by Lucy Clark
“Are you always this difficult to work with?” he asked
Rose stumbled over a stone on the road and felt the warmth of Dave’s hand immediately at her elbow. She shrugged him off, not caring if he thought she was rude. She was hot, dirty and tired from driving for the past two days.
“You should be wearing sensible shoes, not those strappy little fashion things.”
“Well, excuse me,” she said crossly. “I hadn’t planned on assisting in a major trauma retrieval team, and I’ll thank you to keep your comments about the way I dress to yourself.”
“Difficult and snappy. Oh, the next six months are going to be a barrel of laughs.”
Rose glared at him. “Listen, Dave whoever-you-are, I’m hot, uncomfortable and extremely tired. Now, if you want my help, then get…off…my…back.”
Dave was frowning at her. “Let’s get to the hospital,” he said briskly, before striding off toward the ambulance.
What was the matter with him? He was a grown man and one look at Miss High and Mighty had his hormones in overdrive. Keep your mind on the job. That was the answer, and it was the best advice he could give himself.
Dear Reader,
This story is set in Broken Hill, which is often called the gateway to the Australian outback. It is alive with history, adventure and numerous outback artists capturing the unique beauty before them.
I certainly had a lot of fun getting to know Rose and Dave—as well as sorting out their obvious differences. Rose appears to be very much a city girl, while Dave is the typical Aussie bloke, who works and lives in this old mining town.
Rose slowly and methodically makes her way through her emotions, while I think Dave fell in love with Rose almost from the first moment he saw her—at least, that’s what he told me!
I hope you enjoy reading about Rose and Dave.
With warmest regards,
Lucy Clark
The Outback Doctor
Lucy Clark
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
SHE was not having fun!
Rose rested her elbow on the window-ledge and rubbed her fingers across her temple, her left hand on the steering-wheel. What had made her think that driving from Sydney to Broken Hill would be less hassle than flying and hiring a car once she arrived?
She would need to stop soon and battle the flies, due to the eighth bottle of water she’d consumed since breakfast. Drinking a lot served two purposes. She was forced to stop and revive as well as decreasing the risk of dehydrating. The weather was so stinking hot, even now, when it was approaching dusk. Well, at least there was air-conditioning in the car.
Rose heard a noise and immediately glanced in her rear-view mirror. A red sedan, with spoilers and gleaming chrome, was about to overtake her. It must be doing close to one hundred and thirty kilometres per hour as she herself was doing the State limit of one hundred.
‘Idiots!’ she mumbled as they roared past, the passenger in the car waving to her as they went. At this time of the evening, when the chances of hitting a kangaroo increased dramatically, speeding was the last thing on her mind. Last night, she’d made sure she’d stopped before dusk but as she was now about half an hour out of Broken Hill, she saw no point in stopping. Not if she was careful.
Rose checked the map again. Visions of using the bathroom at her father’s house made her smile. Better that than a dirty, fly-ridden petrol station or worse—having to squat!
Ten minutes later, she saw the outline of a large object in the middle of the road and automatically decreased her speed. Was it a roo? She’d seen a few dead ones on the side of the road since her journey had begun and it had made her sad. Still, it was a fact of outback life—or so she’d read. No—it wasn’t a roo. The silhouette was far too big.
The sun picked out a gleam of red and Rose’s stomach churned. Her heartbeat accelerated and as she mentally went through a check list of what was in her medical bag, safely nestled in the back seat, she hoped she wouldn’t be needing any of it.
As she neared, she saw the situation was even worse than she’d first imagined.
‘Oh, no!’ Rose’s mouth hung open, her eyes as wide as saucers as she took in the scene before her. It was horrific!
The red car hadn’t hit anything as yielding as a roo. It was on one side, the roof of the car completely buckled and hard up against the second trailer of a road train. She’d never seen a road train this close up and they were a lot longer than she’d expected. The front had hit the gravel shoulder of the road and sunk down into the drainage ditch, tipping the driver’s side of the cab up so the left side was almost buried in the ground.
The trailer that was connected directly to the cab was also in the ditch but still upright. The second and third trailers were blocking the road completely. Rose swallowed the sickening jolt that had initially twisted her stomach and forced her professionalism to the fore. She picked up her mobile phone as she brought the car to a halt but found it was out of range.
‘Damn!’ She cut the engine and switched on her hazard lights before reaching around into the back for her medical bag and her hat. Climbing from the car, she jogged along the road towards the wreck, the hot January weather hitting her like a brick.
Dust. Petrol. Blood. Death. The smells were poignant in the air and her eyes stung with hot tears at the senseless mess before her.
As she came closer, she could see the driver of the road train lying out through the front of the cab, half in, half out of the windscreen. Dropping her bag to the ground, she grabbed hold of his wrist, checking his pulse.
She sighed with relief. It was there. It was quite strong. ‘Can you hear me?’ she called, but received no answer. ‘I’m just going to take a quick look around and then I’ll be back.’
