by Kate Hardy
‘And it’s really bad enough that I should have the operation tomorrow?’ Mr Jefferson asked.
‘Your arteries are severely narrowed,’ Luc said. ‘Right now that’s causing the pains in your chest, and the medication isn’t enough to stop the pain. But on top of that there’s a risk that one of the plaques will split and cause a blood clot that will completely block the blood supply to your heart and give you a heart attack. That could do a lot of damage to your heart muscle.’
‘And kill him?’ Mrs Jefferson asked.
‘We always try our best to save our patients but, yes, I have to tell you that’s a possibility,’ Luc said. ‘I know it’s a lot to take in, but we’d really like to keep you in overnight here and do the bypass tomorrow, Mr Jefferson.’
‘So will the operation cure him completely?’ Mrs Jefferson asked.
‘It will stop the pain and lower the risk of having a heart attack,’ Luc said.
‘But because you have coronary heart disease you’ll still need to look after your heart,’ Kelly added. ‘Your family doctor’s probably already told you what you need to do. Stopping smoking and eating better are brilliant, so definitely keep that up, and maybe add in a bit more gentle exercise.’
Mr Jefferson still looked terrified. ‘I hate needles. I can’t even make myself give blood, even though I know I ought to. Coming here today for this was bad enough.’
Kelly held his hand. ‘I know it’s scary now, but in the long run you’ll feel so much better. And your wife and daughter won’t have to worry about you as much as they do now. Luc’s really good at what he does, and so is the rest of our team. It’s natural to feel worried, and you’ll probably feel a bit wobbly at times after the operation—that’s absolutely normal. But the operation is really going to help you. You’re going to feel a lot better, and you’re not going to worry that your chest pain or breathlessness is going to stop you playing with your grandchildren.’
‘Are there risks?’ Mrs Jefferson asked.
Luc and Kelly exchanged a glance.
‘There are risks with all anaesthetic and surgical cases,’ Luc said. ‘But they’re small, and we’re experienced enough to know what to look out for and how to fix things. I know it all sounds really daunting, but there’s a greater risk if we don’t do the surgery.’
Mr Jefferson swallowed hard. ‘All right. I’ll do it.’
‘Good man.’ Luc rested his hand briefly on the older man’s shoulder. ‘We’ll get you settled in to the ward, and I’ll be doing rounds later if you have any questions. Dr Phillips will also be on hand if you need anything.’
‘Or talk to any of the nurses,’ Kelly added. ‘That goes for both of you.’
‘Thank you,’ Mrs Jefferson said.
* * *
Once Mr Jefferson was settled on the ward and had been put on a nitrate drip, Kelly went back to the cath lab. The rest of her clinic was more straightforward, to her relief, and she managed to catch up with Luc afterwards.
‘Thank you for talking to Mr Jefferson with me.’ She’d liked Luc’s warm, easy manner and the way he’d described things without being dramatic and terrifying their patient even more. He’d acknowledged Mr Jefferson’s fears and reassured him.
‘No problem,’ he said.
‘You actually do the surgery off-pump?’
He nodded. ‘I’m assuming that’s unusual for here, then?’
‘Yes, it is. I haven’t actually seen off-pump surgery done before.’ And it was the first time in a long time that Kelly had been interested in seeing something different—that her old passion for her job had resurfaced instead of being buried by the fear that she might have missed something and let a patient down, the way she’d let Simon down.
‘If you can spare the time, you’re welcome to scrub in and observe as much of the operation as you like,’ he offered.
‘I’d love to. I won’t be able to stay for the whole thing, but maybe I could come before or after my clinic tomorrow, if that’s OK?’
‘Whenever fits your schedule best,’ he said.
‘Thanks. I’m definitely taking you up on that.’
‘Actually, you can spread the word that I’m always happy to have observers,’ Luc said. ‘The actual operation is only a part of caring for our patient. I’m a great believer in all areas of the team knowing exactly what happens in the other parts of a care plan, and the more we all understand what each other does, the more we can work together and help our patients.’
