To Dr Cartwright, A Daughter

by Meredith Webber

  'Swans stay together for ever.'

  Julia's clear, childish voice, adopting a different subject but one still close to her heart, brought her back to earth with a jolt.

  'The mother and father, that is,' she added. 'The children leave home when they're old enough, but the mother and father stay together.'

  Katy knew the heat she felt must have turned her cheeks to scarlet. So many conversations coming back to haunt her! Jake had told her about the swans and she'd argued from her own experience, using the words he'd repeated to her last night, that staying together wasn't always so good.

  'It's because they love each other,' her parrot of a daughter added. 'It only works with the love bit, Mum says.'

  'Does she, pet?' Jake said lightly, but Katy could hear the pressure of her own tears in his voice.

  'We've got to go!' she announced, standing up so suddenly her calf muscles cramped and she stumbled awkwardly.

  Jake reached out to steady her, and, looking down, she saw more questions in his eyes. He rose to his feet but she couldn't bring herself to step away from him, so their clothes and skin brushed against each other and tremors of excitement fluttered in her lungs.

  If she touched him now...

  If he took her arm...

  'Can I run?'

  She caught back the drifting, dangerous thoughts and turned towards her daughter, poised at the junction between the two paths.

  'As far as the shadows,' Katy told her, and watched the slender figure dart towards the trees.

  'I make sure there are no pedestrians to be knocked over,' she explained to Jake, her voice as hoarse as if it were never used.

  'Has she enough sight to tell where the shadows begin?' he asked, damping down her erratic reaction with the practicality of the question.

  'I don't think so.' She gathered up the blanket and walked towards her waiting daughter. 'I think she can tell by the change in temperature on her skin. I don't like to probe too much in case...' She hesitated, wondering how she could explain her reservations. 'When you were a kid, did you ever wake up in the night and think you'd forgotten how to breathe? It's such an automatic action no one analyses it, yet when you start to think about it, you find it difficult.'

  His footsteps slowed, as if he knew she would want to finish this conversation before they reached Julia.

  'You're afraid if she starts to think about how she senses things, she'll lose the knack?'

  'Exactly! So I bumble along, wondering about it, trying desperately to train my senses in the same way—to find some clue of how things work for her.'

  'It would be an interesting study—the degree of sensory perception in sight or hearing-impaired children.'

  'Wouldn't it just?' Katy agreed fervently. They reached Julia and she took her by the hand. 'It's one of my dreams,' she confessed, adding, in almost inaudible tones, 'One day!'

  She felt Jake's attention shift, and wondered if he was thinking of a similar dream she'd shared with him. I'll be a nurse—one day! She straightened her shoulders, arguing silently against an imagined reminder. Just because one dream had died, it didn't mean you held a wake for all the others!

  He walked with them to the end of the avenue of trees.

  'We're going swimming in the hospital pool tomorrow morning,' Julia told him, while Katy wondered why she'd spent so much money on speech therapy because she'd been worried about Julia's verbalisation skills. At the moment she could see unlimited advantages in having a non-verbal child! 'Because you're a doctor, you could come.'

  'That would be lovely,' he said gravely. 'If I'm not working, I'd like to join you.'

  'And have lunch with us afterwards in the canteen?' Julia urged, and as Jake raised that questioning eyebrow at her Katy shrugged.

  'She especially loves their mushy beans on toast— prefers the canteen to McDonalds.'

  He looked horrified—probably remembering the steak—but he made a noise that could have been a yes, then touched his new admirer lightly on the head.

  'See you in the pool, Julia,' he said. 'Be good.'

  'I'm always good,' she told him indignantly. 'I'm my Mum's one and only best, best girl!'

  Katy saw Jake straighten and his eyes met hers. Her heart thundered as she realised how many 'Jakisms' she had unconsciously passed on to Julia, including 'You're my one and only best, best girl'. Would he remark on it? She waited, feeling the silence, like the sunshine, on her skin.

