Chapter Nine
It was time to do something about Ann Mallon. Jenny had called on the ward to see the girl a couple of times, now she asked the ward sister if Ann could come over for a coffee and a talk.
'I think she could be good,' the ward sister said. 'Don't be too hard on her.'
'I won't. I suspect she's too hard on herself.'
Ann knocked on her door live minutes later. At first she was defensive, saying very little. Jenny had decided to be calm with the student, to try and reinforce the good things that she had done. Ann seemed to be suffering from a crippling sense of her own inadequacy.
'I've been thinking about giving up the course,' she said. 'I'll be just no good as a midwife.'
Jenny leafed through the notes on her desk. 'You've passed every exam, every test so far,' she pointed out. 'It seems a pity to get this far and then give it all up. Don't you like the work?'
Ann burst into tears. 'I just can't forget it,' she sobbed. 'I thought I'd got it right at last, I was really enjoying myself, and then, and then... I didn't notice and that woman nearly died.'
'But she didn't,' Jenny said. 'All right, you made a mistake. But we work in a system that means that mistakes can be corrected. That woman now has a beautiful baby, partly thanks to you. Now, you say you were enjoying yourself before it happened?'
'I was. I was happy.'
'Have you felt that way since?'
'Never,' said Ann.
'Let's see if we can do something about that. Come on, we're going to the delivery suite.'
Angela Lamb was in the second stage of labour. All seemed to be going well. This was to be her third child and she seemed as delighted with the prospect as her husband was. This should be a perfect, trouble-free birth.
The midwife in charge was Lucy Stephens. Jenny nodded to herself. Lucy was just the midwife she needed for what he had in mind.
Ann was still a student so the mother's permission had to be asked for her—and for Jenny—to be present. And to assist.
'No problem,' gasped Angela. 'The more the merrier.'
Ann and Jenny were introduced to the father, who was sitting there holding his wife's hands. He smiled vaguely and Jenny realised he hadn't even realised that she was in a wheelchair.
Angela had opted not to have an epidural, had been pushing for perhaps an hour in time with the contractions. The birth was now imminent.
Jenny wheeled herself well back out of the way. She couldn't count the number of births she had seen but she still felt the magic of this moment, could share in the emotion of the parents. There were tears running down the face of the husband.
But Jenny was here to observe Ann and she saw conflicting emotions. There was fear there certainly, but also delight.
'I can see the head,' Lucy called. 'Not long now, Angela. Keep pushing till I tell you.'
Jenny saw Ann reach up, wipe Angela's face and smile at her encouragingly.
'Right, Angela. Don't push any more. Just pant. The baby's coming, just pant.'
The baby's head was born. From somewhere Ann seemed to have found all the confidence she needed. She cleaned the baby's face, aspirated mucus from nose, mouth and throat. Then she watched as the shoulders rotated.
Angela was asked to push again. Ann drew the baby's head downwards, delivered the anterior shoulder. All straightforward now. Angela was given an injection of Syntometrine after the baby was fully delivered.
'A little girl,' cried Lucy. The cord was clamped.
Lucy let Ann wrap the baby in a warm blanket and hand her to her mother.
Jenny decided that Ann didn't need her any longer. Quietly, she left the room. There was plenty of work for Ann still to do, but Lucy would keep an eye on her and Jenny was confident that she'd do well.
A couple of hours later Ann came to her room. 'Lucy said I did well,' she said.
'I thought you did well. Did you enjoy it?'
'I was nervous at first. Of course, I knew what to do, and I've done it before but... today was special.' Then she said in a stronger voice, 'You took me there to boost my confidence, didn't you?' This was already a new Ann.
Carefully, Jenny said, 'I thought you needed reminding of the skills you have and the pleasure that being a midwife can bring. Still thinking about leaving the course?'
'No, 'said Ann.
'Then you'd better get back to work.'
