A Wife and Child to Cherish (Audley Memorial Hospital)

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Paeds.’

  ‘Physician?’

  Josh nodded. ‘Yes. And, no, I can’t function with one hand, so don’t give me a frozen shoulder, for God’s sake.’

  ‘So little faith,’ Patrick said, tutting gently and checking to make sure there was no nerve damage. ‘Can you touch your other shoulder for me?’

  ‘Ouch! No. Are you a sadist?’

  He laughed. ‘I haven’t even started. Can you lie back? I’ll get someone to come and hold your hand and soothe you while I sort it out.’

  Josh snorted, and Patrick stuck his head out of the cubicle and found Sally at the nurses’ station.

  ‘Sally, got a minute?’

  ‘Sure. Is Josh giving you trouble?’

  ‘Not yet, but I’m sure he will. I’m going to give him intra-articular lignocaine and try a Kocher’s manoeuvre to reduce it, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll bring out the big guns and knock him out. I’m not going to wrestle with this one, he’s too stroppy.’

  ‘I can hardly wait,’ Josh said with an uneasy laugh, but in fact it was textbook.

  After Patrick had run through the full range of neurological and circulatory checks, he injected the local anaesthetic into the joint capsule, gave it a few minutes to take effect and then bent Josh’s arm at the elbow, turned it slowly out to the side, stretching the subscapularis muscle to relax the spasm in it.

  ‘Did you know,’ he said conversationally as he worked, ‘that there are Egyptian paintings of the building of the pyramids that show this method being used to reduce dislocations?’ Then popped the humeral head back in with an audible clunk while Josh was still thinking about the ancient Egyptians. ‘Hell’s teeth!’

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Amazing. And it didn’t hurt. Thank you.’

  Patrick grinned. ‘Any time. Right, Sally, could you put a support on it for me, please? You’ve got to have this strapped across your chest for three weeks, and then you’ll need physio. If you don’t look after it you’ll be in danger of recurrent dislocation.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances. I can’t afford to have three weeks off, that’s ridiculous!’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you. It could take six weeks, three is already being generous. You’re bound to have disrupted your rotator cuff, and if you don’t let it heal you’ll have a weak shoulder and you could end up facing surgery. Do you really want that?’

  ‘At least it means I can’t play rugby any more,’ he said wryly. ‘Every cloud has a silver lining.’

  ‘You don’t like rugby? So why play?’

  ‘Because they were a man short.’ Josh eyed him. ‘I don’t suppose you’re a rugby player?’

  Sally paused in the middle of fastening the sling, eyed him up and down as well, and smiled. ‘Looks like you could be. Ever played?’

  Had he ever played? ‘Years ago,’ he admitted reluctantly.

  ‘I was on the university team.’ And the county team, and he’d even played for Ireland once on account of his ancestry, but they didn’t need to know that.

  ‘And you gave up?’

  He felt his smile fade. ‘Things got in the way.’

  Sitting with Ellie, working extra shifts, doing up the house to save himself from going mad...

  ‘They’re a man short again. The match is on Sunday—it’s only a friendly. Fancy taking my place?’

  Patrick groaned. There was no such thing as a friendly. It would be war. He hadn’t run for years, and he was going to hurt like hell afterwards. He dredged up a sickly smile. ‘I can’t think of anything I’d like more.’

  Josh grinned. ‘Look oh it as my thank-you present for fixing my shoulder,’ he said and Patrick scowled at him.

  ‘Gee, thanks. You’re all heart. I’m so glad we’ve .met. Sally, this needs another series of plates to be sure it’s fixed, then strap him up nice and tight, please, so he can’t take it off.’

  ‘Oh, great. You’re all good news this morning.’

  Sally laughed and helped Josh sit up, and Patrick watched the colour come and go from his face.

  ‘Are you feeling dizzy?’

  ‘Bit woozy. I had some codeine earlier and it tends to knock me out a bit.’

  ‘Right. Let’s get those plates and check them out, and then I need to get into Theatre and start my emergency list.’

