Sticks and Stones

by Susie Tate

  ‘I’ve fast bleeped him but he’s all the way over at the main hospital, could be a while for him to get here,’ the ward sister told him as she swept back into the cubicle.

  ‘Lou!’ Alun shouted out again and Dylan rolled his eyes.

  ‘Get me some frusemide,’ he bit out, desperation lacing tone. Surely that would sort Alun out.

  Clearly relieved that Dylan was finally making some sort of medical decision the ward sister strode off to the treatment room.

  ‘Twp bugger,’ Alun repeated, although not quite as forcefully as before, but only because he seemed to be weakening.

  ‘Thanks again big man, but if you haven’t noticed I am bloody well trying,’ Dylan said through clenched teeth, rearranging the oxygen more firmly on Alun’s face when he saw the sats dip to the low eighties again.

  ‘Bah!’ Alun exclaimed waving his hand dismissively. ‘Uffar gwirion*,’ he continued to shout pointing at Dylan, ‘Idiot.’

  ‘Here you go,’ clipped the ward sister, shoving the syringe into his hand. He opened the valve on the cannula and was about to inject -

  ‘What’s happening?’ Lou’s clear voice rang out as she swept back the curtains and Dylan’s eyes closed in relief.

  ‘I was just – ‘

  She grabbed the syringe out of his hand, frowning down at it.

  ‘Frusemide?’

  ‘I thought-‘ he was cut off as Lou moved him aside, took her stethoscope out and grabbed Alun’s obs chart. After listening to his chest, examining his abdomen, and ascertaining his urine was clear she cocked her head to the side and pulled back the sheet covering his legs.

  ‘Sepsis,’ she muttered, running the back of her hand down Alun’s leg. Dylan sucked in a shocked breath, having seen what he had missed. Lou put her hand to Alun’s leg and started to bend it at the knee.

  ‘Argghhh!’ Alun shouted, leaning forward as much as possible what with being hooked up to the oxygen and ivs.

  ‘Sorry Alun,’ Lou muttered, gently placing his leg back on the bed. She then turned, dropped the syringe of Frusemide in the bin and grabbed the drug chart.

  ‘Fluids, iv flucloxacillin and clindamycin,’ she turned to Dylan. ‘We’ll need – ‘

  ‘To aspirate the joint,’ he interrupted, scowling down furiously at Alun’s knee; the overlying skin was clearly reddened, the joint itself was swollen. It didn’t escape Dylan that this was an orthopaedic diagnosis. One that he should have been able to make.

  ‘But…but he wasn’t pyrexial,’ Dylan muttered in an attempt to justify his ineptitude. Had he actually given Alun that Frusemide it would have been very bed news for the old bastard, stripping him of much needed fluid when he was septic and already dehydrated.

  ‘Ever heard of the SIRS criteria Dylan?’ Lou asked once they were in the treatment room, Dylan preparing the tray to aspirate the joint and Lou on the phone waiting to speak to HDU.

  ‘I…well I…’

  Lou sighed. ‘Patient’s don’t always have to be pyrexial to be septic, hypothermia is a sign of sepsis too.’

  ‘Shit,’ Dylan breathed, yanking syringes and needles off the shelves. ‘Could be nothing though, doesn’t have to be septic arthritis…Gout?’ He knew he was clutching at straws, but admitting that a lack of medical knowledge led to missing a major orthopaedic emergency was galling. Lou frowned at him for a second before her expression cleared.

  ‘Look, don’t beat yourself up about it Dildo, okay,’ she said softly, laying her hand on his arm to halt his jerky movements. He shook her off, in no mood to be placated.

  Unfortunately what Dylan didn’t notice was the tension around Lou’s mouth, the paleness of her face and the red rimming her eyes before they’d even started this discussion. In fact before she had even seen Alun those things were in evidence, but Dylan had been way too stressed to let it penetrate.

  *****

  ‘Sharp scratch for a second Alun,’ Dylan warned as he pushed the needle into the joint space. Lou could practically hear his internal prayers for clear fluid to come out of the needle. Anything rather than admit that a little medical knowledge might actually help him be a better orthopaedic surgeon.

  ‘How was the feeding frenzy,’ Miles slapped Lou on the back sending her forward onto one foot. Great, the absolute last thing she needed was his smug face mocking her.

  ‘What are you doing here Miles?’ she asked, her voice cold.

