Leah Martyn – Wedding in Darling Downs (страница 7)

‘Good grief,’ Declan said faintly after Jodi had swished out of the door. ‘Do you get the feeling we’re the ones who have just been interviewed?’

Emma chuckled. ‘It’s the Gen Y thing. They’re inclined to set out terms and conditions to prospective employers. But isn’t she marvellous?’

‘Made me feel about a hundred and six,’ Declan growled. ‘Hell, was I ever that young and enthusiastic about life?’

Emma stood and pushed her chair back in. ‘Probably we both were.’

‘Mmm.’ Declan’s tone was non-committal. ‘Well, we seem to have made a dint in what needs to be done here so, if you’re ready, I’d like to see over your hospital.’

Chapter Three

BENDEMERE’S hospital was old but beautifully kept. Declan looked around with growing interest. ‘This place has a long history, obviously,’ he remarked.

‘My grandfather actually funded the building of it,’ Emma said proudly. ‘These days, much of the accommodation is given over to nursing home beds for our seniors. Anything acute is sent straight on to Toowoomba by road ambulance. Or, in the case of serious trauma, we stabilise as best we can and chopper the patient out to Brisbane.’

‘Do you have a theatre?’ Declan began striding ahead, his interest clearly raised.

‘A small one—just here.’ She turned into an annexe and indicated the big oval window that looked into the pristine operating space. ‘Dad did basic surgical procedures. And Rachel Wallace, our nurse manager, has extensive theatre experience. She insists the maintenance is kept up. Shame it’s not used any more…’

‘It’s all here though, isn’t it?’ Declan’s gaze roamed almost hungrily, left and right and back again, as if to better acquaint himself with the layout. ‘Who did the gas when your dad operated?’

‘Oliver Shackelton. He’s retired in the district. And, even though he won’t see seventy again, I know Dad trusted his skills to the nth degree.’

‘Interesting.’ Declan pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. This was his natural environment. But he didn’t belong here any longer. Suddenly, it all came at him in a rush, a heartbeat, the past coming forward to link with the present. He felt the sudden tightening of his throat muscles. It was over. He was finished as a surgeon. He couldn’t operate any more. At least not in any way that was meaningful—from his standpoint, at least…

‘Declan…are you OK?’

Declan’s head came up, looking at her without seeing. ‘Sorry?’

‘We should get on,’ she cajoled gently.

‘Yes, we should.’ He turned abruptly, as if to shut out the scene he’d walked into so unguardedly. He felt weird, in no way prepared for the hollow feeling in his gut as he snapped off the light and closed the double doors on the annexe.

Emma’s gaze moved over him. ‘Sure you’re OK?’

He saw the compassion in her eyes, the softening, felt her empathy. But he wasn’t a kid who needed to cry on her shoulder. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, his tone gruff as if brushing her concern aside. ‘Fill me in about hospital staff.’

Emma gave a mental shrug. He hadn’t fooled her for a minute. Well, if that was how he wanted to handle it, that was his business, his life. ‘I’ve sent out an email to the nurses to advise them you were joining the practice.’ She didn’t add they’d probably done their own research on the Internet in the meantime. ‘Rachel is our nurse manager,’ she reiterated as they made their way along to the station. ‘We have three other permanent RNs who alternate shifts and Dot Chalmers is permanent nights. Ancillary staff are rostered as necessary.’

‘Leave and sick days?’ Declan fell into step beside her.

‘Covered by a small pool of nurses who mainly live in the district.’

‘That seems like a reasonable set-up,’ Declan said. ‘I imagine the staff value their jobs quite highly.’

‘And the folk hereabouts value them,’ Emma said, leaving him in no doubt that any changes there would be unacceptable. Just in case he was thinking along those lines.

‘Hospital maintenance is covered by a local firm, as is security. And Betty Miller is our indispensable hospital cook.’

Declan nodded, taking everything on board. He began to quicken his pace.

‘Patients now?’

Emma rolled her eyes. He’d have to learn to slow down if he was going to relate to the locals. ‘Is there a fire somewhere?’ she enquired innocently.

‘Forgot.’ He sent her a twisted grin. ‘I’m keen to get cracking, that’s all.’

‘Hello, people.’ Rachel, tall and slender, came towards them, her nimbus of auburn hair stark against the white walls of the hospital corridor. ‘And you are Dr O’Malley, I presume?’ Beaming, the nurse manager stuck her hand out towards Declan.