  The plates were clear, the dislocation reduced and the humeral head was nicely settled back in its place. It was comfortable for now, although Patrick was sure it would hurt later once the local had worn off.

  ‘OK, you’re sorted and I’m off. Take anti-inflammatories and paracetamol as necessary and come and see me in a couple of weeks and we’ll reassess it. And don’t be silly.’

  Josh grinned. ‘No, Doctor. Thanks. I’ll get in touch with the team captain and tell him to come and find you.’

  He snorted. ‘Cheers. I might just have to leave the country.’

  He headed back to the ward, found his young gymnast and explained what he was going to do. Under other circumstances she would have had to wait her place in the queue, but she was a promising young athlete and without immediate surgery her competition life would be over. It might well be anyway, but he’d give it his best shot.

  ‘How does it feel? I gather you’ve had quite a bit of pain.’

  She nodded. ‘It feels awful—so wobbly. Will it be all right?’ she asked him, and there was a fearful note to her voice that reinforced his decision to do this procedure promptly.

  ‘I hope so. I can’t make any guarantees, and I’m afraid you will have some scars, but I’ll do my best to keep them to a minimum and if I have any say in the matter you’ll be in with a very good chance of competing again. I doubt you’ll make the Olympics, but you should at least be able to enjoy the sport.’ She laughed. ‘I wasn’t going to make the Olympics anyway, so you’d be doing well if you got me that fixed up!’ Annie was walking past and she chuckled, and he was instantly aware of her again. Not that he’d been particularly unaware of her, he had to admit...

  He dragged his attention back to Sarah. ‘Now, did I explain what I’m hoping to do?’

  She shook her head. ‘Something about my patella tendon, but I wasn’t really listening. I was too stunned yesterday.’

  ‘OK. Right, let’s show you,’ he said, and laid his hands on her good knee. ‘Now, before you panic, I know this is the wrong one, but I don’t want to fiddle with the sore one unnecessarily.’

  She shot him a grateful smile and her tension level dropped visibly. ‘Thanks,’ she murmured.

  ‘Right, I’m only going to mend the anterior cruciate. The medial collateral’s only partly ruptured and it’ll heal by itself, so I’d rather leave it alone. Now, I’m going to open up the front of the knee like this, and steal a bit of your patella tendon, a sliver of kneecap and likewise some of your tibia where the tendon joins on. OK? Then I’ll take that section and use it to make new ligaments, by cutting little slots in the bone and inserting the fragments on each end of the stolen patella tendon strips into the slots and securing them. They’ll then heal up and, hey, presto, you’ll have a new instant ligament. It won’t be as strong, but it’ll work, and you’ll feel instantly more stable and comfortable, and with physio and serious commitment from you to an appropriate exercise programme, it’ll be much much better. Make sense?’

  She nodded. ‘Absolutely. Thank you so much.’

  ‘My pleasure. I’ll see you in Theatre in a few minutes.’

  He thought about the rugby match again during the course of the morning, while he was fixing Sarah Williams’s knee, and decided that it might even be fun. If he could survive. But there was only one way to make sure he could, and that was to start running. Now. Tonight, and tomorrow, and then maybe by Sunday he’d be able to keep going long enough that he didn’t disgrace himself utterly.

  He went back to the ward after he’d finished his list and found Annie in the office.

  ‘How’s Sarah?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine. The cartilage was O
K, and the repair went smoothly, but we’ve had to give her a lot of pain relief in Recovery. She’ll be back with you soon, and she’ll need a PCA pump. Have you got a spare one?’

  ‘Yes, it’s all ready for her. As soon as she’s awake enough to operate it, I’ll give her a lesson. I wish we had more— people need so much less pain relief when they’re in control. It’s much better than us guessing.’

  ‘Talk to the people with the purse-strings,’ he suggested, and she laughed.

  ‘I have. Endlessly. I’ll let you try.’ She tipped her head on one side and grinned. ‘So what’s this I hear about Sunday?’

  He groaned. ‘News travels fast. I was press-ganged into it by Josh Lancaster.’