‘That’s very much Sanjay’s approach as the head of the department,’ Kelly said. ‘Cross-fertilisation of ideas. And you’re welcome in my cath lab any time, as are any of your students.’
‘Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.’ He smiled. ‘So is Mr Jefferson settled in?’
She nodded. ‘His wife’s just gone home to pick up his things. She had a bit of a chat with me beforehand. She’s worrying about losing him.’
‘Understandable, in the circumstances,’ Luc said. ‘But that must’ve brought back some tough memories for you.’
She shrugged. ‘If anything, what happened to Simon has probably helped me empathise a bit more with my patients and their partners.’ There had to be some good coming out of such a senseless death.
‘You’re still brave,’ Luc said, patting her shoulder.
Again, his touch made her feel all flustered. Which was crazy. She hardly knew him and this wasn’t supposed to happen. ‘You have to get on with things,’ she said.
As if realising that she desperately wanted him to change the subject, Luc said, ‘So Mr Jefferson’s on his own and he’s got time to worry, then. I’ll go and sit with him for a bit. Catch you later.’
Surgeons had a reputation for arrogance, Kelly thought, the next morning, but Luc Bianchi definitely wasn’t one of them. Yesterday he’d deliberately taken time to sit with a nervous patient and reassure him. Today, he was courteous to the rest of the team in the operating theatre, asking them to do things rather than barking instructions at them, and even checking that they were OK with his choice of music to work to; and he’d made it clear that he was happy to explain anything he was doing and why.
She was fascinated by the glimpses she had of the off-pump bypass surgery where just the small area he was working on was kept still and the rest of the heart was visibly pumping. As a student, she’d been fascinated by cutting-edge treatments. Since Simon’s death, she’d focused on keeping things safe and steady. Work hadn’t been a chore, exactly, but she’d become hyper-focused. She managed to be there for the end of the op too, when Luc was closing up; his movements were deft and very sure.
‘Thanks for letting me sit in,’ she said before he went to scrub out. ‘Can I buy you lunch and ask you a ton of questions about the op?’
‘I’d be delighted to have lunch with you and answer anything I can,’ he said, ‘but I’m paying. I might have to rush back here if the team beeps me too.’
In other words, if Peter Jefferson developed any complications before he came round in the intensive care unit. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Thank you. I’ll see you when you’ve scrubbed out.’
* * *
The more time Luc spent with Kelly Phillips, the more he liked her. The kind, calm way she treated her patients; her inquisitive mind; the way she treated all her colleagues with respect.
‘Was that really the first OPCABG you’ve seen?’ he asked when he’d scrubbed out and joined her.
‘Your predecessor preferred working on pump,’ she said. ‘So, yes, it was my first off-pump bypass graft. And it was fascinating.’
‘And you have questions?’
‘Absolutely. Let’s get lunch, and I’ll pick your brain,’ she said with a smile.
She asked a lot of questions. All bright, thoughtful questions. Luc answered to the best of his ability, and finally she nodded.
‘Thank you. I
understand a lot more, now. But the most important thing is that you’ve made a real difference to Peter Jefferson’s life.’
‘We’re not quite out of the woods yet,’ he said. ‘But I hope so.’
* * *
Over the next couple of days, Peter Jefferson moved from the intensive care area to the ward. But, when Kelly came to see him on Friday morning during her ward round, he started crying. ‘This is so pathetic. I can’t understand why I feel like this. I was a finance director, used to making decisions and dealing with huge sums of money, and now I’m crying all over the place and it’s just not me. And I can barely even get out of bed without help.’ He looked despairing. ‘Now I’m just a shuffling old man.’
She sat on the bed next to him and held his hand. ‘You’ve been through major surgery, Mr Jefferson. Lots and lots of people feel like this afterwards. You’ll have good days and you’ll have wobbly days. But the rehab programme will really help you, because you’ll meet other people who are going through it too or are a couple of weeks further down the line than you are, and that will help you realise that what’s happening to you and how you’re feeling is all perfectly normal. It’s going to take time to get you back on your feet and doing the same things you did before you had surgery, but you will get there. Just be kind to yourself.’