Rose picked up her bag and headed down the road, being careful of the debris. The petrol smell became stronger as she neared the red car. She got as close as she dared, her gaze searching hard through the wreckage for the two men who’d been in there.
She could only see one—the driver—and by the way he was positioned, squashed between pieces of twisted metal, she knew he was dead. With all the broken glass around, the other person could have been thrown through the windscreen. She looked around, scanning the fairly flat vegetation for signs of life, swatting continuously at the flies.
‘There.’ Her heart pounded fiercely against her chest as she rushed over to where the body lay—lifeless on the fine orangey-brown dirt. He was lying face down, his legs twisted at awful angles. Just by looking at them, she could tell they were badly fractured. She dumped her bag on the ground and quickly pulled out a pair of gloves and tugged them on.
Pressing two fingers to his carotid pulse, Rose didn’t like what she felt. It was thready and faint. Reaching for her medical torch, she turned his head slightly and checked his pupils. They were both sluggish.
She checked his pulse again and while her fingers were still pressed firmly to the man’s neck, his pulse disappeared. ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ she said firmly. Turning him over, Rose checked he hadn’t swallowed his tongue before grabbing an expired air resuscitation mask from her bag and placing it over the man’s mouth. Tipping his head back, she pinched his nose and breathed five quick breaths into his mouth.
Finding the right spot just beneath the man’s sternum, she placed one hand on top of the other and laced her fingers together before starting external
cardiac compression. Rose concentrated and counted. Fifteen compressions—two breaths. She checked his pulse. Nothing. Compressions, breaths. Still no pulse. She went again and this time when she checked for a pulse she found one.
‘Good,’ she puffed. ‘Now let’s try and see what else is happening to you.’ She glanced over her shoulder, thinking she’d heard something, but she couldn’t see anything. Her thoughts went to the truck driver. Perhaps he’d regained consciousness. She couldn’t check him just yet as this man’s injuries were more urgent. As she was the only person around, she had the triage call as to which patient required immediate attention.
She checked his pupils again. They were still sluggish, the right one slightly larger than the left. Not a good sign, she thought as she felt his limbs for breaks. She checked his pulse again just as she heard the sound of a car. Thank goodness. Even if the person did nothing other than get in contact with the ambulance or Royal Flying Doctor Service, she didn’t care. She wasn’t on her own any more.
The pulse disappeared again and Rose groaned. She went through the motions again and was in the middle of counting her cardiac compressions when the vehicle stopped, quite close to where she was, sending dirt over her crisp white top. Rose shut both her eyes and her mouth for a few seconds while the dust settled, and when she opened them, it was to find a pair of well-worn work boots, thick socks and tanned, hairy legs in her direct line of vision. She glanced up as the man squatted down. His hat was wide and also well worn and hid most of his face.
‘’Struth!’
‘Call for an ambulance or RFDS or something,’ she muttered as he crouched down.
‘Already done.’
His voice was deep and rich but she didn’t have time to think about such things at the moment. ‘Great. Do you know CPR?’
‘Sure, but I’ll just go take a look around first.’
‘I need you here,’ she demanded, wondering if everyone in the outback was such a sticky-beak.
‘You’re doing fine. I won’t be long.’
‘Get back here,’ she called in between counts but he was gone. ‘Of all my luck,’ she told her unconscious patient, but returned her concentration to counting the compressions.
True to his word, the stranger came back. ‘You do the breaths, I’ll take over the compressions,’ he stated, and simply knelt down and did as he’d said, not giving her the opportunity to say a word.
They worked together. Five compressions and then Rose blew one breath into the patient’s mouth.
‘One, two, three, four, five, breathe,’ he kept chanting.
At the end of the next set, Rose checked for the pulse. ‘Nothing,’ she reported. ‘Let’s go again.’
‘No.’
‘No?’
He picked up her medical torch and checked the patient’s pupils. ‘Fixed and dilated. I’m calling it. Time of death…’ He checked his watch.
‘You can’t call it.’
‘Eighteen twenty-three,’ he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘Why not?’ He stood and picked up a black bag that was just off to the right of him. She hadn’t seen him put it there. She glanced at her own medical bag.
‘You’re a doctor?’
‘Obviously.’ He didn’t wait for her to continue with the conversation and instead took off towards the truck driver. ‘Well, come on,’ he called impatiently over his shoulder, and Rose bristled as she rose to her feet and grabbed her own bag.
She supposed she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. She should be glad that the one person who’d arrived to help her was probably the local doctor. Rose rushed after him, knowing the truck driver needed their attention.
‘I see the driver of the red car doesn’t need our expertise,’ the man stated when she caught up to him.
‘No. Killed himself outright.’ Rose looked at the truck driver. ‘He’s regained consciousness.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘He’s moved.’ The driver was now almost completely out of the cab, coming across the front of the engine.
‘This is where he was when I came over to take a look. Help me get him down.’
Rose worked with the doctor, glad he was there. ‘I’ve got some morphine in my bag so that should help him with the pain.’
‘Good. Get an IV line set up, stat, then check his vital signs. Bob? Bob can you hear me? It’s Dave, mate.’ No reply.