  Her grin widened. ‘I know. I heard. Sally popped up with her old walking boots for me and told me. Mind if we come and watch?’

  ‘Didn’t know it was a spectator sport,’ he said sourly.

  ‘What—rugby?’

  ‘No. My humiliation.’

  She laughed, the sound rippling through him like sweet, sweet music, and suddenly it didn’t matter if he was going to be in agony, because to have her come and watch him play, cheering him on and just being there for him, would make it all worthwhile.

  ‘Of course you can come,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Good.’

  And something warm in her smile made his heart kick hard against his ribs.

  Hell. He hadn’t felt like this for years. Not since Ellie...

  ‘I’m going to find a quiet corner and get my head down. Page me if you need me,’ he said. Turning on his heel, he strode rapidly away before he could give in to his instincts and do something really, really silly, like kiss her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She picked up Katie from school, and they were nearly home when she caught sight of a runner on the pavement coming towards her.

  A runner? Just any runner?

  Or Patrick, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and trainers, his long muscular legs eating up the paving as he approached?

  She couldn’t help the smile. It just happened, starting somewhere deep inside her and blossoming on her face without her permission. ‘Hi, there. Is this all about Sunday?’

  He grinned and slowed to a halt, hands on hips, shoulders tipped forwards, breath rasping. ‘I must be mad,’ he gasped.

  ‘What about Sunday?’ Katie asked, looking at him in fascination, and he straightened up and laughed a little breathlessly. Well, very breathlessly, actually, but Annie wasn’t going to criticise because he looked—well, amazing. Powerful. Solid. Good enough to eat. She could see a pulse hammering in his throat, and the air was sawing in and out of his lungs, so she answered for him.

  ‘He’s playing rugby for the hospital. And I think he’s probably trying to get a bit fitter.’

  ‘A lot fitter,’ he groaned, but he was still smiling, and he lifted his arm and swiped the sweat off his forehead and grinned, and her knees went funny.

  Pheromones, she told herself. It’s just nature’s little trick. Ignore it.

  But she couldn’t. ‘Fancy a drink while you’re here?’ she asked, but he shook his head.

  ‘I need to warm down and shower and get dressed so I don’t end up like a board. I’d better go home. I could come back, though?’ he suggested, looking hopeful. ‘Have you eaten yet?’ She shook her head regretfully. ‘We’re going to my parents’ for the weekend. The bus goes in an hour. Sorry.’ Was it her imagination or did his face fall? ‘I thought you were coming to the match?’ he said.

  ‘We are. We’ll be back by then. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  He grunted, but the disappointment in his eyes had faded and he was smiling again.

  ‘OK. I’d better go before I get cold. I’ll see you on Sunday. Have a good weekend.’ And with a wink at Katie, he set off down the pavement, his long legs picking up speed as he moved away, growing smaller and smaller until with a wave of his hand he turned the corner.

  How had he’d known she was still watching? And why was she still watching?

  She gathered herself together. ‘Come on. Let’s have a cup of tea and some toast and then we need to go.’

  The match was amazing.

  For a start, there was the spectacle of thirty big, sweaty men rampaging around on a muddy field and almost killing each other to get possession of the ball, but Annie had no idea what the rules were. A few things stood out, however.

  One, they threw the ball backwards, which she supposed she’d always known but it seemed crazy, throwing it the wrong way. Two, there didn’t seem to be any sense to the scoring, because everything they did was worth something different, tries and conversions and penalties and drop goals—confusing. Three, the scrum seemed to happen for no very good reason and looked like a huge pile of limbs in danger of injury—which she understood was what had happened to Josh Lancaster, who was there with his arm in a sling, yelling with the rest of them. Four, there was a lot of yelling and cheering and jumping up and down on the sidelines, and lots of good-natured rivalry.

  Well, she and Katie could do that bit, and threw themselves into it enthusiastically every time Patrick had the ball.

  Which seemed to be quite a lot, but he was a long way from the Audley Memorial goal end and didn’t seem to get involved in the scoring. He seemed to be able to leap miles high, though, and catch the ball out of the sky. Amazing.