Luc walked onto the ward at that moment. ‘Good morning,’ he said with a smile. ‘I just popped in to say hello to you before I go into the operating theatre today.’
Mr Jefferson wiped his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being so stupid.’
‘You’ve had major surgery with a general anaesthetic. Of course you feel wobbly,’ Luc said. ‘Tell me, do you play chess?’
‘I do.’
‘Good. I’ll get a board sorted out and I’m challenging you during my lunch break. I might be a bit late,’ he said, ‘depending on how the operation goes this morning, but I’ll definitely be in to have a cup of tea and a chess match with you, OK?’
‘But—you’ll have been so busy this morning.’
‘And a game of chess is the perfect way to relax,’ Luc said. ‘As long as you don’t mind me eating a sandwich at the same time. I’m horrendously grumpy if I don’t eat regularly.’
‘Thank you, Dr Bianchi. That’s—that’s so kind of you.’ Peter Jefferson wiped his eyes again.
‘I’ll see you soon,’ Luc said, patting his hand.
‘I need to see my next patient,’ Kelly said, ‘but I’ll pop back later, too.’ She walked out with Luc. ‘That’s really nice of you.’
‘I just want my patients to be comfortable.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a chess board on the ward?’
‘Probably not, but I might be able to borrow one from Paediatrics. I’ll get that organised—and a sandwich for you. What would you like?’
‘I eat anything, so the first thing you grab off the shelf will be fine,’ Luc said. ‘Thanks, and I’ll settle up with you later.’ He paused. ‘Are you at the team thing tonight?’
‘The ten-pin bowling? No, I’m working. Are you?’
‘Yes. I thought it’d be a good way to get to know the team.’
‘It is.’ She smiled. ‘Have a good time.’
‘Thank you.’
To her relief, he didn’t push to see if she was going to any of the other team events. She liked her colleagues very much—but going out was a strain. Too many people trying to push her into being sociable when she was really much happier here at work, making a difference to her patients’ lives.
* * *
Luc spent the morning in Theatre fixing an aortic aneurysm on an elderly woman, his lunchtime with Peter Jefferson, and his afternoon in Theatre sorting out a narrowed aortic valve in a teenage boy suffering from severe breathlessness.
By the time he got to the bowling alley, he was glad of the chance to let off steam. Though he learned from his colleagues that Kelly hardly ever joined team events nowadays. Because she was still mourning her husband? He needed to tread carefully.
He didn’t see her again until Monday morning. ‘How was your chess match?’ Kelly asked.
‘It was fine,’ he said. ‘I think Peter was glad of the company. He was beating himself up a bit because he was shuffling, and just taking those few little steps exhausted him.’
‘Two days before that, he was in Theatre, having major surgery. He’s doing brilliantly,’ she said.
‘That’s what I told him. I said that my patients always worry that it’ll take ages to get fully back on their feet, and at the same time they’re terrified of overdoing things in case it makes them have a relapse. How he’s feeling is how all my patients feel.’
‘I’ll make sure I reassure him about the rehab sessions,’ Kelly said.
‘I assume it’s the same as we did at the Royal Hampstead Free—an exercise programme tailored to the patient and graded so they can see their progress?’
She nodded. ‘Plus there will be plenty of professionals there, he’ll have a monitor attached during the exercises so we can keep an eye on his heart rate, his blood pressure and his pulse. The team will help each patient progress at the right pace for them, and their safety is paramount.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Did you see your sister’s scan photo, by the way?’
‘Yes.’ She took a photograph from her wallet and handed it to him. ‘They’re going to call the baby Reuben if he’s a boy, and Emma if she’s a girl.’