Jenny had helped Ann Mallon, then she managed to lose herself in more work for a few hours. And she had been with Mike. But when it was time to go home she found herself still depressed. And Mike had to stay behind for an extra couple of hours, there was a case he was needed for.
'I'll be all right,' she told him. 'I'll get a taxi home.'
She had determined to use taxis as much as possible. No way was she going to have Mike dancing attendance on her. He had his job to do. And, besides, she was determined to hang on to her independence. And she'd become quite friendly with a few of the taxi drivers.
Once at her block of flats she collected the mail from the box in the entrance hall. Typical medical mail—a vast number of promotional letters, catalogues and so on, most of which would go straight into the bin. She went up to the flat, put the letters on the kitchen table and made herself a cup of tea.
A quick sort through the letters and she'd start preparing the evening meal.
There was a letter from London, the address in a confident script. Jenny knew at once who it was from, and looked at it rather doubtfully.
Jenny's life at her London hospital had ended up a mess. She had come to this northern city to a new job, and in it had found a kind of therapy. Because she was so frantically busy she didn't have time to brood over what had happened. And she didn't want male companionship, which was a good thing because she didn't have time for it.
She had cut almost all ties with her old life. Only, one old friend still kept in touch—Abby Ainsworth. Abby had been a support to her, a source of strength when she'd needed it. And they now wrote to each other about once a month.
She felt worse when she opened the letter. I know you probably don't want to hear about him, Abby wrote, but perhaps you ought to know that Peter Murphy is back at the hospital. He's come back from America. He's got a big brassy wife who's a nurse and he seems thoroughly under her thumb. She doesn't like England and tells him all the time. Peter's got fat and is idle and whines all the time about the poor equipment we have here. You had a lucky escape from him. He's never once mentioned you... The rest of the letter was pleasant and gossipy but Jenny was just not in the mood.
For a while she stayed by the window, staring at the passing ships. Then she went to the kitchen and slowly prepared the evening meal.
Mike arrived a couple of hours later. He kissed her, then immediately realised something was wrong. 'Are you still worried about the meeting with Spenser, sweetheart?'
She shook her head, silently passed him the letter. He read it.
'Peter Murphy was the man you had trouble with?' he said.
'He was. Even though I hated him I used to think about him a lot. But recently—since I met you—I've stopped. You've wiped him out. In my mind I can put the two of you side by side, compare you. And I wonder how I ever could have fancied him.'
Mike led her into the sitting room, helped her out of the wheelchair and placed her easily on the couch. Then he sat next to her, put an arm around her.
'I knew he existed but you've never talked about him,' he said. 'Is now a good time perhaps?'
Perhaps it was a good time. Perhaps she could lay her ghosts.
'Well, he was fanciable,' she said. 'At least I thought he was at the time. He was a bit older, he was a doctor, he made a play for me and we finished up going out together. Then we lived together. We shared the costs of a flat in London.'
Jenny shook her head. 'Mike, I thought we were happy together. But it wasn't like with you. I just didn't know what happiness was. We never talked about marriage but—for me at least—it was a vaguely underst
ood thing.'
His arm was still around her, his voice encouraging. 'So what happened?'
'I was doing an MA in midwifery, the one that enabled me to come here, as well as working fulltime as a midwife. Peter got the offer of a four-year contract in America and he wanted to start at once, wanted me to go with him. I said I wanted to wait nine months and finish my course. I'd completed two years of it already and it was the hardest work I'd ever done. He said it wasn't important. He needed someone to look after him in America. He needed me now, I wasn't to be selfish. He wanted me to drop everything for him.'
'Sounds like a man who knows his own mind,' said Mike, 'even if he doesn't care for anyone else's.'
'Quite! Well, I said I'd finish my course and then come out to him. And he got very nasty. I think then I started to wonder about him. But then I had a fortnight away, a specialised bit of training up in Birmingham. I tried to phone him and couldn't get through. And when I came back he had gone. He'd emptied all his stuff out of the flat. Taken some of my things. The place was dirty and he'd left me with all the bills. Just a scrawled note that since we couldn't get on he thought a clean break best. Not even a forwarding address.'