  It was stunningly physical, and she couldn’t believe the way they all crashed to the ground on so many occasions. Surely they must be black and blue?

  Mad. All mad. Doctors, too. Crazy. You’d think they’d know better. And the score was neck and neck, and people were checking their watches and she guessed the end was getting close.

  And then someone threw Patrick the ball, and there was a tangle of bodies in the middle and a long, clear run in front of him, and he tucked the ball under his arm and went for it, his long legs powering up the field with the opposition in hot pursuit. They grabbed at him but he twisted away, lunged about ten feet through the air and slammed the ball down victoriously on the far side of the line just as the final whistle blew. The home crowd erupted.

  ‘I think we won!’ she said, laughing down at Katie, and then the team were carrying Patrick above their heads, and everyone was cheering, and he was grinning and laughing and punching the air, and her heart nearly burst with pride.

  He caught sight of her as they put him down, and he came over, smeared with mud and dripping with sweat and grinning like a loon. She was so tempted to throw her arms around him anyway, but she came to her senses and backed away.

  ‘I’d hug you but you’re disgusting,’ she said laughingly. ‘I’ll wait until after you’ve showered. But well done.’

  ‘Thank you. That was the best fun. I’m going to have to thank Josh.’

  ‘Do you hurt?’ Katie asked, staring in fascination at the blood that was trickling down his shin and mingling with the mud that covered him liberally.

  ‘No. I will, but for now I could take on the world.’

  ‘Take on the shower,’ Annie advised with another bubble of laughter. ‘We’re going home to warm up.’

  ‘There’s tea—cakes and sandwiches and stuff. You’re more than welcome, I’m sure. Please, stay.’

  How could she resist? Especially in the face of Katie’s pleading. So they went and chatted to the other women while they waited, wives and girlfriends and mothers and sisters, and she found the Lancasters and heard all about Josh’s shoulder. Then Patrick appeared, scrubbed and smelling of soap, his hair still damp, and before she could move he scooped her up in his arms and hugged her, leaving her breathless and laughing.

  ‘I want a hug, too!’ Katie demanded, so he set Annie down and picked her daughter up and kissed her soundly on both cheeks, making her giggle. Annie felt a stab of jealousy that took her utterly by surprise. And then she felt a great welling of tenderness for this man who was so full of fun and laughter and had brought the sunshine into their lives.


  Their eyes met over Katie’s head as he set her down, and for a moment they were transfixed, then he seemed to collect himself and glanced down.

  ‘Ready for tea?’ he said to Katie, and she nodded enthusiastically and slipped her hand trustingly into his, while her mother looked on and wished for things she had no business wishing for.

  Crazy things. Things so far out of reach she didn’t even dare to dream about them...

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Sore,’ he said with feeling, and she couldn’t help the little laugh. ‘Don’t,’ he protested. ‘Everything hurts. I’ve got an elective list and I can hardly move, and one of the cases is a bit tricky.’

  ‘Susanne Dickinson?’

  ‘That’s the one. I’m doing a knee replacement but because of the rheumatoid arthritis it’s not straightforward. She’s had carbon rods inserted into the end of her femur to encourage the cartilage to regenerate, and although it’s given her a few extra years with that knee, it’s going to make it harder to do the replacement. I’ve got to get the rods out first and it’ll be fiddly, I just know it, but she’s so gutsy.’

  ‘Tell me about it. We’re keeping a close eye on her for any sign of infection or chest problems because of the anti-TNF and methotrexate that she’s on. I’ve alerted all the staff, and flagged it in her notes, and we’re nursing her in a side ward to cut down the infection risk.’

  ‘Good. I’ve started her on prophylactic antibiotics to be on the safe side, but keep an eye on her post-op and try and steer anyone who’s spluttering away from her. How’s Sarah Williams doing?’

  ‘Your gymnast? She’s desperate to go home, apparently. If you could find time to discharge her before you start your list, I’m sure she’d be undyingly grateful. I’ll find her notes.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll go and chat to Suzanne Dickinson, see if I can put her mind at rest. Where is she?’