Again, when Ailee arrived at the ward, two minutes early, everyone else was already assembled. She saw Fergus glance at the clock and she was glad she wasn't late.
Obviously he had a fetish for punctuality. She'd make sure he didn't have anything to complain about and vowed she'd turn up fifteen minutes before everyone else next session.
William was the first patient and when Fergus picked up the chart his brow furrowed as he read the name. Green. How ironic. She wasn't just standing in front of him. Reminders of Ailee seem to be everywhere. Even patients had the same name. He had it bad. It was a pity she wasn't worth the angst. He shut the thoughts off.
'Hello, William. I see you've just been through a tough patch but are improving steadily now?'
'I'm getting there.' He was a tall boy and there was something familiar about him that Fergus couldn't quite pin down. He'd probably seen him at Sydney West renal unit but it wasn't like him to forget a face.
'So you have this week and next week in the assessment clinic to finalise dates for your transplant. I see you've come in consistently over your fluid limit. Let's get you examined and we'll answer any questions you have because I expect your operation could be as early as Monday week if you continue to improve.'
Rita pulled the curtains and the rest of the team stepped back.
So Fergus hadn't connected William with her. Ailee felt guilty that she hadn't told him but, considering how unfriendly he'd been to her, he didn't deserve to know anyway. Maybe if she had told him why she'd left he wouldn't be treating her like this. She'd never know.
Today had been huge, considering all that was happening. Her new job, running into Fergus, William coming in for assessment to set the date for their operations—it was no wonder her head was spinning.
'Are you OK?' Maurice was beside her and his face showed concern.
'I'm fine. Sorry. I suppose I just realised how dangerous the op is for William.'
'William isn't the only person who's having an operation.'
Ailee shook her head. 'Mine's nothing. A bit of discomfort, a scar, and I'll be just as healthy at the end. William has the drugs to live with for the rest of his life.'
'And a much better life he'll have, thanks to you.'
Ailee frowned at Maurice and there was no doubt his look held particular warmth. More complications. She felt a hundred years older than Maurice but he was probably only a year or two younger than she was. Although he was a nice lad, he seemed so young and immature—especially after Singapore. Already Fergus had spoiled other men for her.
The curtains were pulled back and her eyes were drawn as the man in her thoughts stared straight into her face.
There was a moment's silence and for a second she thought he'd discovered William was her brother and he was going to take her arm and steer her into the office again. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Two trips to the office would start a gossip storm. But he didn't.
He just moved on.
CHAPTER FIVE
By Wednesday Ailee had found her feet in her new job. Each new challenge served to increase her respect for her predecessor and for the whole renal team.
At the top of her list, surprisingly, was Fergus McVicker, tireless in his pursuit of optimum health for his patients and demanding high standards from all on the team. The fact that he received unqualified support from everyone he came into contact with was because of his own dedication.
The patients adored him and Ailee found it hard to comprehend that she had shared such intimacy with this driven man.
Superficially she appeared the most immune out of the staff to seeing Fergus almost every day. Unfortunately she couldn't help the jump in her heart rate or ache in her chest when she was near him, and she sometimes wondered if she would go quietly insane for wanting some of their closeness to return. If only William's operation could be scheduled sooner and she could try to salvage some rapport from their past association. But life wasn't like that.
An hour after the assessment clinic Ailee's pager went off.
The call originated from Intensive Care to call her for donor liaison. ICU had a family who hadn't known their dying daughter had signed a donor card. The girl's parents were naturally having trouble coming to terms with her wish to donate her organs.
Ailee's stomach fluttered at the thought of the hours ahead. Her input could make such a difference to their decision, many people's lives and especially the donor family's grieving process, and she was anxious to do her best.
When Ailee arrived at the intensive care unit, Andrew, an anaesthetist she'd worked with the previous year, handed her the second set of brain-stem death tests from the unfortunate young woman.
'Hi, Ailee. Good to see you back, but not in these circumstances. I have a tragedy here for you. Twenty-five- year-old Eva Ellis was involved in a car accident and never regained consciousness.' They both looked towards the separate room adjacent to the desk.
Andrew went on. 'Her parents are with her.' His pager went off and he glanced down at the screen. 'I have to go.' He patted Ailee on the back. 'Good luck.'
Eva's parents were sitting beside the bed, holding their daughter's hand, and Ailee went over to the nurse who was specialling Eva on the ventilator.
The machine breathed and hissed mechanically to provide oxygen to a person who would never recover or ever be able to breathe or think for herself. The tragedy was enormous.
'I'm Ailee Green, the transplant co-ordinator.'
The nurse was very young but remarkably composed. 'It's Dr Green, isn't it? I'm Sam, the family are waiting to speak to you. I told them you'd be here soon. I'll introduce you.'
Sam took Ailee across to the grieving parents. 'Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Ellis. This is Dr Green. She is the transplant co-ordinator we spoke about.'
A grief-ravaged woman in her early fifties held out her hand and her fingers were shaking in Ailee's grip. 'I'm Marion and this is my husband, John.'
