‘It’s better to do the transfer at the same time than delay. That way we can be sure we’re matching things up as well as possible and can attach nerves and blood vessels more accurately. The surgery itself is long. It could take between eight and twelve hours.’
‘The rehab is long, too,’ Abby warned. ‘To get a good result you have to be willing to face some pretty rigorous and time-consuming therapy. There’s six weeks to allow for bones to heal. We’ll be doing therapy during that period, of course, to keep everything mobile, but the really intense work will start after that.’
‘How long did it take for that chap?’ Steve pointed at the first photo Abby had shown them. Till he got back to his work on the farm?’
‘Six months,’ she told him. ‘And he had really good sensation in his thumb and enough range of movement and strength to do most of the things he needed to do in his job.’
Steve closed his eyes and lay back against his pillow. ‘I dunno,’ he muttered. ‘It just seems...really weird. It’s doing my head in.’
‘I understand.’ Noah got to his feet. ‘We’ll leave you to think about it. Maybe write down any worries or questions you might come up with and we’ll talk again later. I’ll come and see you tomorrow morning before my ward round. Or you can page me anytime and I’ll come as soon as I’m free.’
‘I’ll be available too,’ Abby promised. ‘Though I’m sure Mr Baxter will be able to answer a lot more questions than I can.’
She could feel Steve watching he as she turned her chair and headed for the door. Could he see how important her thumb was, perhaps?
Maybe Noah was watching her as well and thinking along the same lines.
‘Keep in mind that the thumb is the most debilitating digit to lose as far as hand function is concerned,’ he said quietly. ‘And that the benefits of a toe transfer far outweigh the risks.’
Noah walked with Abby as she headed back to her office.
‘I’ve got an outpatient clinic starting in fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘Maybe I can scrounge a cup of coffee in your staffroom?’
‘Of course. You’re as much a part of the staff of the hand clinic as anyone else.’
She showed him where to find the mugs and the biscuit tin when they arrived back in her small corner of this large hospital. ‘Do you think Steve will agree to the surgery?’
‘I hope so.’ Noah sat down on one of the armchairs in the room. ‘It can take a bit of time to get your head around the concept, though.’ He shifted a bag on the low table between chairs to have a space to put his mug.
‘Oh...that’s mine,’ Abby said. ‘I wondered where that had got to.’
He handed her the bag, frowning as the blunt point of a thick needle pierced the plastic.
‘I’m learning to knit,’ Abby explained. ‘And it’s harder than it looks. I suspect I left it in here and forgot about it on purpose.’
Noah was grinning at her.
‘What’s funny?’
‘The idea of you knitting,’ he said.
‘I’m about to become an aunty. I thought maybe I should learn how to make a pair of booties or something. I know...’ she made a face. ‘It’s not really me, is it? I know it’s got trendy but I still feel like I’m doing old-lady stuff.’
‘It does seem about as likely as... I don’t know...me playing wheelchair basketball.’
‘That wouldn’t be a strange thing to do. You’d love it.’
‘But I’m not in a wheelchair.’
‘You don’t have to be, apart from when you’re playing. Able-bodied people are allowed.’
‘Really?’
‘Why not?’ Abby shrugged. ‘The wheelchair is just a tool. Like using ice skates or a bicycle or something.’
‘But it doesn’t seem fair. Don’t able-bodied people have an advantage?’
Abby smiled. ‘No. They just think they do—until they have a go. The only difference is that they have higher points.’ It was time she went back to her office and reviewed patient files for the people she would be working with for the rest of the day but stealing a few minutes to keep talking to Noah was irresistible.
‘Players get classified according to their level of disability,’ she explained. ‘The total number of points allowed on the court at any time, adding up the five players, is fourteen. It’s all about control of trunk movement. If you have little or no control, you score one point zero. If you have complete control in all directions, you score four point five. As an able-bodied person, you’d score four point five.’
‘How much do you score?’
‘I’m a four point five, too,’ Abby told him. ‘My spinal injury was low lumbar so I’m really very lucky. I even got to avoid the total lack of bladder and bowel control that most paraplegics have to deal with.’ She bit her lip at the expression on Noah’s face. ‘Sorry...too much information?’
‘No...not at all.’ Noah was smiling now. ‘I was just thinking that I might like to try the basketball—especially in weather like this when it’s too wet to be pleasant getting out for a run. If you didn’t set out to wipe the floor with me, that is.’
‘Come along, then.’ The idea that Noah might want to join in the sport she loved so much was making Abby feel astonishingly happy. ‘Tomorrow’s a training session and newbies are always welcome. It’s friendly and relaxed. I’ll send you the address for the gym and you can use one of the extra sports chairs that are stored there.’
* * *
‘You said this would be relaxing.’ Noah could feel his soaked shirt sticking to his back and he knew the muscles in his arms were going to be complaining tomorrow.
‘I said relaxed, not relaxing.’ Abby was waiting for the moment he lost control of the ball as he tried to bounce it and move his chair at the same time. She swooped as soon as he did and then she was off, showing him how it was done as she rolled almost the full length of the court before taking aim and scoring a goal.
