anxious about Dan. He’s not been well for the last few weeks, but he wouldn’t come and see you. Today he seems really ill, and I’ve said if he didn’t come now, while he was in Braithwaite at the market, I’d throw his cigarettes away—and I meant it!’
Dan Wetherby shook his head, unable to speak, and Victoria got up and warmed her stethoscope in her hands. ‘I think I’d better examine you, although I can hear your breathing’s not good even before I look at you. Let’s undo your shirt.’
‘Susan’s just fussing—there’s nowt to worry about,’ he wheezed, and was convulsed by a racking cough.
‘I’m not fussing,’ protested his wife. ‘I knew your mother, Doctor—she’s such a lovely woman—and she said months ago he was to come for a check-up. She even came round to see him, but he’s that stubborn…’
Victoria waited until Dan stopped coughing and then put her stethoscope on his chest, front and back, listening intently. It sounded bad, as she had known it would, crackles and wheezes in all zones, and his heartbeat was very fast. The couple watched her face anxiously, trying to read from her expression what the diagnosis would be.
She put the stethoscope on the desk and folded her hands in front of her. ‘You know yourself you’ve got a very bad chest, Mr Wetherby. How long have you been like this?’
‘Weeks,’ said his wife. ‘I begged him to come and see you, but he wouldn’t—the obstinate old fool.’
‘Can’t leave the farm,’ wheezed Dan.
Victoria took a deep breath—she knew he wouldn’t like what she was going to say next. ‘You aren’t well, Mr Wetherby,’ she said gently. ‘Your lungs aren’t working as they should and I can hear all sorts of crackles. You need immediate hospitalisation to relieve your symptoms.’
‘Can’t you give me an antibiotic?’ he whispered. ‘That’s what I had last time I had an infection.’
Victoria nodded. ‘You certainly need antibiotics, but the hospital will give them intravenously to make them work more effectively, and in any case until you have a CT scan and a sputum test, we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with…and we can’t give you those procedures here.’
‘I can’t go to bloody hospital… I won’t…’
Susan clasped her hands together and looked across at Victoria. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ she said quietly.
‘As I say, I can’t tell exactly what’s going on until tests have been done—and that has to be done quickly, and in hospital.’
Dan struck his stick on the floor. ‘I’m not going—not without another opinion. Think of all the stuff I’ve got to do at the farm…’
Victoria looked at Dan’s stubborn expression and sighed. Perhaps he felt he was giving in to his illness if he did what she advised. ‘Look,’ she said with an encouraging smile, ‘what about if I asked Dr Saunders to look at you? If he confirms what I think, would you go then?’
‘Might do,’ he muttered.
‘Oh, yes, you will, Dan Wetherby.’ His wife looked at her husband fiercely. ‘I’m not having another night like last night, with you hardly able to breathe for that cough. We’ll see Dr Saunders as well, just to hammer home that he needs to go to hospital.’
‘I won’t be a minute, then. I’ll just see if he’s still here.’
Victoria went to the office to find out if Connor had started on his home visits or was still in surgery. He was sitting in front of the computer, peering earnestly at the screen and making notes.
‘Connor, can I have a word?’
He swung round. ‘Ah, Freckles…I mean Victoria. Don’t tell me you need help already?’
Victoria looked at him coldly. ‘Ha, ha. Very funny. Yes, I would like your help—and not because I don’t know what’s wrong with the patient,’ she said defensively.
‘I’m sure you do,’ Connor remarked lightly.
She ignored his remark and continued. ‘Mr Wetherby has chronic airway disease, very tachypnoeaic with widespread respiratory wheeze. I believe he should be admitted immediately for tests and therapy, but he’s adamant he won’t go until he has a second opinion, so…’
‘You’d like me to come and look at him?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Only too happy to oblige a colleague. Lead me to him.’
They went into Victoria’s room and she introduced Connor to the anxious-looking couple. ‘Dr Saunders will examine you, Mr Wetherby, and I know he’ll give an unbiased opinion on what should be the course of action,’ she explained.
‘Good morning, Mr and Mrs Wetherby.’ Connor gave them a charming smile and shook Dan’s hand, then drew up a chair to sit in front of them. ‘I believe you’ve been having some chest trouble. Dr Curtis tells me this has been worrying you for quite a while—am I right?’
His voice was kind and gentle, and the elderly couple, who had tensed noticeably as he’d come into the room, relaxed again. Victoria looked at him cynically. He could turn on the charm if he wanted to—his sympathetic manner showed a sensitivity she’d never experienced from him herself, she reflected.
Connor sat down in front of Dan, bending his head forward as he concentrated on the sounds coming through the stethoscope on the man’s chest. After a minute or two he looked up at Victoria.
‘Tachycardic and definite signs of consolidation at the left base,’ he murmured to her. Then added, ‘What was your advice?’
‘I think Mr Wetherby needs to go to hospital for immediate tests, nebulisers and intravenous antibiotics.’
Connor nodded and stood up, folding his arms judiciously. ‘I completely agree—no good pussyfooting around here.’ He looked at the old man and his wife. ‘Your chest is bad, and I can only see it getting worse, whatever we give you here. I think Dr Curtis has no alternative but to get you to St Hilda’s immediately.’ He added gently, to take the sting from his words, ‘You’ll feel so much better when you’ve had some treatment, believe me.’
Dan looked from one doctor to the other, then gave a sigh. ‘Well, nowt for it, then. If you both think I should go, I’ll have to do it. Mother, you’ll have to get our Barry down from his place to give us a hand with the milking.’
‘I’ll do that,’ promised his wife, ‘when I’ve got you to the hospital.’
‘I’m sending for an ambulance, Mrs Wetherby,’ said Victoria. ‘I want him to be started on oxygen as soon as possible, and the paramedics will give him that. Perhaps you’d like to follow him in your car.’ She picked up the phone. ‘I’ll also speak to the registrar on the chest ward—we want things to get moving as soon as possible.’
Suddenly the Wetherbys looked very vulnerable and bewildered—events had moved too quickly for them and they were in shock, gazing blankly at each other. Connor started to explain to them what was likely to happen in the hospital, his voice a low reassuring murmur. The phone