'Did you ever hear from him again?'
'Obviously he didn't want me to get in touch. But I got a home telephone number for him with the help of someone in the hospital office. And I phoned him. A woman answered, asked me if I was the pathetic little thing that had been hanging on to him, he'd told her all about me. Mike, this was after only three weeks! And she said I had to forget him, that they were together now.'
'You had a lucky escape,' Mike said after a while.
'Yes. I can see that now. But I can't forget that I thought we were happy. And we were, until he didn't get his own way.'
'Are you worried that that will happen to us?'
'Of course not! But I'm scared. I wonder that if... if things don't go well, and I'm in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, in time you might feel trapped.'
'It won't happen,' he said. 'You've brought me more happiness than I thought possible. And it's you I love—all of you, not just your legs.'
Jenny managed a weak smile. 'Well, I still want my own way. We wait.'
The physiotherapist had told her that after a while in the wheelchair she was likely to feel depressed but it would pass. She had had one episode of depression immediately after being discharged, but now the depression seemed to return. As a midwife, she had met many cases of postnatal depression, knew it was apparently without cause, and in time that, too, usually passed. But this knowledge didn't help her. Her world remained grey. But she wouldn't give in! She was tough. Still, she wondered just how much she was fooling Mike.
Four days later she and Mike were invited to dinner with Sue, Harry and Sam.
'I'm going to enjoy this,' she told Mike, 'and we'll have to have them back here soon. You can cook something Mexican again.'
'Can I wear my sombrero and serape again?'
'No,' she said.
She had hoped that the anticipation of the meal would cheer her up. But it didn't. And she still couldn't hide what she was feeling from Mike.
'We don't have to go if you're not up to it,' he said gently. 'You know they'll understand.'
'I'm not going to give way to it,' she said fiercely. 'I've got to fight. I'll be all right once I get there.'
So she took particular care as she prepared for the evening. She wore a cream trouser suit she had bought with Sue, and she wore the green medallion Mike had given her. And her efforts were not in vain. The evening was a success and she found herself enjoying every minute.
As a special treat Sam was allowed to stay up for a while and have his own place at the table. Jenny had come to love him. She had wondered... just wondered... what it would be like to have a child of her own.
Harry told them of his experiences overseas, what medicine was like in the army. He and Mike compared notes on trying to treat people who had no knowledge of English. Sue talked about life in A and E. It was a good evening.
The phone rang and Sue went out to answer it. She came back, a doubtful expression on her face, and gave the portable handset to Jenny.
'It's for you,' she said. 'It's your surgeon, Mr Spenser.'
The others at the table stood, made to leave so Jenny could make her call in private. Impatiently she waved them to sit down. She had no secrets from her friends.
'I'm sorry to interrupt your social gathering,' Mr Spenser said apologetically. 'In fact, I've been phoning around to try to find you. You remember I said I wanted to show your case notes to an American professor? Well, he was very interested. He's come back up here with me for a couple of days. Could you—would you like him to examine you tomorrow morning? It's your choice but I think it a very good idea.'
'Of course he can examine me.'
'Things might be progressing a bit faster than I had thought,' Mr Spenser said. 'I'll see you in my rooms at nine tomorrow.' He rang off.
Jenny told the others what she had just heard. 'What does it mean?' asked Sue.
'I'm frightened,' said Jenny. 'I don't know whether to be happy or worried.'
Mike put his arm around her. 'Everything will be all right,' he said.
But the atmosphere had changed. They talked about what might or might not happen, agreed they had no facts. And then they left rather early, Jenny promising to phone as soon as she had any news.
They went to bed as soon as they got back to the flat. 'Put your arms around me and just hold me,' said Jenny. 'I want you to just hold me.'
In the night, when she woke, she found his arms still around her.
This time Mike insisted on coming with her. They made arrangements to see Mr Spenser together. And they met the American professor.