  ‘Your boy here fast-bleeped me,’ he explained gleefully, turning to Dylan. Dylan’s shoulders tensed but he didn’t turn away from his task. ‘Did you need me to change you? Maybe hold your hand so the nasty medical knowledge didn’t try to infiltrate your brain?’ He chuckled but Dylan continued to ignore him.

  When Lou turned to glance at him she was surprised when he visibly flinched. In contrast to Dylan, Miles it seemed did not miss the effect that morning had had on her appearance. Lou basked in a rare moment of awkwardness from Miles, who at the sight of her obviously tear-stained face was rendered momentarily at a loss for words. ‘Lou…are you?…Um – ‘

  Lou stared at him levelly. If he didn’t like the result of his petty vendetta then he could bugger off and leave her alone. She wasn’t about to hide it from him.

  ‘What…what happened?’ he asked, shifting uncomfortably next to her.

  ‘Cut the shit Miles,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t worry, you got what you wanted.’ A look of genuine confusion crossed his face, which only served to deepen Lou’s scowl. He was quite an actor. She turned away in disgust, focusing again on the syringe Dylan was holding and noticing with detached fascination that it was rapidly filling with grey/green pus. Dylan’s shoulders slumped. Lou knew this was hard for him.

  The old Lou, the Lou that had been a doormat for the last ten years would console him, she’d reassure him and try to make him feel better. But, after what had happened at her appraisal this morning, that Lou was dead. Her heart was finally behind a wall of ice that wouldn’t ever be penetrated.

  Not ever.

  Chapter 13

  Definition of hard to get

  ‘Looks like my argument for us just sticking to hammering nails and playing with our power tools is wearing pretty thin,’ Dylan joked as they turned into the main ward. Lou smiled at him but as usual it didn’t reach her eyes.

  Since the Alun disaster Lou had made out to everyone else that it was Dylan’s save and his diagnosis, saying things like: ‘Wasn’t it lucky that we had an orthopod on the team to catch that one’ and ‘It just goes to show how brilliantly the teams can work together.’ It was safe to say that Dylan was firmly out of the shit as far as the geris consultants were concerned, and he knew that it was entirely down to Lou. In fact, there were quite a few times Dylan could recall when Lou had extracted not only him, but also numerous others from potentially disastrous situations.

  Before he could make any more asinine comments in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere they rounded the corner into Mrs Jones’ and Mrs Talbot’s bay. Lou slapped down a copy of the Radio Times on Mrs Jones’ bed table. It had Kylie on the cover. It was lucky that Kylie weirdly didn’t seem to have aged for the last twenty years, seeing as Mrs Jones was still stuck firmly in 1987. It meant that the magazines and newspapers Lou bought for her featuring Kylie went down a treat.

  Mrs Jones snatched it up, flashing Lou a rare smile. The smile Lou gave her in return did reach her eyes, and Dylan felt his jaw clench in frustration. It had been over two weeks since he misdiagnosed Alun. Dylan had finally learnt his lesson. He arrived even earlier than Lou on the wards now to prepare for the rounds, and was surprised by the volume of work he had been allowing her to do for him.

  He was worried about her.

  She’d lost weight, and, although she still strutted down the corridors, there was definitely less bounce in her step. Dylan had been so wrapped up sorting Alun and his septic arthritis out, that he felt like he had missed something crucial that morning. He’d been standing in theatre in the afternoon washing out Alun’s kne
e when the image of Lou’s face from earlier flashed into his mind. He could have sworn she’d been crying (a rare event in itself for Lou), and he wished that he’d paid more attention to what that pen little weasel Miles had been asking her about.

  Something had happened, and now Dylan was at a loss, yet again, as to how to get through to her. Although this time around it didn’t seem to be only him she was blocking out. A grim-faced Miles had approached her numerous times over the last two weeks and she was equally distant towards him. Not that she had ever been particularly close to Miles, but she always at least acknowledged him enough to spar with him, not either blank him or offer him the bland smiles she was now.

  ‘What are you ffwcin* doing here?’ Both Lou and Dylan turned to see a red-faced fat man barreling towards them across the ward. He recognized him as Mrs Talbot’s son and was surprised. Since Dylan had chucked him off the ward the last time he had been keeping a low profile. Dylan was not averse to throwing this guy out again, and was about to intercept when Lou laid a hand on his arm. He looked at her, and she shook her head.