Ailee squeezed the woman's hand. 'I'm Ailee. I'm so sorry to have to meet you like this and intrude on your grief at this time. The fact that your daughter has signed and carried a donor card tells us a little about how special a person she was. I know this is very hard to discuss but I will try to keep it as simple as possible.'
Marion nodded and Ailee went on. 'I understand you and your husband didn't know that Eva had signed a donor card?'
Both parents shook their head.
'So you were shocked?'
Marion nodded. 'It wasn't something we'd ever talked about. Now, seeing Eva like this, it would be like killing our own daughter to give away her organs. We don't know what to do.'
'I can see how you think that.' Ailee reached out and took Marion's hand. Her voice was very soft and very gentle. 'You both know that the person you knew as Eva, your daughter, has gone. She can't ever come back except in your memories. Her brain has suffered such a loss of oxygen that it cannot even tell her body to breathe for her. If the machine wasn't inflating her lungs, she would have died hours ago.'
Ailee stopped to let her words sink in. She couldn't imagine the pain these parents must be going through at this moment, and for a second she doubted she could control her own emotions.
Then she thought of Jody—a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, except she'd needed a new kidney and pancreas—and how the incredible gift bestowed by her donor and their family had changed her life. Surely it was unnecessary to waste Eva's perfectly functioning organs when Eva herself had seen the value in the concept.
'To give you some idea, we had a young woman on our transplant ward who went home this week. She is a wonderfully intelligent young woman, much like I imagine your daughter was, and has a lovely sense of humour. A month ago she was going to die because her kidneys had both stopped working and dialysis was making her sicker. She has had severe diabetes since she was ten.'
Ailee paused to see if they were following the story.
'On Monday she went home with not only a new kidn
ey but a new pancreas as well. Amazingly, she isn't even a diabetic now. This young woman's life is possible because of wonderful people like you and your daughter who have made the decision to donate their organs after they have died.'
'Does the donor—' Marion stumbled over the word '—family, get to meet the person who has their relative's organs?'
'Not usually. But this woman I mentioned is writing a letter that I will pass on to the family. Of all the people who know what a huge thing this is for the donor family to agree to, the recipients are the most aware. They actually find it very hard to get over how fortunate they are.'
Marion nodded and turned to her husband who nodded back. 'Eva was a very caring person. She would hate to think we wasted her organs when she didn't need them any more.'
John spoke for the first time. 'We can't let our little girl down on this, Marion.' The balding man's eyes were brimming with tears. 'It's what she wanted and it's the last thing we can do for our baby.'
'If you both agree, Eva's donation will help a lot of people—not just one or two. In a week or so I will let you know just how much your daughter's donation is going to change the lives of so many people.'
Marion blew her nose and sniffed. 'How does it happen and will you be there?'
'I won't be in the actual operation room but I will be co-ordinating from the outside. I can arrange for you to speak to someone who will be at the operation, though.'
Marion looked at her husband and he nodded. 'Yes. Please. I think we need that.'
'I'll arrange that. We also need to know if there are any organs or tissue restrictions you would like me to pass on to the transplant team. Some people do have restrictions and we respect that.'
Marion looked across at John and he shook his head slowly. 'They can take whatever will help someone else.
The real essence of our daughter is at rest—she doesn't need her body any more.'
'I'll come back this evening after I've organised the teams and set up the paperwork. We need to have blood taken for tissue-typing and other checks and we need to know if your daughter had any illnesses and about her general health.'
Ailee contacted the transplant data office and the patient's details were entered. The computer assimilated the information and allocated the organs to those most in need and who were compatible.
There was one phone call she was dreading. She'd run through who on the transplant or harvest team she would contact to meet Eva's parents, and the most obvious choice was the man in charge.
Ailee had no doubt that despite Fergus's behaviour towards her at the moment, he would be a very caring advocate to introduce to the grieving parents.
'Mr McVicker? It's Ailee Green. I'm sorry to bother you at your surgery but I have a favour to ask.'
'Yes, Ailee?' There was an expectant note in his voice but she was too anxious to try and figure it out.
'The family of the young woman donor that came in today would like to speak to someone who will be present during the operation. Would you speak to them for me, please, before you scrub?'
'Of course. I'll meet them in ICU at seven. Is that all?'
Ailee sighed with relief. 'Yes, thanks,' she said, and as she tried to put the phone down she realised she'd have to consciously release her fingers because she'd been gripping the receiver far too fiercely.
The afternoon passed swiftly and it had been dark for an hour when Ailee returned with Fergus to the parents.
'This is Mr McVicker. He's the renal surgeon and in charge at the moment of the transplants in this hospital.'
Fergus shook hands with Marion and John. 'Please, accept my sincere sympathy for the loss of your daughter and the difficult situation you are in.'
Marion nodded and Fergus went on, 'I want you to know that the operation is performed with every respect and dignity by each of the very experienced transplant teams who will come to our hospital.'
Eva's parents nodded. 'The operations can take between six and eight hours and are carried out as sterile operations, of course. Afterwards we do repair any incisions we make.'
Fergus answered a few more questions and then it was time for him to go to Theatre.