Jenny liked Professor Dunkel. He was the complete opposite of the tall thin Mr Spenser. He was short, broad, with massive shoulders. He wore a bow tie—with a Union Jack on it! With a great grin he told her that he wore it to remind him he was in a foreign country.
'I gather you're a midwife, so I can talk to you,' he said. 'You know the score. And this must be Dr Donovan. Aren't you the lucky one to be engaged to a gorgeous creature like this?'
Not a British professor, Jenny thought with a secret grin.
'Now, I'd like you to be looked at and pulled and prodded and so on again. I know you've just been through all this with Mr Spenser here, but I really want to see for myself. That OK? There's a nurse waiting for you next door.'
'Of course,' said Jenny.
It seemed to be a very similar examination to the one she had had before with Mr Spenser. Perhaps the professor spent more time touching her legs, constantly referring to the illuminated X-rays on the wall and the MRI and CT scans. Then he smiled and said, 'That wasn't too bad, was it? Get dressed again and I'll go and have a couple of words with Mr Spenser. We'll be in to see you.'
She sat with Mike. They held hands but she just didn't feel like talking. After about a quarter of an hour, Mr Spenser and Professor Dunkel came in to see them. They looked unusually solemn.
Mr Spenser spoke first. 'This ultimately must be your decision. I've already explained that perhaps in time things might improve in your legs. But they might not. Another operation would mean another stay in hospital, more pain and discomfort. However, I've conferred with Professor Dunkel here, we've reviewed your case notes and he suggests that an operation might be a good idea. In America he's developed a new technique which is not yet available in this country, he might be able to restore movement to your legs. He is here and he's willing to demonstrate the technique to me. But you must decide if you want to try it. The operation would be performed jointly by the Professor and myself.'
'One thing, Jenny,' the Professor said. 'I think we can do it. But if we're unsuccessful you might be a lot worse than you already are.'
'Could I wake up even more paralysed?'
'It's unlikely. It's not entirely impossible.'
'When would you want
to do it?' Jenny asked.
'I have to get back to the States. So in two days' time.'
Jenny looked at Mike, who nodded. 'I'll arrange sick leave,' said Jenny. 'I don't need time to think about it. I'll have it done.'
He'd tried not to show it, but for some time now Mike had been worried about Jenny. She was still depressed, still low. She said nothing as they made their way back to her department. When he tried to be cheerful, said there was hope now, she merely snapped, 'Nothing at all has changed.' And when she got to her room, she said that she'd rather he didn't call round for lunch that day. She had a lot of work to get through.
She didn't even seem to be excited—or afraid—when she realised that her fate would be settled in just two days' time. It seemed it was just a minor irritation in an already dreary world. He hated it when she was this way, but there was nothing that he could do.
And he knew that deep down she was terrified.
He was terrified himself. If the worst happened, he did not know how she would cope with the prospect of being in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
One thing he did know, one thing he was absolutely certain of—wheelchair or not, he wanted to be with her. For the rest of his life.
Could he convince her of that? He knew her doubts. He remembered his earlier uneasy suspicion that if she was told her condition was incurable she would refuse to marry him. Out of love and regard for him. She wouldn't want him to be tied to a woman who was condemned to live her life in a wheelchair. And however much he protested that he wanted to marry her anyway, she would ignore him.
And there was another thing, perhaps a matter of male pride. If he waited until after the operation and it was a success and then he asked her to marry him, she might wonder. Would he have asked her had she still been in a wheelchair?
Mike found himself getting angry. All he had to do was wait; there was nothing he could do. And he hated waiting, feeling powerless.
Two days to go. Then he grinned to himself. A lot could happen in two days.
Jenny felt that all the heart had gone out of her. She knew what it was, of course. Depression, a reaction—possibly physiological—to stress. But knowing what it was didn't make it any easier to bear. She knew that she could ask for antidepressant drugs, they'd worked for her before. But she wouldn't. She could hang on for a few days more.
A Very Special Midwife Page 13