  ‘Mr Talbot,’ Lou started in a level voice whilst straightening up from leaning over to speak to Mrs Jones. ‘I’m still your mother’s doctor and I – ‘

  ‘Had your wrist slapped didn’t you?’ Mr Talbot sneered, a triumphant look crossing his face, having obviously noticed Lou holding Dylan back. ‘Need to show me some respect now don’t you, you superior little ast*?’

  Dylan frowned. What was this guy on about? Lou bristled at his side.

  ‘Maybe Mr Talbot, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have to show me some respect when you step onto my ward.’ Mr Talbot took another step towards her, his hands curling into fists at his sides and Dylan was about to move when he was interrupted.

  ‘For God’s sake Dafydd will you just bloody shut up!’ Everyone froze and turned to an enraged Mrs Talbot, her eyes for once seeming completely lucid. ‘You were a horrible little boy and now you’re a horrible, greedy little man. Leave my doctor alone. I’m not dead yet you miserable bastard and I intend to hang on a good while longer just to spite you and keep your grubby hands off my money. Now get out!’

  ‘Mam I – ‘

  ‘Get out, get out, get out!’ she shrieked, rolling up the Radio Times she had snatched from Mrs Jones’s table and throwing it at his head, where it connected in a most satisfying way between his eyes. The look he threw Lou before he stormed off was pure venom, a muscle ticking behind his jaw. Dylan watched his retreating back with a strange sense of foreboding. Something wasn’t right about this guy and something about the undiluted hatred he displayed when staring at Lou made Dylan feel slightly alarmed.

  ‘What does he mean “had your wrist slapped”?’ Dylan asked once they had calmed down Mrs Talbot and Mrs Jones, both of whom were visibly shaken (Lou had to draft in Frankie with some millionaires’ shortbread, but the smug look on Mrs Talbot’s and Mrs Jones’ faces once they were set up with their favourite cake and some tea made Dylan suspect that some of their swooning may have been for effect).

  ‘It seems that he is pretty resourceful guy. He’s complained to the CCG, his MP, the GMC. They’re worried that he’ll go to the press. The public lap up those stories about hospitals mistreating the vulnerable elderly,’ she replied, shrugging and striding off to the next ward. Fortunately Dylan’s legs were significantly longer, even with the stilts/shoes she opted for, so he kept up easily, much to her annoyance.

  ‘What mistreatment?’

  ‘His word against ours, and he’s very vocal.’

  ‘But you shouldn’t stand for that, we should – ‘

  She ground to halt outside the path lab and swung to Dylan.

  ‘What do you care?’

  *****

  Lou rolled her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t have said that. She shouldn’t sink to his level but he was so two-faced and obvious she just couldn’t help herself. All this time pretending he knew nothing about what happened two weeks ago was ridiculous. Well she didn’t care anymore; she’d made her decision. Not that she had much choice, not that the hospital was giving her much choice.

  ‘Look, Richard’s at a meeting; you don’t need to be here.’ Lou had had enough, there was no point dragging him all over the hospital. ‘Tomorrow’s your last day anyway. What’s the point?’

  ‘Come on Lou. I’ve worked up the patients for you. It’ll be quicker if I…’

  Lou shook her head in confusion, ‘I don’t get it Dylan. What? Just because you nearly dried out an already dehydrated and septic Alun you’re on some sort of medical kick?’

  Although she wouldn’t admit it to Dylan, especially now, he had actually stepped up in the last two weeks. But that didn’t change the fact that he had been dumping work on her for the last six months, or what she had found out two weeks ago. Since then she’d been on a run of long days and nights and had barely seen or spoken to anyone. She hadn’t even told Frankie what had happened.

  Lou was just so used to being the one who looked after her friends, Frankie being no exception, that when she needed someone to lean on she found it hard to admit. Being vulnerable was not Louise Sands’ forte; her mother had taught her long ago that it was a bad idea. She also knew that Dylan’s betrayal and subsequent treatment of her in the Mess had dented his relationship with Frankie, and much as she hated him at the moment she didn’t feel like she could kill that off altogether.

  ‘Lou!’ An out of breath Miles came jogging down the corridor towards them looking uncharacteristically flustered. ‘God, I’m glad I caught you. I just wanted…’

  ‘Go away Miles,’ Lou said through clenched teeth. ‘I’m not in the mood to listen to your bullshit today.’ Miles ran his hands through his hair in a gesture of frustration.