  'I'm on call, and the place is still a mad house, so I'll be at the hospital if you want to talk to me,' was all he said, then he turned and walked away.

  What did he mean—want to talk to him? Surely he couldn't have picked up anything about her single state from Julia's prattling conversation. For one horrible moment Katy had thought Julia might blurt out the information that her father hadn't loved her mother, which was why, unlike the swans, her parents had parted. But she'd been diverted in time, so it couldn't be that!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jake wasn't at the pool, but Helen was enjoying the use of the hospital facilities and she filled Katy in on the latest drama being played out in the main building.

  'Happened in the early hours of this morning,' she began, settling herself on the edge of the pool where Katy sat to watch Julia swim back and forth across the width. 'Post-partum haemorrhage! You can imagine the scene. Mr Carstairs, who's usually very meek and mild, screaming hysterically at the sight of blood, and Mrs Carstairs—predictably—threatening to sue everyone from the hospital shareholders to the security guards.'

  'Was Dr Anderson available?' Katy asked, and saw Helen shake her head.

  'When's a specialist ever around when you need him? He was at his daughter's wedding down the coast, but Jake Cartwright was on call and fortunately lives in the hospital. He appeared within minutes and told Mrs Carstairs he'd let her bleed to death if she didn't stop her nonsense.'

  Katy whirled on her friend, shock jolting her upright.

  'He couldn't possibly have said anything so stupid! "Never make even light-hearted threats to patients!" That's rammed into every nursing and medical student from the time they start to study.'

  'Well,' Helen said, 'he didn't quite use those words, but I think he got the message across that if she continued to make a fuss, things could get worse. Anyway, according to the night staff, she settled down.'

  Helen kicked at the water, sending an arc of droplets into the air. 'Mind you, I suspect that man could charm the flowers off wallpaper if he set his mind to it,' she added.

  'What was the problem?' Katy asked, hiding the strange scrunchy feeling she felt inside when Helen spoke of Jake.

  'Well, it could have been retained placental material or uterine atony—the uterus not contracting properly after the birth. Usually that shows up sooner, but it wouldn't be surprising after the stretching it must have had during Mrs Carstairs's pregnancy. She'd been given the usual dosage of oxytocin in IV fluids after the placenta was delivered, and the staff had been massaging her when she'd allow it—'

  'You mean when she wasn't busy giving interviews or getting remarried!' Katy had seen the list of 'appointments' Mrs Carstairs had arranged through her publicity managers.

  Helen laughed, agreeing that the whole procedure had been stage-managed throughout.

  'Anyway, Dr Cartwright told her if it was that, there were two options: drugs or surgery. You can imagine how she reacted to any suggestion of surgery! He palpated her abdomen and decided it was boggy enough to need dealing with first, so he increased the infusion rate, added Methergine sequentially and everyone waited.'

  'Methergine?' Katy repeated the unfamiliar word.

  'It'll usually produce really strong uterine contractions—some specialists use it, some prostaglandin. I've known them to use both in quite a few cases. I think Dr Cartwright was a bit doubtful about the effectiveness of drugs, with the patient's abdomen the way it was and the possibility that the haemorrhage might have been caused by something else. Anyway, she's got blood repla
cement flowing into one arm and the IV cocktail into the other, and she must have felt a bit better because she demands we get the photographer and video cameraman back in to record this bit of the drama for posterity.'

  'I don't believe you,' Katy gasped. 'She must still have been feeling dreadful—why would she want anyone taking films or photographs?'

  'Why would she do any of the things she's done?' Helen asked. 'I'm just glad I wasn't on duty! Evidently Dr Cartwright blew his top and told her she was a seriously ill woman and he was going to invoke hospital regulations to prevent anyone other than her husband entering her room.'

  'Can we do that? Are there hospital regulations which give us such power?'