‘Lovely.’ His fingers accidentally touched hers, and again he felt that inappropriate zing. To stop himself thinking about it, he asked, ‘So were you right and Susie had someone lined up to partner you at dinner?’
‘Yes, and he was very sweet and very charming. He understood when I explained that it wasn’t him, I just don’t want to date.’ She grimaced. ‘My best friend’s doing exactly the same thing this weekend. She’s arranged pizza and tickets to a stand-up comedy thing for a group of us, and I know I’m going to end up sitting next to the eligible single man in the group. I know they love me and they mean well, but...’ She shook her head. ‘Sometimes I’m so tempted to invent a fake boyfriend, just to get them to back off.’
A fake boyfriend?
That wasn’t so very far from the marriage of convenience he had in mind.
‘Maybe you should,’ Luc said carefully.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Except then they’d insist on meeting him. And it’s not really fair to ask someone to—well, be my fake boyfriend and lie to everyone for me.’
She could ask me, Luc thought—or maybe I can ask her. He wanted to get to know her a little better first, but he was beginning to think they really could help each other. ‘If you explained the situation to someone suitable, I’m sure he’d be happy to help you out.’
‘Really?’
For a second, he thought she was going to ask him, and his heart actually skipped a beat.
But then she spread her hands. ‘I might think about that a bit more. But thank you for the male insight.’
If he nudged her to think about it a bit more, then hopefully she’d be receptive when he finally asked her a similar question...
CHAPTER THREE
OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, Luc found himself working with Kelly on their patients’ care between the cath lab and the operating theatre, where she needed to do the investigations and liaise with him about potential surgery. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her. The way she put everyone at ease, the way she told terrible jokes, the way she made the day feel brighter just because she was in it.
In other circumstances, he would’ve been so tempted to ask her out on a date. But she’d told him she wasn’t ready to move on after losing her husband, and he had a political tightrope to walk in Bordimiglia. So he’d enjoy her friendship and he’d just have to start mentally naming every blood vessel in the body, from the internal carotid artery down to the d
orsal digital artery, to stop himself thinking of anything else.
But on Sunday afternoon his eldest sister called him.
‘Is everything OK, Elle?’ he asked. He and Eleonora usually managed to grab a few words during the week, but there was something slightly antsy about her tone.
‘Ye—es.’
‘But?’
‘Babbo wants to start taking things easier. He told me yesterday that he’s planning to step down at some point in the next year,’ Eleonora said.
Meaning that King Umberto was expecting his wayward son to give up his job as a surgeon, come home and take his rightful place on the throne? So the clock he’d pretty much managed to ignore, thanks to its silence, had just started to tick. ‘Is that Elle-speak for “come home right now”?’ he asked wryly.
‘No, I’m just putting you in the picture so you know what our father’s thinking. He’ll probably summon you home to talk about it at some time in the next month, though,’ Eleonora warned.
Summon him home. Normal people of his age were happy to visit their parents; whereas Luc knew a visit home wouldn’t be time to catch up with each other and enjoy each other’s company. It would be another chance for his father to nag him about his future in the monarchy, and he’d end up having another argument with his father. He sighed. ‘Elle, you and I both know you’d make a better ruler than I would. So does our father. And you’re the oldest. It’s ridiculous. This is the twenty-first century. It makes absolutely no sense that, even though I’m second-born, I should be the heir just because I have a Y chromosome.’
‘It’s how things are.’
He could hear the resignation in her voice. ‘Well, things need to change. It’s time our father modernised the monarchy.’
She sighed. ‘I hate it when you fight.’
‘Elle, I’m a cardiac surgeon. I’ve spent half my life either studying to become a doctor or practising medicine—and I’m good at what I do. I can make a real difference to my patients and their families, give people a second chance at life. That’s such an amazing thing to be able to do. And I want to stay here for a couple more years, get experience in all the cutting-edge surgical developments. Then I can bring it home to Bordimiglia and set up a world-class cardiac centre.’ And he’d name it after his best friend. So Giacomo would never be forgotten.
