Yankee Surgeon (11 page)

“Not as far as I
’
ve heard.” She hoped that would satisfy him. But it didn
’
t.

“Has something happened then?” He was relentless.

“Well,
yes ...
sort of.” Sally wished she could make some excuse to end the conversation. She was being slowly driven into a corner and she knew it.

“You mean something like that rocket you got from the theater super this morning?”

Sally nodded and then, in desperation pleaded, “John, can
’
t you leave it at that?”

“Can I have a guess? The powers-that-be have ticked you off and you
’
re not supposed to talk about it? Am I correct?”

“Yes, John, and please don
’
t ask me any more. I
’
d tell you if I could.”

“Okay, honey. One last question
...
did anything I say get you into trouble?”

“No, John.”

She was being honest, she reminded herself. Matron hadn
’
t sent for her because
of John ...
not directly. Claris
’
s dislike of her might have started the train of action, but she didn
’
t even know who had gone to
Matron...

“Sorry, honey. I guess I
’
ve been a bit mean pestering you with questions and all. It
’
s just that I
’
m sort of disappointed.” He looked at her. “I had a kind of feeling this morning when we were up on top of that rock that you were my kind of girl, but I guess I could be wrong. But don
’
t let it worry you, Sally. Things have a habit of working out.
’
Night, sweetie, and I
’
ll be seeing you ... sometime.” He patted her on the cheek as he had this morning, but this time his eyes were wistful.

He was gone before Sally could think of a reply and the staff
room seemed very empty and very lonely and the folding of gauze so tedious. As a penance for her unintentional unkindness to John she made herself finish the roll of gauze, stitch all the mops that were in the dressing bag into bundles of six, and fill the glove boxes to the very brim with freshly powdered new gloves.

At last it was all done and there was a full half-hour before she was supposed to go to supper. Restlessly she crossed to the window and looked down into the courtyard. It was almost empty. Not an ambulance could be seen anywhere and the lighted panel outside Casualty flashed on and
off ...
on and off. Sally leaned out farther to see whether the big red car was there or not, but it was too dark. Before she could move the door opened behind her.

“Looking for that red car again, Sally? You
’
re getting into bad habits, you know.” George said cheerfully.

Sally scrambled back into a more dignified position. “Don
’
t tease, George, please.”

“So it
’
s like that, is it? Or could it be because I saw a certain staff nurse standing on Matron
’
s mat?”

“I didn
’
t see you,” Sally said quickly.

“I know you didn
’
t. I was tucked away in Switchboard
’
s little cubicle wishing it was wired for
sound ...
it
’
s time someone shoved a microphone behind one of Matron
’
s pictures.”

Sally shivered. “I
’
m glad they haven
’
t,” she said fervently. “Some things are better private.”

“Like that, is it? Shall I tell you what I know?” George asked quietly.

Sally spoke without thinking. “Who did tell then, George?”

“Claris did,” George said grimly.

“Claris? But
how...?”
Sally was almost spluttering in her astonishment.

“I don
’
t mean she went to Matron or anything like that. It was much more clever, and what
’
s more, no one could prove that it was deliberate.”

“Stop talking in riddles, George! What do you mean?” Sally was impatient.

“Keep your hair on! I
’
ll make it short and snappy for you. Well, Claris was in the Residents
’
corridor holding forth about it to that mousy little H.P.—you know, the new one on Infants. And it seems one of the junior sisters was checking up on what the maids were doing and heard enough to go haring off to Matron.”

“But Claris didn
’
t know about our breakfast,” Sally said flatly.

George looked uncomfortable. “I didn
’
t tell you, but I bumped into the head chef when I was coming out of the kitchen. He didn
’
t say anything
...
just gave me a dirty look. So I didn
’
t borrow trouble and kept my mouth shut. So he must have beaten a track to Matron
’
s door as well.” He groaned. “Somehow we seemed to stir up a tricky brew last night. Was that all or had someone else seen you depart on your joy ride?”

“So you did see us then,” Sally said unhappily.

George nodded. “If you had simply walked to the car I don
’
t suppose I
’
d have noticed, but all your cloak and dagger antics shrieked for attention. Where did you go—or is that indiscreet?”

Sally shook her head. “We went to a common the other side of Croydon to get a breath of fresh air ... that
’
s all.”

“That
’
s a long way ... hope you remembered to take several breaths! Whew! You must have traveled on wings, or has he got a helicopter tucked away somewhere? He walked into Outpatients just ahead of me.”

“He
’
s found a back street route,” Sally explained.

“Has he now? I
’
m beginning to wonder if he hasn
’
t found a back street route into other territory as well,” George said somewhat bitterly.

Sally stared at him. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.

George gave her a grin but his eyes were suddenly bleak. “If my guess is right, you
’
ll know what I mean. Good night, Sally, and remember to call on Uncle George if you want the pieces picked up any time.”