  ‘Look, you’ve got it wrong. I don’t know how you – ‘

  ‘Miles, I think Louise asked you to leave.’

  Finally, a decent human being, Lou thought, grateful that Rich had chosen that moment to arrive on the ward. Out of everyone he had been the most supportive, giving up even his free sessions to talk her through her options now that the foundations of her career had shifted.

  ‘Listen, Dick I was talking to Lou and – ‘

  ‘And now you’re not.’ Rich took Lou’s arm and led her away, leaving Dylan and Miles gaping in the doorway.

  Now Lou was not really the kind of woman who appreciated someone leading her away or trying to fight her battles for her, and she felt a twinge of annoyance as they walked to the ward desk, but then shook her head to clear it, reminding herself how kind and patient Rich had been. Both men made a move to follow but Rich quickly dispatched the ward sister, who was not the sort of lady you argued with if she didn’t want you on her territory. Lou managed to beat back yet another twinge of annoyance at that too, taking up precious nursing time to fight her battles wasn’t exactly her style either.

  Maybe she should talk to Frankie, she thought as she printed the ward list. Maybe relying too heavily on Rich wasn’t that great an idea.

  *****

  ‘Honey, open the door.’

  ‘I’m fine Lou, honestly,’ Frankie’s sad little voice drifted through the locked bathroom door and Lou felt like her heart was breaking. What on earth had happened now?

  ‘Please Frankie.’ Silence followed broken only by the soft muffled sobs from behind the door. ‘Shall I call Tom? Surely he must – ?‘

  Lou was suddenly propelled backwards as the door was flung open. Frankie was surprisingly strong for her size.

  ‘No, no, no, don’t call him, not yet.’ Frankie’s pale face was awash with fear and she gripped onto Lou’s hand like it was some sort of lifeline. Lou narrowed her eyes. She’d told Weasel what she would do to him, or more specifically to his manhood, if he hurt her best friend.

  Frankie shook her head, having caught Lou’s furious expression, ‘No Lou, it’s nothing he’s done. It’s me. I’ve been stupid and careless and irresponsible and now…now…‘ Her breath hitche
d and she collapsed onto Lou, drenching her t-shirt with tears.

  ‘Hey, shhh, what’s all this?’ Lou cuddled her close and moved them both over to the sofa. Once they were sitting with Frankie wrapped in both Lou’s arms, Lou felt something stabbing into her hip. She looked down and gently pulled a white plastic stick out of Frankie’s stiff fingers.

  ‘Ah,’ she said, understanding dawning as she took in the two blue lines. ‘Does Tom know?’ she asked, biting her lip. If he did know and he’d left her in this state she was going to have his balls for breakfast.

  ‘Of course not,’ Frankie cried in horror. ‘I’ve only just had the courage to take the test. I’m not even that late for my period but…well…you know how I’ve been staying over at his a lot?’ Lou nodded against her hair. ‘Well I forgot my wash bag a couple of time and…I mean I told him that it might be…’ Jesus, Lou thought. Frankie, whose cheeks were now traffic light red, was literally the most prudish person Lou knew.

  ‘You had sex anyway?’ she asked, putting Frankie out of her misery.

  ‘He said…’ Frankie’s breath hitched as a fresh wave of tears threatened, ‘…he said that it would be fine. He said not to worry…’

  Lou had a suspicious mind. She’d seen how Tom had often hassled Frankie out of the flat with only a half packed bag before. She was going to kill him, that sneaky little Weasel.

  Despite her anger she managed to keep her voice level when she suggested: ‘I think I’d better ring him, Frankie, okay? Ask him to come over. I’ll stay if you want.’

  ‘He’s going to be so angry,’ Frankie whispered, and Lou rolled her eyes in frustration. She suspected that the last thing Weasel would be was angry.

  Shifting so that she could pull her phone out, and not bothering to wait for a response from Frankie, Lou put the phone to her ear.

  ‘Weasel? I’m with Frankie. You better get your arse over here or I’ll find you and drag you myself.’ She paused at the flurry of questions down the line from Tom who could no doubt hear Frankie’s muffled sobs in the background. ‘Just get here okay?’ she said, softening her tone in the face of his obvious concern.