pan room, the blue lights of the ambulance flashing past the window as the first of the minibus accident casualties arrived. ‘We’d better get out there.’
Eleanor gave a watery smile. ‘Thanks, Pier, thanks for listening.’
‘Any time,’ Pier said airily. ‘If I can think of anything you can do to improve things, I will tell you on our meal break. I am good at advice.’
‘So am I.’ Eleanor grinned as they headed across the unit. ‘So here’s some—if you don’t want to be giving out bedpans all night, trying saying yes instead of oui!’ She looked at his bemused expression. ‘You’re sending out subliminal messages, Pier. Every time one of the old ducks hears you say wee, they ask for a pan!’
‘You really aren’t just a pretty face after all!’
‘No, Pier,’ Eleanor turned her blue eyes on her new friend and fixed him with a determined glare. ‘And I intend to prove it.’
* * *
As Mary had predicted, the arrival of the rugby team certainly livened the place up, not that it had been quiet before. But once the ambulances started arriving, in no time at all every cubicle, every trolley and every chair was packed to capacity, with staff rushing between them, prioritising patients, commencing treatments, pagers buzzing like unattended alarm clocks as the phones rang ever on. But somehow it was controlled chaos, a team stretched to its limits yet performing impeccably under Mary’s fierce guidance, and for Eleanor, although busy, although more rushed than she’d ever been in her rather short nursing life, it was a night for falling head over heels in love with Emergency.
Real Emergency.
A team working independently at times, but always looking out for each other.
Monitors bleeping, blue lights flashing past, paramedics racing in, even Jim the porter providing invaluable back-up, wheeling patient after patient around to X-Ray, while quietly, in his own unobtrusive way, guiding the junior and new staff, taking Eleanor gently aside time and again and pointing out that Mary preferred portable drip stands to be secured to the trolleys, not IV poles pushed alongside them, that in an unexpected emergency it made transportation easier and that maybe she should give the nebuliser the doctor had just ordered before he wheeled the patient up to the ward.
His advice was invaluable and Eleanor took it with a grateful murmur of thanks, the clock whirring past midnight for the most part unnoticed, the waiting room gradually emptying as they worked their way diligently through the night.
‘I’d like a hand in here, please, Eleanor!’ Mary’s flushed face appeared from the Resus doors. ‘I need you to hold an arm for me.’
Which surely couldn’t be as bad as it sounded!
Entering the hallowed area of Resus, Eleanor longed there and then for a day when this room was familiar to her, when she, like Mary, could glance at the wiggly lines on the monitor with a knowing eye and know, just know, that the patient hadn’t gone into cardiac arrhythmia but instead the red dot attaching the electrode to the patient’s chest must have fallen off.
‘Mr Papadopoulos has had an inferior myocardial infarction. He’s supposed to be going up to Coronary Care now, but he’s not well enough to be moved.’
He certainly didn’t look well enough! His eyes were closed as he struggled just to breathe, a grey, clammy face exhausted against the pillow, and Eleanor stepped forward nervously, unsure what she should do, but Mary didn’t keep her in suspense for very long.
‘I want you to shave his chest and reattach the dots,’ Mary ordered, handing Eleanor the clippers. ‘His drip has just packed in and I need to get IV access quickly.’
With shaking hands Eleanor did as asked, listening intently as Mary told her to rub the skin with alcohol swabs before applying the dots. ‘They’ll stick better,’ she explained, turning her attention back to the useless IV bung she was trying to remove before inserting a new one.
‘Heaven help us, do they teach these doctors nothing in medical school?’ Pulling back the sticky plaster on the man’s arm, she tutted away. ‘Can you ever imagine putting sticky plaster on a man and not shaving him first? I’m sorry, Mr Papadopoulos, so very sorry, dear, but I really need to get this tape off.
‘Now, Eleanor, hold his arm for me while I put another IV in and see how I shave the area before I put a wad of tape on. It might seem like a small detail but when Mr Papadopoulos is ready to have his IV removed, you can be sure he’ll thank us for our foresight.’
‘I’ll remember.’ Eleanor nodded. ‘Is there anything else you need?’
‘Could you ask Vicki to come and check some morphine for me?’
Which shouldn’t have been a problem, but instantly Eleanor felt relegated. She was more than capable of checking controlled drugs, it was part of her job, but yet again Mary seemed intent on treating her like a student. ‘I can check morphine, Mary,’ Eleanor pointed out, quietly grinding her teeth as Mary effectively dismissed her.
‘Just ask Vicki to come in, would you? You get on with emptying those cubicles. How is it going out there?’
‘It’s settling. Just a few more to be patched up and sent home.’
‘Good lass.’ Mary nodded. ‘Save cubicle one for me, mind. I’ll come and see him when I’m done in here. If you could just find Vicki for me and ask her to come in, that would be grand.’
‘We’re nearly there.’ Pier gave a tired smile as Eleanor came out. ‘I must have a drink or you’ll be treating me for a faint. Vicki said to sort out our breaks between us—do you want to go first?’
‘You go,’ Eleanor offered, knowing Pier was just being polite. ‘I’ll just finish up here.’
‘There’s nothing to do.’ Pier shrugged. ‘Everything is under control. Mary said to leave cubicle one for her—he just needs some strapping and a tetanus injection, which I’ve already pulled up. Agnes is just sleeping it off in between asking for bedpans and the toddler in cubicle two just needs the doctor to listen to his chest now that his nebuliser is finished, then hopefully his parents can take him home.’
‘Then go.’ Eleanor grinned. ‘Even I can manage that lot.’
It felt strange, being left alone in the department. Not that she was really alone, there were a few patients still around, a few doctors writing their notes up at the desk and the rest of the staff were bobbing in and out of various cubicles. But, standing at the nurses’ station, Eleanor couldn’t help but feel a bit smugly important, as well as nervous in case anything should come flying through the doors and she would, temporarily at least, be the one to deal with it.
‘How much longer will he have to wait?’ A ruddy-faced rugby player popped his head around the curtain and Eleanor made her way over, pulling out the casualty card from the clipboard.
‘Shouldn’t be long.’ Eleanor peered at the card. ‘He just needs some strapping and a tetanus shot.’
She expected an argument, after all she was just standing there, but instead the man disappeared behind the curtain and Eleanor listened with increasing impatience as the drunken guffaws got louder.
‘How long will the doctor be?’ The father
