’s a bit of a trauma specialist. But we need to get this pelvis rigid before we move Jem and he needs to go straight up to Theatre if we can’t stop the bleeding here. You need to sign a consent form for that. Why don’t you do that and then get a cup of tea—?’
‘His pressure’s dropping.’
Ben frowned and bent over the boy. ‘OK, Jem, stay with us, come on, you’re doing really well. Let’s give him a 250-mil bolus of O-neg and we’ll see if he stabilises. Kate, I don’t suppose you know his blood group, do you?’
She shook her head, her face terrified. ‘No. No idea. I’m O-positive, if that helps.’
‘Cross-match results are up,’ someone said. ‘He’s B-negative.’
B-negative? Through the roaring in his head, Nick heard Ben sigh harshly. ‘Damn. We used all our stock this morning. I don’t know if it’s been replaced yet.’ Ben’s eyes flicked questioningly to Nick’s, and he swallowed.
‘I’m B-negative,’ he confirmed, the last traces of doubt obliterated from his mind with this one small fact. ‘So’s Jack. We’re both regular donors.’
Ben didn’t miss a beat. ‘OK. Nick, contact Jack and ask him if he’s able to donate today, then we’ll get Haematology to sort it. That’ll give us two units, and we’ll salvage his own in Theatre and recycle it and give it back to him, and we can use O-neg if necessary until we get more, but if we get the ex-fix on, the bleeding may well stop anyway.’
Or it might not. ‘You can take two units from me,’ Nick said, and he saw Kate turn towards him, heard the hitch in her breath as she waited for what he was going to say. Not that. Not out loud, but he met his son-in-law’s eyes squarely, and Ben gave a brief, imperceptible nod of understanding.
A door flapped shut behind him, and Nick turned and looked straight into Jack’s eyes.
‘Kate, Dad—hi. What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘I was out in cubicles—they said Jem was in here.’
‘He is,’ Nick said, and Jack looked at the X-rays, winced and glanced down at the child on the trolley.