Marion and John went once more into Intensive Care and then they were ready to leave. 'So we will be able to see Eva's body after the operation?'
Ailee nodded. 'Tomorrow morning I'll come and take you to our chapel in the mortuary, where you can spend as much time as you wish.'
'Thank you, Ailee.'
'Thank you. You have made the right decision. We all appreciate your kindness in following this through during your immense grief. Your daughter's legacy will live on through those she helps.'
'We know. It's just hard to think of it at the moment.' Marion squeezed her husband's hand and Ailee bit her hp.
'Of course. This isn't the time to worry about that. Please, try and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning. It was what Eva wanted and it takes courage to make this decision.'
Marion looked sadly at Ailee. 'We don't feel brave, just heartbroken.'
Ailee watched them walk away arm in arm, leaning on each other, and she felt tears well into her eyes. She brushed her hand across her face as she tried to contain her tears, at least until she reached the safety of her office, but as she pushed open the door the heartbreak overwhelmed her.
'I knew you'd be upset,' he said softly.
Fergus leant against the wall and pushed himself off when she entered. He held open his arms and her brain said no as her heart steered her into the comfort of his embrace. She sobbed quietly for a minute or two to ease the strain of staying strong for the last few hours, and he just held her gently until the storm was over.
Despite her tears, she did feel better and Ailee lifted her ravaged face to thank him, but that thought caught and died as they stared at each other. There was nothing either of them could do as a force greater than their wills drew them together for a single, healing kiss.
'No.' Ailee stepped back out of his arms and her hand came up to cover her mouth. 'You said you wouldn't.'
'I did, didn't I?' Fergus looked at her and she couldn't read the expression on his face. 'I'm sorry,' he said, and walked out of the office. She felt like crying again, for a different reason.
The next morning, Thursday, when Ailee went to meet Marion and John to take them to the mortuary, Fergus was with them. He had his arm around Marion, whose face was streaked with tears.
Fergus looked as if he'd had twelve hours' sleep, instead of having operated all night, and only the lines around his eyes betrayed his tiredness. As Ailee came closer there was no weariness in his voice.
'You can ring my surgery if you have any other questions and I'll phone you back as soon as I can.'
He looked up. His eyes darkened with concern when he saw Ailee, as if he knew how hard this was for her, and she was transported back to their kiss yesterday. Then he looked away and she felt cold. How did he do that?
Fergus spoke to the bereaved parents. 'Here's Dr Green. I have to go.' He shook hands with John and to Ailee's surprise hugged Marion again. 'It's been a privilege meeting you both.'
They all watched Fergus move away and John reached over and took his wife's hand. He looked at Ailee and then the sign that pointed the way to the chapel. 'Let's say goodbye to our daughter, love.'
By the time Ailee had made-it back to the ward she felt emotionally shattered by sharing Marion and John's grief again.
After the last twenty-four hours she admired the injured Maureen, the woman she was replacing at the moment, more than ever to be able to constantly deal with such emotive issues day in and day out as a transplant co-ordinator.
As soon as she walked into the ward her pager went off, just as Rita appeared breathlessly beside her.
'Ailee.' Rita gulped air. 'Mr McVicker is looking for you. The page is from the operating theatres. Emma is bleeding and they need more help. The extra team had to leave and are tied up in a critical trauma case down in Emergency. Fergu
s wants to know if you can assist in Theatre Six.'
Ailee felt her stomach drop at the thought of Emma with a major haemorrhage. 'Answer the page. I'm on my way.'
Ailee turned and ran out the door. She didn't bother waiting for the lifts. It was only two flights and the stairwell came out beside the operating suite. She'd surgically assisted Dr Harry there for twelve months before going off to Scotland and she knew the way.
Ailee pushed through the plastic doors. Ominously, there was no one in the reception area. Obviously everyone was caught up with the emergency. She slipped into the change room and changed into her theatre scrubs faster than she'd ever done in her life.
When she entered the scrub room, a spare gown and two pairs of gloves were waiting for her, and before she'd finished drying her hands the scout nurse came in to tie her gown.
'What's happening?' Ailee struggled with her gloves while the nurse finished tying her gown.
'The transplanted kidney was seated and blood supply established and everything was routine. The other surgeon left for the emergency downstairs but then Mr McVicker suspected a hidden bleeder and the new registrar hasn't enough experience to cope.
'Mr McVicker asked for help and the anaesthetist— you know how Andrew likes to bend the rules—said there was no one else except you. The kidney is at risk let alone the patient.'
'Nice to be the last hope.' Ailee was finished and spun around to enter the theatre.
'You had our vote.' The nurse glanced through the window into the theatre to make sure the way was clear for the sterile-gowned Ailee to enter.
'You're finally here.' Fergus looked up and his expression appeared grim.
'What can I do?' Ailee answered calmly as she stood beside the shaking registrar and peered into the wound that was awash with bright blood.
'I need some vision through this blood and with only two of us we don't have enough hands.'
'I'll take the sucker.' Ailee spoke to the registrar who thankfully handed over the plastic nozzle. 'You take the retractor and pull from that angle with two hands. It will be easier now.'
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