He could use both hands to propel the chair now and the physical effort was actually very welcome. This was far more interesting than simply going for a run because he needed to use his brain as well as his body. The effort involved was also exactly what he’d needed after a frustrating end to his day. Steve had decided against the toe transfer and wasn’t ready to sign a consent form for an amputation either. He was upset and miserable and refusing to talk to anyone, including his wife. When Abby had arrived for his therapy session she’d been told, very rudely, to “get lost”.
Not that she’d taken it personally. ‘I’ll try again tomorrow,’ she’d told Noah. ‘We’ll win in the end, you’ll see. I’m going to have a quiet word with Pauline and see if we can work together to persuade him that it’s the best thing to do.
He was feeling a lot more optimistic himself now, as if Abby’s determination and confidence was contagious. Although she’d just demonstrated that she was far more capable than him, she hadn’t wiped the floor with him as he’d had his first go at her sport. Like her teammates, she’d been patient. And generous. And the amount of laughter on court had been even more contagious.
Noah hadn’t felt this good in what felt like for ever. He knew he was beaming as he finally unstrapped his legs and got out of the chair.
Abby rolled up beside him. ‘What’s the verdict?’
‘Great exercise, in good company, with so much fun thrown in? What’s not to love?’
‘This weather?’ Abby had to raise her voice to be heard over the sudden drumming of hail on the roof of the gymnasium. A crack of thunder a few seconds later made her groan. ‘I hope it stops before we get to the car park. It’s times like this I’m envious of people who get to hold an umbrella and run and jump into their cars as fast as possible.’
‘I’ve got a massive umbrella in my car. If it’s still raining, I can help—with the chair or something?’
The offer was matter-of
-fact and wasn’t making any assumptions about what Abby was, or was not, capable of managing for herself. It reminded Abby of their first meeting. That, while he might recognise that something was more difficult for her, he saw her before he saw a disabled woman.
‘That would be great. It’ll probably blow over by the time we’re out of the showers but, in the time-honoured tradition of welcoming newbies, I’d be happy to shout you a beer in the local pub.’
The storm hadn’t blown over by the time Abby found Noah waiting for her by the main doors of the gym. If anything, it was worse. His umbrella was threatening to blow inside out and she barely heard her phone ringing over the noise of the heavy rain. She stayed under the shelter of the foyer to answer the call when she saw it was her brother-in-law’s number. Hugh might talk to her on Lisa’s phone but he never called himself. The beat of alarm intensified when she heard a voice she didn’t recognise on the other end of the line.
‘Who is this?’ Abby demanded. ‘And why have you got Hugh’s phone?’
Noah’s glance was sharp. Nobody could have missed the level of anxiety in her tone.
‘I’m Greg, one of the consultants in ED. Hugh threw his phone to me and asked me to call. He’s just rushed upstairs to Maternity with Lisa.’
‘Oh, my God...what’s happened? Is she okay? Is the baby okay?’
‘They’re fine. The baby’s just decided to arrive early, that’s all. In fact, it might have been born in the lift. Lisa was asking for you...’
‘Oh...no... If you can, tell her I’m on my way.’ Abby didn’t wait for Noah to hold his umbrella over her as she propelled herself outside. ‘It’s Lisa,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘She’s in labour. I’ve got to get to the hospital.’
‘What about your other chair?’ Noah was struggling to keep his umbrella the right way out as he caught up with her.
‘Coach will sort it. There’s plenty of room for storage.’ Abby’s car was in one of the first parking spaces but, as she approached, her heart sank like a stone.
‘No...not now. Please...not now...’
Her rear tyre was as flat as a pancake. Noah had the umbrella over her head but enough rain was being blown sideways to feel miserably cold. For one horrible, scary moment Abby had no idea what to do. Noah, however, was completely calm.
‘My SUV,’ he said. ‘You won’t even need to fold up your chair. It’ll fit into the back, no problem. We’ll sort your car later.’
The only relief that could be bigger than not having to think of a way out of this problem would be to know that both Lisa and the baby were fine. Abby was more than happy to let Noah take charge. She transferred herself into his passenger seat with a bit of extra effort because it was higher than the seats in her car and strapped herself in as Noah stowed the chair in the back. He drove as swiftly as the appalling conditions allowed and then they reversed the procedure and made a dash from the parking building to the hospital entrance. Even well inside the huge building, they could still hear the crack of fresh thunder as they reached the bank of elevators. There was certainly no missing the way the lights flickered, went out completely and then came back on.
They flickered again as Abby pushed the button for the second floor where Maternity was located and Noah frowned.
‘Might not be safe to use these,’ he said.
‘Isn’t there an emergency generator that comes on if there’s a power outage?’
‘Yes, but it’s prioritised to cover critical areas first, like Theatres and ICU. Might take a while to get to a lift.’
As if to add weight to his warning, the lights flickered again. A security guard was coming down the corridor towards the emergency department.
‘Don’t use the lifts,’ he told them. ‘We don’t want anyone trapped if the power goes out completely.’