The door closed behind him with a very definite click and she could hear his footsteps going steadily down the corridor.

Sally sighed. It definitely wasn
’
t her night tonight. She had only been on duty a few hours and already she had upset two men. It was time to go to supper and take part in the carefree chatter of her own set.

“I
’
m going to supper, Bill. Anything cooking?”

She could hear the clicking of the plugs being moved in and out before Switchboard spoke.

“Nothing definite, Nurse Conway. Just some of the senior surgical staff still wandering about, but whether they
’
re sitting on something or not, I haven
’
t been able to get a line on it.”

“Who
’
s wandering, Bill?” Sally was surprised at her curiosity.

There was a chuckle. “Won
’
t help you much. The American surgeon for one and Dr. Brown for another—though strictly speaking they
’
re off—and the R.S.O. Don
’
t you worry yourself. I
’
ll keep you posted.”

Sally put down the phone and went to supper. She was the first one there and took a seat where she could face the door and watch the others coming in. She would be able to tell from their faces if any of her set had picked up what had been happening.

“Hi, Conway. Resting for a change? You did pick some tough ones last night!”

It was the staff nurse from Men
’
s Surgical.

Sally smiled at her. “Having trouble with young Mike?”

“Not trouble exactly ... not the way you mean it. I suppose he
’
s a bit delirious really, but I can only understand about one word in ten
...
it
’
s mostly about racing. I suppose he thinks he
’
s still on
it ...
poor devil.”

“You mean he thinks he
’
s crashing all over again?”

“Not on your life! He
’
s daring some other chap to go faster!”

“The other boy was killed, wasn
’
t he?” Sally said soberly. “But I don
’
t suppose anyone will tell Mike ...
yet. How is he?”

“Amazing is the only word. I expect it
’
s the dope that
’
s making him talkative. Temp and pulse up a bit but then you
’
d worry if they weren
’
t after all that
’
s happened to him, and apart from that there really isn
’
t any need for him to be on the danger list.”

“Sally! What
’
s this I hear about your being on the mat for...?” It was the staff nurse from Maternity, but before she could complete her sentence,
Sally heard her name called.

“Staff Nurse Conway, could you come right away?” It was Night Sister in the doorway behind her was standing a tall figure with fair
hair...

Sally got to her feet. It was like watching a film retake, but the sound track had changed.

“Yes, Sister. Is there a case?”

It was John who answered her. “Sorry to have to drag you away from your supper. It
’
s a case the R.S.O. was about to do but his wife
’
s not so well and I
’
m doing it for him.”

Sally glanced in the night sister
’
s direction but the other woman was leaving it to John to continue.

“It
’
s probably a renal calculus ... he
’
s got all the symptoms of severe renal colic but since he
’
s only got one kidney I guess we don
’
t take any chances. Claris will be assisting. We
’
ll try the ureteric bougies first t
o
see if we can push it.

Sally felt the familiar pattern of theater routine flowing smoothly as she moved into the background for the first part of the procedure. She wouldn
’
t have to scrub up unless operation was necessary. The two nurses put the patient
’
s legs up in the lithotomy stirrups and moved up the cystoscopy trolley and adjusted the height of the stool for Dr. Tremayne.

“Let
’
s have a squint at those X-rays again. Can you put up that third one, Dr. Stornoway?”

Sally tensed herself as she saw the house surgeon hesitate. She could see that John was waiting too. A minute seemed to crawl very slowly before Claris moved forward and put the film on the viewing screen.

“Okay. Thanks.” John studied it thoughtfully. “We might just be lucky. Smythe, do you think we could try one of your fancy relaxants?”

Dr. Smythe looked a trifle startled. “Yes, I think so. How long a period of relaxation do you require?”

“Five minutes will do me. If I can
’
t shift it then, it
’
s too risky keeping on trying when the old boy only has one kidney.”

“Fair enough. I
’
ll give him the minimum dose and I shan
’
t have to tube him. Let me know when you
’
re ready.”

Sally had called the two nurses over to her and was explaining the procedure to them in a low undertone.

The patient, who was the center pivot on which all action was turning, drowsed on, the toxins seeping into his bloodstream carrying him closer and closer to the point of no return. He stirred a little as the surgeon inserted the cystoscope into his bladder, but didn
’
t rouse.

“If someone will switch the cystoscope on and the lights out maybe I can see what I
’
m chasing.”

The sudden darkness made the theater feel hot and airless like a train tunnel and Sally sensed that she was unconsciously trying to breathe more deeply.

“Got
it ...
let
’
s try it now.”

“Say a nice prayer, everyone!”

Sally could just make out the surgeon
’
s hands as he moved the cystoscope slightly and made gentle stabbing motions. Time seemed to trickle
slowly ...
like the grains of sand in an hourglass. All sounds seemed to stand out
distinctly ...
a dripping tap
...
the slight hissing of the oxygen ... the pinging of a moth against a window pane ... the remote noise of a car driving too fast through night-
lit streets...