‘How do you know him?’ Rose asked.
‘He’s a mate of mine,’ Dave mumbled, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves and taking some scissors out of his bag before cutting Bob’s navy T-shirt away. His abdomen was completely covered in blood and Dave began cleaning it up with gauze swabs. ‘If he’s come out through the front of the cab then he would have come over the windscreen.’
‘Correct.’ Rose was almost finished with the IV line. The sooner Bob got these fluids into him, the better. ‘He was lying over it—half in, half out—when I first checked him.’
‘Why didn’t you get him out?’ Dave demanded.
Rose didn’t like his tone at all. ‘His pulse was fine and I needed to assess the status of the other two patients. I was the only one here,’ she continued, her words and body language completely defensive, ‘and I made the triage call. As the other patient is now dead and Bob has clearly regained consciousness and managed to get himself out of the cab, I’d say I made the right choice.’
‘All right, all right. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I was only asking.’
‘No. You were criticising.’
Dave was silent for a moment. ‘He’s got glass in here,’ he said, pulling a piece from Bob’s abdomen and throwing it away, his gloved hand covered in blood. ‘What’s his BP?’
‘Eighty over forty. That’s not good.’
‘No joke.’
Rose continued to check Bob’s vital signs as well as running her hands expertly over Bob’s limbs. ‘Right femur feels fractured. That can’t be helping with the blood loss.’
‘Right arm doesn’t look good either. He’s not gonna be too thrilled when he comes around.’
‘Well, at least Bob is alive.’
‘Still, he isn’t going to be too happy.’
‘I’ve given him some morphine, so that should at least help with his pain.’
‘Good.’ Once that was done, they worked together to splint Bob’s broken leg, getting him ready for when the ambulance arrived. Dave kept talking to their patient all the time, telling him everything they were doing and that he was going to make it.
‘So what type of doctor are you?’ Dave asked as they worked.
‘Anaesthetist.’
‘Rose Partridge?’ he queried.
‘Yes.’ She was momentarily taken aback.
‘Just as well you’re here. The other anaesthetist left this morning and the locum isn’t due to arrive until tomorrow.’
‘What would you have done had I not arrived until Monday?’
‘We do have people who are trained to give anaesthetics but aren’t anaesthetists,’ he replied matter-of-factly.
‘Glad to hear it.’
He tipped his head to one side and listened. Then Rose heard it, too. Sirens. ‘Let’s change this dressing so he’s ready for the ambos.’ The cavalry was coming. Rose assisted him before doing Bob’s vital signs once more.
‘Pupils equal and reacting to light. BP now one hundred over fifty-five. At least those fluids being pumped into him are working.’
‘Yeah, but he’s still losing a lot of blood.’
When the emergency crews arrived, Rose had to admit she was impressed. They may have turned up in vehicles which weren’t state of the art, like the ones in Sydney, but they were functional for what needed to be done.
Once the dressing was changed, Dave ripped off his gloves and headed over to talk to the ambulance officers, or ambos as they were more affectionately known, leaving Rose to monitor Bob. He pointed in her direction and also to where the other patient was. At least they all knew
who was in charge!
‘G’day.’ One of the ambos brought over a stretcher. ‘Dave says ya the new anaesthetist.’
‘That’s right,’ Rose replied.
‘Not the best type of welcome for ya but we’re all mighty glad you’re here, Doc.’
‘Thank you.’ Rose launched into a spiel of Bob’s vital statistics as the ambos got him ready to move. When he was finally being wheeled away towards the ambulance, Rose removed her gloves and locked her bag. She was hot and sticky and as she stood to brush the dirt from her crumpled white shorts, she realised she’d have to bleach not only her shorts but her top as well as the orangey-brown dirt had well and truly settled into the fabric.
She swatted the flies away frustratedly before picking up her bag and heading back to her car. Dave jogged over and fell into step with her.
‘You’re going the wrong way. I need you to ride with Bob in the ambulance.’
‘Why can’t you?’
‘I’ll follow in my ute.’
‘Why can’t I follow in my car? I’m sure the ambos are more than capable of caring for the patient during the ride to hospital.’
‘He might regain consciousness again during the drive.’
‘All the more reason why you should authorise some medication for him, then.’
‘But you’re the anaesthetist. You’ll have a better idea of what analgesics he’ll need.’
Rose sighed heavily. ‘Fine, I’ll organise some analgesics but I’m still following in my car.’
‘We can get someone else to drive it to the hospital for you.’
‘Then why can’t we get someone to drive your ute to the hospital? After all, if Bob starts to haemorrhage, he’s going to need you on hand to deal with it.’
‘Are you always this difficult to work with?’ Dave asked.
Rose stumbled over a stone on the road and felt the warmth of Dave’s hand immediately at her elbow, steadying her. She shrugged him off, not caring if he thought she was rude. She was hot, dirty and tired from driving for the past two days.
‘You should be wearing sensible shoes, not those strappy little fashion things.’
