got a chance with the Lowe kid—he’s young and his brain damage may not be as bad as first expected. I’ve seen kids like him on ventilators for weeks and then suddenly they’re up and running about as if nothing had happened.’
‘I hope that’s how it will be for Tommy,’ she said. ‘He’s just seven years old.’
Harry gave her a probing look. ‘You’re not getting too emotionally involved in this, are you, Allegra? I know you had a rough time with the Greeson girl but we all have to move on. They’re our patients and we do what we can, but it’s not our fault if we can’t pull a miracle out of the hat every time.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, wondering if it was true. ‘I just want to give this my best shot. I know there’s potential in this study. I can sense it.’
‘You have to show it, not sense it,’ he reminded her, with scientific pragmatism.
‘I know that, Harry. I’m well aware of the parameters I have to work within. I just think there are ways we’re not utilising that could help patients regain consciousness. Everything seems to be economically rationalised these days—if there’s no EEG activity after X days and Y dollars of ICU support, pull the plug. But with a different theoretical approach and some time and effort, I believe we could start a paradigm shift in the management of post-traumatic coma.’
‘I hope to God you’re right, Allegra,’ he said, as he removed his surgical gown. ‘I hate it when ventilators are switched off on live bodies. It doesn’t matter how many CT scans and EEGs, I still can’t help feeling there might have been …’ He didn’t need to complete the sentence.
‘I know,’ she said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘“Brain dead” is a cold, hard term. I realise we can’t keep people alive indefinitely on a ventilator when there’s clearly no hope. I just want to make absolutely sure there is no hope, that we’re covering every aspect, not giving up before every option is explored.’
‘I know it’s a well-worn adage, but I really do believe that where there’s life there’s hope. Joel was right when he said earlier that it’s not over until it’s over. Even Gaile Donovan here—sick as she is—still has a slim chance of making it.’
Allegra looked down at the pallid features of the patient under her care. ‘I certainly hope so, Harry.’
He gave her a weary glance as he helped move the patient from the operating table to the ICTU bed. ‘I’m going out to speak to the husband and daughters now. I wish I could promise them more but I’m not a miracle-worker.’
‘She’s alive, Harry,’ Allegra said. ‘That’s all that matters right now. That’s all they’ll want to hear.’
‘I know, but for how long?’ he asked as she wheeled the patient past him out of Theatre.
Allegra didn’t answer. She didn’t like Gaile Donovan’s chances either, but to voice them seemed to be inviting the worst. She’d already had enough of the worst. What she needed now was a miracle and she was going to go looking for it, no matter what Joel Addison said to the contrary.
CHAPTER TEN
PATRICK Naylor was sitting in the bar, waiting for her, when Allegra finally arrived, the two empty glasses in front of him suggesting he’d been there for quite a while.
‘I’m sorry I’m late but I had to go back to Theatre,’ she said as she sat down opposite him.
‘I wasn’t worried … not really,’ he said, giving her a quick on-off smile before his eyes moved away from hers as he stared into the empty glass in front of him, his shoulders suddenly slumping. ‘I just needed to see a friendly face.’
‘Is everything all right, Patrick?’ Allegra asked.
He gradually brought his gaze back to hers, the moisture shining there indicating he was having trouble keeping his emotions at bay. ‘My wife is pregnant to her lover,’ he said. ‘I found out about it this morning.’
‘I’m so sorry. That must be awful for you.’
He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘The irony is it was me who kept putting off having a family. I guess that’s why she went looking elsewhere.’
She reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
He shook his head and covered her hand with his. ‘No, there’s nothing anyone can do. I have to deal with it myself.’ He released a little sigh and continued, ‘I’ve booked in to see a counsellor. I think it’s time I did some work on myself.’
‘That’s very brave of you,’ she said softly.
He removed his hand from hers. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so full on lately. I thought if I threw myself into a new relationship I wouldn’t feel so bad about it all.’
‘I understand.’
He gave her a twisted, somewhat grim smile. ‘I wanted to make my wife jealous. I thought if she saw you hanging on my arm she’d change her mind and come back, but that’s not going to happen now. It’s over.’
‘I’m glad you explained it to me.’
‘There’s something else …’ He pushed his empty glass out of his reach before his eyes returned to hers. ‘Joel Addison didn’t ask you out for the reasons I said. He is concerned about some issues pertaining to your project, especially since the Lowe incident, but I was just jealous and wanted to cause trouble.’
‘Oh …’
‘It was pathetic, I know, and I’m ashamed of myself. I hope I haven’t made things difficult for you. I know you have to work pretty closely with him.’
‘I’m sure we’ll sort it out …’ Allegra said, already mentally rehearsing an apology as she recalled her heated interaction with Joel earlier.
Patrick got to his feet and, leaning down, placed a quick peck on her cheek before straightening. ‘Thanks for listening, Allegra. See you around some time.’
‘Be kind to yourself, Patrick. These things take time. Bye.’
Joel wrote up the last of his notes before leaning back in his chair with a tired sigh. He rubbed his face, grimacing at the sound of his palm on his unshaven jaw. His conversation with Anthony Pardle about Tommy Lowe hadn’t been encouraging. There didn’t seem to be much hope but Joel had wanted to make sure he wasn’t allowing his personal feelings get in the way. He had rearranged the shifts so the more experienced nurses were looking after the little boy and he had restricted visitors so that noise and disruption was at a minimum.
He’d even spent some time with the little boy after Anthony had left, sitting by his bed, talking to him, telling him some of the stuff he used to do as a kid.
‘I had a bike, a red one with blue stripes,’ he’d said, holding the boy’s small hand in his. ‘I thought I was pretty cool, riding up and down the street while my brother watched on the sidelines.’
A nurse had come past and he waited until she’d moved on before continuing in a low, urgent tone, ‘Come on, Tommy, you have to do your best,