Abby shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. His sister was two floors above them and there was no way she could get any closer without using a lift because the only other way up was the stairwell on the far side of the elevators.
Noah had followed her despairing glance. Then he caught Abby’s gaze and it was another one of those silent, fast-as-light exchanges.
I could carry you up the stairs. Is it that important to get there fast?
Yes...it’s the only thing that’s important right now...
* * *
The offer had been impulsive.
Done without thinking about any potential consequences but it was the right thing to do and Noah wasn’t about to second-guess the plan. He called to the security guard, who turned back.
‘Could you find a safe space for a wheelchair for a while? We need to use the stairs.’
‘No worries, mate. I’ll put it in ED Reception.’
He waited while Noah lifted Abby from the chair into his arms and then whisked the chair away. There was certainly no turning back now, although it felt awkward as he bumped the firestop door open with his back and then faced the staircase.
‘You might regret this.’ Abby’s voice sounded as if it was hard to keep her tone light. ‘I’m not exactly a featherweight.’
It wasn’t the weight of Abby in his arms that might make Noah regret his offer. It was far more likely to be the feel of holding a woman this close because...because the last woman he’d held like this had been his wife, Ellen. But it was okay, because this was an emergency and all he had to do was get her to Maternity and then find out where her sister was, and the physical effort, on top of what he’d already done this evening, was enough to drive anything else from his awareness.
Like the way her arms were wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life, and the softness of her breast pressing against his arm. Or that smell of...what was it...something like apple blossom? It had to be her shampoo or soap. Surely nobody’s skin could smell that good naturally?
There was a nurse near the labour ward’s reception desk. ‘Abby? We were told to look out for you. Come with me...’ She took off, without giving Noah the chance to ask if they might have a wheelchair available. He couldn’t exactly slow down and look for one himself either, which meant that when they got to the room Lisa was in, there was nothing for it but to carry Abby inside. Which also meant that Noah was suddenly in a space he really didn’t want to be in—with a young mother sitting on a bed, her husband perched beside her with his arm around her shoulders, looking down to where she was cradling their newborn child in her arms.
He could actually feel the emotion that was taking over Abby. The tension that was exploding into something else. That kind of wonder and joy that had been almost missing for him when he’d first seen his child because he’d been inside such a dark cloud of horror at the same time. He’d felt flashes of it, however. Enough to recognise that Abby was overwhelmed by it now. Enough to know that he didn’t want to be dragged back into his own past like this.
Gently, he put Abby down into the armchair in the room and stepped back, ready to excuse himself and let the family have this special time together. He wasn’t needed any more. Hugh could sort out getting Abby’s chair back and helping to deal with the flat tyre on her car.
But Lisa wanted to thank him for making sure that Abby had got here. And Hugh was taking the tiny bundle out of Lisa’s arms and was giving it to Abby and...the expression on her face was...well, it was so raw and so powerful that the breath caught in his throat. Noah could actually feel his throat tightening so much it was painful and there was a sting at the back of his eyes that he recognised from long ago.
He had to get out. Now. Before he could get sucked into that feeling of loss. Of being confronted with something he’d wanted so much but could now never have. A family of his own. He was aware of something else as well. He could see—and feel—the love between the people in this room and, right now, especially between Abby and the tiny person she was holding in her arms like the most precious thing to ever exist. A
collage of at least a dozen thoughts flashed through his head in the fraction of time it took for him to smile and turn away.
Meeting Abby Phillips and the way she’d made him laugh. Seeing her hair lit up like a halo that day when she had been sitting in the gallery above his operating theatre. That she had known his favourite quote and spoken it with him with such feeling. The fierce determination that was obvious so often but really unleashed on a basketball court but the way it was tempered by generosity and patience.
She was an astonishing person and, in this heart-melting moment, Noah’s only—and fervent—wish was that Abby would never have to suffer the heartbreak of losing someone precious to her, like her sister or that brand-new baby, because she deserved so much more than that. She deserved every happiness that life could possibly provide, in fact.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘HEY...GUESS WHAT?’
Abby looked up to see Noah poking his head around the door of the treatment room. Her patient, sitting beside her at the table, was still staring at her hand as if willing it to move. Abby nodded and put up her index finger, signalling to Noah that she would be able to talk to him in a minute.
‘Try this one, again, Audrey. Relax your fingers and thumb and make an “O” by touching your thumb to your index finger. Straighten your fingers and then touch your middle finger. Straighten again and repeat for each finger. I’ll be back in a sec.’
Turning her chair, she rolled towards Noah, happy to interrupt this session with a patient because it was almost finished anyway but more, because she hadn’t seen him for a couple of days—ever since her niece had arrived so unexpectedly on that stormy night—so she hadn’t had the chance to thank him for his help.
The night was a bit of blur, to be honest, but there were two memories that stood out. One was the feeling of holding that tiny baby in her arms, the astonishing amount of love she could feel for someone she was meeting for the very first time, and the total conviction that to become a mother was most definitely something she wanted in her own future. The other memory...well, that was the way she’d felt when she had been held in someone else’s arms. Noah’s, to be precise.
Saved by Their Miracle Baby Page 5
