she was dismayed to find that although there were a few, none fitted her UK plug. Mildly put out, she towel dried it instead, before plaiting it into a thick braid. She would simply have to learn to adapt as best she could to her new environment. After all, she thought with some longing, she was unlikely to find all the conveniences of her home city several hours’ drive into the African bush. Nevertheless, she thought with exasperation, there were some things she couldn’t possibly be expected to do without, and a hairdryer was one of them!
Following the footpath that led from her cottage, she entered the rear of the hospital where most of the wards were situated on different sides of a long passageway. She stepped into the first room on her right through double swing doors and was greeted warmly by a smiling Sister Ngoba, the night sister whom she’d met the previous evening and who was now busy writing up reports before handing over to the day staff. As Kirsty’s eyes roamed the length of the ward, she was surprised to see a familiar head bent over the bed of a female patient whose leg was in traction. When he looked up she could see the stubble darkening his jaw and the fatigue shadowing his eyes.
‘Kirsty?’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘You don’t need to be on duty until tomorrow. Everyone needs a day to settle in.’
‘I know. I wanted to check up on how our patients from the accident yesterday were doing. And I’m longing to get started. I don’t need a day off. Anyway, you’re on duty,’ she challenged.
He smiled tiredly. ‘But I’m meant to be on duty.’
‘You haven’t been up all night, have you?’
‘Almost, but not quite,’ he said, wryly thinking that the hour’s sleep he’d managed to get hadn’t been nearly enough.
‘Thank you for your help yesterday, by the way, and a belated welcome to the team. You’ll meet everyone later.’
‘I look forward to that.’ She paused to smile hello at the patient Greg had been examining. It was the young woman whose tibia and fibula had been badly crushed by the overturned minibus. Lydia, her eyes cloudy with painkillers, managed a weak smile in return, before closing her eyes.
‘How’s our patient?’ Kirsty asked quietly.
‘I think we’ve managed to save her leg. Once I’m sure she’s stable, I’ll arrange to send her to one of the hospitals in the city. They have better equipment than we do, as well as access to physio. For cases like this we patch them up, stabilise them and then send them on.’ He smiled down at the girl and said something to her that Kirsty couldn’t understand.
‘You speak the language?’ Kirsty asked impressed.
‘One or two of them—there are around fifteen different languages or dialects in this country, but I know the ones that are spoken in this neck of the woods. I find it’s pretty useful for communicating with my patients.’ He stretched, working the kinks out of his muscles. ‘But obviously you’ll need a nurse or an assistant to help you translate when there are patients who don’t speak English.’ Kirsty made a mental note to try and master as much of the language as she could. She had learned a few words before coming out, mainly greetings, but intended to learn more.
‘I’m just telling Lydia that the morphine that we’ve given her is what’s making her sleepy. She’ll probably be out for the count for the rest of the day,’ Greg explained, and sure enough Lydia had closed her eyes and seemed to have already succumbed to the sedating effects of the drug. Kirsty and Greg moved away from the bed.
‘I also hoped for a tour of the rest of the hospital. I’m really keen to see it all.’
Greg wrapped his stethoscope around his neck. ‘I could show you later,’ he replied.
‘Please, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ve got enough to do. One of the nursing sisters can—or, if everyone’s busy, I can see myself around. I won’t get in anyone’s way—I promise. But first I need a cup of coffee! I haven’t had any yet and I’m a bit of a caffeine junkie.’
Greg hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘Damn, I’m sorry about that. I meant to organise some provisions for you yesterday but with everything going so crazy here, it completely slipped my mind.’ His sheepish grin was contrite. ‘I’m almost finished the ward rounds so if you can hold on, I’ll show you the dining room. Then unfortunately I’m due in Outpatients so I’ll have to leave you to your own devices.’
‘I’ll come with you to Outpatients, if that’s OK. I’d really like to get stuck in as soon as possible. A coffee and toast will do me until lunch,’ she said.
Greg looked at her appraisingly. Kirsty couldn’t help notice how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. But even when relaxed there was a presence about the man, an animal-like energy that seemed to fill the room.
‘We could do with the help. Jamie and Sarah are in Theatre this morning and Jenny is anaesthetising for them, so quick rounds, followed by coffee and Outpatients it is.’ He went on, ‘This, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, is the female surgical ward.’ He moved to the next bed. ‘You recognise this young lady?’
It was the woman who had had the femoral bleed, Maria. A quick look at her chart told Kirsty that she was stable.
‘I take it if she’s not in Intensive Care, she’s going to be all right?’
‘We had her in surgery most of the night, but it looks hopeful. Once we’re sure she can tolerate the journey, we’ll send her by ambulance to one of the teaching hospitals in the city. They’ll be able to take it from there.’
‘And Lydia’s little boy? Where is he?’ asked Kirsty, suddenly remembering.
‘He’s in the paediatric ward for the time being. There was nowhere else to put him. He’s been driving the staff crazy with his loud wailing. He won’t be consoled. We’d let him see his mother if she looked a little less frightening. Can’t you hear him?’
And Kirsty did, faintly. She found herself moving in the direction of his cries.
‘Any relatives we can contact?’
‘No one’s come forward to claim him but it’s early still. When the mother surfaces properly, we’ll get more information.’
‘I think he should see her,’ she said firmly.
‘Would that be wise?’
‘He’s, what…about two years old? Old enough for some understanding. I think he needs to feel his mother’s still alive, even though she’s “sleeping”.’
‘It might make things worse. Surely it’s better to wait until she’s alert enough to reassure him herself?’ he suggested.
‘How could anything be worse for him than what it is now? He’s not crying just because he’s miserable and wants to make a loud noise. He’s crying for his mother, and he can’t understand why she’s not coming. In his mind she’s abandoned him.’
‘If you’re sure…’
‘I’m not sure. It depends on his ability to comprehend. But he seemed so well cared-for I’m willing to take a gamble… Besides, I do know a thing or two about children.’ Kirsty felt the familiar crushing pain as she said the words. She ignored Greg’s searching glance