John
’
s voice came suddenly “Done it! We
’
ve done it! It
’
s not much to gaze on; but you
’
re not likely to see another like it.”

Dr. Smythe
’
s voice cut through the excitement. “Lights, please!”

Sally
’
s hand went automatically to the theater switch behind her and the sudden blaze seemed to hurt like a blow. She moved swiftly toward the anesthetist
’
s side, and stared down at the patient
’
s face. A blueish tinge was fading rapidly from the skin and only the tips of the lobes of the ears gave warning that the patient was needing still more oxygen.

“Having trouble your end, Smythe?”

“He
’
ll do now, I think.”

“Well, boys and girls,” John announced, “sorry to disappoint you but we won
’
t have to do a big operation tonight. So you can toddle off to your beds and thank you all very much. Sorry to have bothered you for nothing, Dr. Stornoway. Could you see about a follow-up X-ray for the old boy?”

It took but minutes to empty the theater and Sally was left staring at the covered sterile trolleys. Where was John? He must have gone long ago and he hadn
’
t popped his head in to say good night like the others. Perhaps he had forgotten
...
perhaps he had been called to see one of the patients ... perhaps he had gone to bed. After all he hadn
’
t been in bed very long the night
before...

“Hi, Sally! Stop daydreaming and come and get your coffee.” John
’
s teasing voice broke into her thoughts and she dropped the pair of forceps she was oiling on to the floor with a clatter.

“Naughty ... naughty! That
’
s the taxpayers
’
money you
’
re being careless with, I guess.”

Sally bent and picked it up and put it back on the table. “I thought you had gone,” she said slowly.

“Gone ... when I had to go to all the trouble to organize a case for the theater so I could talk to you?” He grinned at her. “Come on, honey. My coffee doesn
’
t improve with keeping, you know.”

Sally followed him out into the corridor. “Where have you put it?”

“Put what? Oh, the coffee. It
’
s in the kitchen. Why?”

“Let
’
s have it in there. The surgeons
’
room wasn
’
t lucky last time.”

“Okay, if that
’
s what you want.
‘
Fraid Claris will come barging in again? She thinks I
’
ve hit the hay. I escorted her to the Residents
’
corridor only fifteen minutes ago. She couldn
’
t be knowing I
’
d nipped down the fire stairs, now could she?”

Sally sighed. “With Claris you never know, do you?”

“You never said a truer word! You sound a bit down in the mouth. Get some of that coffee inside you and you
’
ll feel as right as rain.” John picked up his own cup and took a large mouthful. “Nectar and
ambrosia ...
they
’
ve got nothing on this.”

“Won
’
t it keep you awake?” Sally found that the light, carefree spirit of last night had deserted her completely.

“Best nightcap out.” He looked at her sharply. “What
’
s biting you tonight, Sally? Got the jitters?”

She shivered suddenly. “Yes, I think I have,” she admitted.

“You mean because of what happened today?”

“No, I don
’
t think it
’
s that, altogether ... it
’
s just a feeling that something
’
s going to happen,” Sally said unhappily.

“Don
’
t go psychic on me! I
’
m not in the mood for that.” He put out a hand and laid it over hers. “Do you know something, honey? I think I could go for you in a big way.”

“Please,
John ...
don
’
t say things like that. It isn
’
t funny.”

“You
’
ve got me wrong. I was never more serious in all my life.”

How pale he was when he was tired, Sally found herself thinking. She didn
’
t feel any joy as the meaning of his w
o
rds sank in. She wasn
’
t ready for something serious ... not
yet ... not
with him ... or with anyone else. She had ambitions to attend to first. How to tell him that without hurting him ... to make him realize that friendship might be much more fun.

The phone next door rang suddenly and piercingly and at the same moment there came the sound of high heels on the stairs ... high heels that were coming this
way ...
high heels that were running urgently
...

Sally and John jumped to their feet and made for the door, Sally a little ahead as she wanted to answer the phone. But before she could pick up the receiver, Claris had reached them. She put out a hand and clutched John
’
s arm, and her face was white and strained.

“John! I
’
ve been hunting everywhere for you! The patient
’
s collapsed. Can you come right away?” Her voice sounded breathless but there was an undertone of something that could be fear.

“You mean the old boy we
’
ve just done? For the love of Mike, tell me what
’
s happened.” His, manner was rough and imperative.

“I don
’
t know ... I don
’
t know. You
’
d better come and see for yourself.”

“You bet I
’
m coming ... right this minute.”

Sally watched their hurrying figures go down the corridor and around the corner to the
stairs ...
no w
aiting for an elevator ... no time to tell her he
’
d let her know what
had happened ...
no chance for her to reply to his remark.