  'Ron Spencer asked him that when they walked out of her room, and Ron says Dr Cartwright said he'd make some up if necessary, but he was damned if he was going to lose a patient because some press hound wanted one last photo. Seems he sent people flying in all directions—wanted new blood tests for a coagulation profile, ultrasound for retained placental material or blood-clots—'

  Julia swam back to where the two women sat, bobbed her head above water, grabbed Katy's ankle and demanded, 'Where's my doctor?'

  'She's met Dr Cartwright,' Katy explained to Helen, then she touched Julia on the head and said, 'He's very busy today.'

  Seemingly satisfied, Julia felt along the edge of the pool beside where Katy sat, finally locating four thick plastic hoops. She positioned herself carefully, her back against her mother, and dropped them into the water so they formed a semi-circle around her feet on the bottom of the pool.

  'Now, I'll dive for them,' she announced.

  'She's showing off for you, seeing "her" doctor isn't here,' Katy explained to Helen. She watched Julia's legs thresh above the water as she duck-dived to the bottom, but her mind was on Jake and the problems he'd been having.

  'What did the scan show? Did, he take her back to Theatre for a curette?' she asked, reaching out to take the first coloured hoop from Julia. 'Very smart,' she told her daughter, and watched her dive again.

  'Unfortunately it was unclear. No nice line showing the uterus had contracted, and little sign of anything else. He suggested a curette, in case that was the problem, but she refused to consider his performing even such a simple operation. She wanted Anderson or no one, and refused to give consent.'

  'Poor Jake!' Katy murmured, taking the second hoop from Julia.

  She felt a shift in Helen's attention and heard a hint of added interest when she said, 'You sound as if you really care!'

  'I care about any doctor who's given a hard time by a patient. When things go wrong, they have to cop both the patient's blame and their own uneasiness that they might have been able to do more. In cases like this, the doctor is in a rotten situation.'

  'I guess!' Helen murmured, but she didn't sound as if she was thinking about Mrs Carstairs.

  Julia picked up the last two hoops.

  'Time to get out, kitten,' Katy said to her. 'You're getting waterlogged.'

  'Once more, over and back,' Julia pleaded.

  'Okay, see how quickly you can swim.'

  'She's so fearless,' Helen remarked. 'She splashes into people, then gets going again as if she can actually see the other side of the pool.'

  'I know she can distinguish light and dark,' Katy explained, 'but I'm beginning to wonder if she can also detect some difference in the texture of the light. So the other side of the pool might have a particular appearance she can recognise.'

  'Have you had her tested?' Helen asked, and Katy shook her head.

  'You and Nan!' she muttered. 'You're both as bad as each other. What if I do have her tested and it proves she's in the group they class as "talented and gifted"? What's it going to prove? The special clubs and programmes they have are for sighted kids.'

  'As long as I've known you, Katy, you've never treated Julia as if she's sight-impaired. Why would joining one of those groups make a difference?'

  'I can't explain,' Katy told her. 'I haven't said I won't have her tested—I'm still thinking about it.'

  She knew she sounded defensive, but she remembered Jake telling her about the club he'd attended. His intelligence had made him 'different' from the other kids at his school, and he'd had to play harder and fight tougher and continually prove himself as 'normal' as any of his peers, again and again.

  And Julia was already 'different'.

  She helped her daughter out of the pool and wrapped a towel, cloak-like, around her, wishing she had the power to provide a cloak of emotional protection as easily.

  'See you tomorrow,' she said to Helen, herding Julia towards the changing rooms. They'd have lunch in the canteen then walk home, and, with any luck, Julia would sleep for a few hours and she could lie down and relax herself. Her quiet Sunday afternoons were precious—a time when she was just herself, not an administrator, or a waitress, or Julia's mother.

  James Carlyle, the chief medical officer at the hospital, put paid to that plan. The phone was ringing when they reached home.

  'Can you come in to work, Katy? There's all hell breaking loose in this place and I need someone to man the phone on your ward. Three of the staff have already been reduced to tears after they refused to give out information and the switchboard operators are threatening to quit if they have to handle all the calls themselves.'