‘I am.’ Declan shook her hand warmly. ‘And it’s Declan. I’ve just been getting the lay of the land from Emma. It looks like a great little hospital.’

‘We’re proud of it.’ Rachel spun her gaze between the two medical officers. ‘Um—I was just on my way for a cuppa.’

‘Don’t let us hold you up,’ Emma insisted. Despite it being a small hospital, she knew the nurses worked hard and deserved their breaks.

‘OK, then. I won’t be long.’ Rachel began to move away and then turned back. ‘I knew you’d be along so I’ve pulled the charts on our current patients.’

‘Take your time.’ Emma smiled. ‘And thanks, Rach. We’ll be fine.’

‘I guess you know this place like the back of your hand,’ Declan surmised as they made their way along to the nurses’ station.

Emma sent him a quick look. It still seemed surreal that this once highly ambitious, powerful man was now to all intents and purposes her practice partner. Her hand closed around the small medallion at her throat. No doubt, for the moment, the newness of what he’d taken on was enough to keep him motivated. But what would happen when the grind of family practice began to wear thin? Where would his motivation be then?

In a dry little twist of quirky humour, Emma transposed the scenario into equine terms. Surely what Declan was proposing was like expecting a thoroughbred racer to feel fulfilled pulling a plough…

‘Something amusing you, Emma?’ Declan lifted a dark brow.

‘Not really,’ she said, going behind the counter and collecting the charts Rachel had left out.

‘OK, who’s the first cab off the rank?’ Declan asked, settling on one of the high stools next to her.

‘Russell Kernow, age seventy-five, lives alone,’ Emma said. ‘I saw him at the surgery a week ago. He was presenting with an incessant cough, raised temperature. I prescribed roxithromycin. His condition didn’t improve and I admitted him two days ago. He was seriously dehydrated, complained his chest felt tight. I’ve placed him on an inhaler twice daily and the cough seems to have diminished slightly. I’ve sent bloods off as well.’

‘So, you’re testing for what—serology, pertussis, mycoplasma?’

‘Plus legionella,’ Emma said.

Declan raised a dark brow. ‘Is that a possibility?’

‘A remote one, but Russell’s house is fully air-conditioned. He spends much of his time indoors. And we’ve since found out the filters on his air-con unit haven’t been changed for two years.’

‘Still…legionella is drawing a fairly long bow,’ Declan considered.

Emma bristled. If he was going to start telling her her job, they were going to fall out before the ink was dry on their partnership papers.

Their eyes met. He could see the spark of hostility in her gaze. Hell, he didn’t want to blow things with her before they even got off the ground. ‘Just thinking aloud,’ he said hastily. ‘It’s your call. When do you expect the results?’

‘Soonish,’ Emma said, faintly mollified. ‘I’ve requested the path lab to fax them to us here.’ She turned, stroking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Next patient is Sylvia Gartrell, age sixty-five. Recently had surgery—hysterectomy and bladder repair. Post-op seven days. The air ambulance delivered her to us yesterday.’

Declan ran his index finger between his brows. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘Her bladder function hasn’t yet returned to normal. She’s having to self-catheterise and she’s finding the procedure difficult to manage. Currently, the nurses are giving her some guidance. It seemed the safest option to have her here until she feels competent to go it alone. At the moment she’s convinced she’ll be stuck with this problem for ever so she needs emotional support as well.’

‘Why was she released from hospital in the first place?’

Emma sighed. ‘Same old story. They needed the bed.’

‘Oh, for crying out loud! We’ll need to keep a close eye on her, be mindful of the possibility of infection.’

‘We’re all aware of that, Declan.’

He sighed. ‘OK, then, who’s next on our patient list?’

‘Only one more. Ashleigh Maine, aged eleven. Poor little kid had a bad asthma attack yesterday. Scared the life out of her.’

‘So what’s her prognosis?’

‘She’s getting some relief from a nebuliser and of course she’s on a drip. Her home situation is not as good as it could be, though. Dad still smokes.’

Declan swore under his breath. ‘I realize tobacco is the drug some folk cling to when they’re under stress but surely, if his child is suffering, the man has to take stock of his actions?’

‘Normally, Ashleigh’s condition is fairly well managed but it only needs a change in routine and she’s struggling again.’