  He sounded tired and harassed.

  'I've spoken to Nan Chalmers from the crèche and told her we need you here. She suggested you take a cab and drop Julia at her place. Charge it to the hospital, of course.'

  'Okay, James,' she agreed. 'I'll get there as quickly as I can.'

  Given Mrs Carstairs's propensity for publicity, she didn't know why she was surprised to hear that this latest dramatic development had been made public. No doubt the woman would milk it for all it was worth.

  Julia was playing on the floor, rolling balls with one hand and catching them with the other.

  'I've got to go to work for a while, pet. Would you mind if I dropped you at Nan's place?'

  Silly question! Julia loved going to Nan's—in fact, her enjoyment of the rough and tumble she shared with Nan's kids sometimes made Katy feel guilty about her daughter's only child status.

  She phoned for a cab, then, leaving Julia playing, raced upstairs and threw some clean clothes for her daughter into a small backpack. Nan would keep her for the night if Katy was held up at the hospital, and the supply of clothes already at Nan's might not be enough.

  She thought about changing out of her shorts, then decided no one would be worried about how she looked. She'd be a voice on the end of the phone, nothing more.

  Nan was waiting on the footpath outside her place when the cab drew up. Katy kissed her daughter and handed her over, then climbed back into the vehicle.

  The cab driver refused to be intimidated by the crush of people outside the main entrance to the hospital. He put his hand on the horn and blasted his way through towards the door.

  'Charge it to the hospital, love?' he asked, and Katy agreed, giving him her authorisation number. She opened the door and leapt out, hoping she'd be taken for a normal visitor.

  As she hurried past the security men who held the crowds at bay, she heard whispers of the stories that had swelled their ranks.

  'Mother's dying...'

  'Could be dead already...'

  'Three babies gone...'

  'Adoption...'

  'No, all the babies are okay—the father says he'll bring them up himself. Someone's raising money...'

  How do these rumours start? she wondered as she showed her identification to a policeman who was on duty in the main foyer.

  James must be panicking to have brought in the law!

  She found another policeman on the fourth floor and wondered what effect this circus was having on their other patients. And what did the Asian mothers, who turned shyly away from fuss and attention, make of it all?

  She reached her office and phoned through to the switchboard to let
them know she was there.

  'Before you start directing calls to me, I'll need to speak to a doctor so I know exactly what I can and can't say,' she explained.

  'Dr Anderson's not here yet, although I believe he's on his way,' the operator told her. 'I'll see if I can get on to Dr Cartwright or Dr Spencer.'

  A few minutes later Ron Spencer knocked on the door.

  'Thank goodness you're here, Katy. Maybe you can provide a bit of sanity in this madhouse.'

  He perched on the edge of her desk, where Jake had sat.

  The phone rang and she reached out to silence it.

  'Could you hold for a minute?' she said politely, then flipped a switch so soothing music would play in the caller's ear. 'What's happening, Ron? And how much do we make public?'

  'She's still bleeding, blood pressure's low. Jake's beside himself and someone is keeping sections of the media up to date on every move we make.'

  'Can't we remove the phone from her suite on the pretext she's too sick to take calls?'

  'We've done that,' he told her. 'There's another leak somewhere.'

  'So what do we do?' she asked him.

  'Take the calls and say she's stable, You can repeat that there's been some post-partum problems which are being handled in the usual manner.'

  She lifted her eyebrow and he laughed.

  'You'll think of something to keep them happy,' he assured her.

  'I'll try,' she promised. 'But if word's leaking out somewhere else, you might put someone on to finding where. The rumours circulating downstairs are unbelievable.'

  'I'll see what I can do,' he promised, and turned to leave.

  Katy was about to switch back to the caller when she remembered the babies.

  'What's the status of the kids?' she called after him, and he swung back towards her and shrugged.

  'Go with "stable", Katy,' he said quietly. 'The neonatal specialist is still worried about two of them, and you know how dicey it is to predict outcomes for any pre-term baby.'