Cinderella And The Surgeon. Scarlet WilsonЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER ONE

      ESTHER MCDONALD RUBBED her eyes for the twentieth time as she made her way to work. She’d hoped the walk along the footpath next to the Thames would have woken her up a little, but it clearly wasn’t working.

      She’d pulled an extra shift last night working until midnight at another hospital in London. Anything to help pull in some extra cash. She already planned to text the agency again today to see if they had anything else for her.

      It wasn’t that her own job wasn’t well paid. It was and she loved working in the neonatal ICU at the Queen Victoria. But right now she needed every penny she could get. So that meant working every shift available.

      She was lucky. Because she was dual-trained she could work as a nurse or a midwife, which meant she had multiple opportunities for extra shifts. Usually she could pick up shifts at short notice for the A&E department in the Queen Victoria on her scheduled days off. But the duty manager had noticed how often she’d been working and had passed comment more than once. So, Esther had registered with an agency as well.

      She filed through the main doors of the hospital along with a whole host of other staff heading for the early shift. She was worried about a tiny preemie she’d been looking after for the last few days in ICU. Billy, the twenty-four-weeker with a heart defect, had seemed even more fragile than normal yesterday afternoon when she’d left. His young mother hadn’t left his side since he’d been born a few days earlier and was looking sicker and sicker herself. Esther just hoped the ‘wonder’ doc they’d all been talking about had finally managed to turn up to assess the little guy. Billy needed surgery that only a few neonatal cardiac surgeons could do. Trouble was, this guy had been over in France operating on another baby, so Billy had been left waiting.

      She tugged her pale blue scrubs over her head and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, catching a quick glance of herself in the changing room mirror. Ugh. She looked awful. The quick sweep of make-up she’d stuck on her face this morning couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes.

      As she headed to the stairs her stomach grumbled loudly. She’d been so tired she hadn’t had time to make breakfast this morning. She’d have to try and sweet-talk her colleagues into letting her take first break. One of the Queen Victoria’s freshly baked scones would easily fill the huge gap in her stomach. She smiled at the thought of it.

      ‘Morning,’ she said in her best bright voice as she entered the NICU, stowing her bag and washing her hands. She got a little buzz every time she walked through the door. It was everything, the lighting, the sounds, the staff and patients—even the smell. She’d done her nurse training in Edinburgh and came down to London to also complete her midwifery training. Only a few specialist centres offered the shortened eighteen-month training these days and she’d been delighted to join the programme at the Queen Victoria, joining in with an already partly trained direct entry midwifery programme. She’d made some of the best friends she’d ever had—and even though some of them had gone to other parts of the world now, they were all still in touch.

      The midwifery training had been a revelation for her. Esther had always imagined she’d end up as a community midwife, but from the first second she’d set foot in the NICU, she’d known that’s where her heart lay. There was something about the vulnerability of these tiny babies. The role of often being their safe-guarder in the first few days of their lives. The little bits of progress she could see every day.

      Of course, there could often be heartbreak. Her job was as much to take care of the families as it was to take care of the babies. But there was something so special about helping a preterm baby latch on to their mother for the first time. Or watching them become more aware of the world around them. Or seeing their reactions to lights or voices. Now she was here, she couldn’t imagine working any place else.

      One of the other midwives stood up and put her bag over her shoulder.

      Esther glanced at the chart. ‘How’s Billy doing?’ She checked the whiteboard, making sure she’d been assigned her favourite patient again today. Yip. Perfect. Billy, and a thirty-six-weeker in the next crib who’d been born to a diabetic mother in the early hours of the morning. That little one was likely just being monitored for a few hours to keep an eye on blood sugars.

      Ruth, the other midwife, sighed. ‘You look tired.’

      ‘I am. Weird. Extra shifts never usually bother me.’ Esther stretched out her back. ‘You know how things are. Win the lottery and give me a share and I promise I won’t work an extra shift again. Until then, I’ll take all I can get.’

      Ruth shot her a look and started the handover. ‘Billy hasn’t had a good night. His sats dropped, his feeding tube dislodged and X-ray haven’t been able to get back up to ensure the new one is in the correct place. Hence, his feeds haven’t started again.’

      Esther shook her head. She knew exactly how important it was to ensure the nasogastric feeding tube had gone into the stomach and not a baby’s lungs. No feeding could commence until it was confirmed.

      ‘I’ll call them again. If Callum’s working I’m sure he can get someone up here now.’

      Ruth smiled. ‘Perfect. He always listens to you.’

      She scanned the rest of the charts. ‘Anything else?’

      Ruth nodded. ‘Billy’s cardiac surgeon is supposed to arrive today. No idea when, but all his tests have been completed, so hopefully the surgeon will just be able to check them all, listen to his chest and schedule the surgery.’

      Esther nodded. Please let it be today.

      ‘By the way,’ said Ruth as she handed Esther another chart. ‘He’s supposed to be a duke or something.’

      Esther had already started scanning the other chart. The other baby was Laura, thirty-six weeks, born via emergency caesarean section to a Type 1 diabetic mother. Laura’s blood sugar levels had been erratic for a few hours after delivery. That could happen with babies born to diabetic mothers, and it wasn’t unusual for a baby to have close monitoring for just a few hours. Laura’s levels had stabilised in the last hour, so Esther would just do a few more checks, then get her back to her mother’s bedside.

      She looked up and wrinkled her nose. ‘What did you just say?’

      Ruth laughed. ‘I said the new surgeon. He’s a prince or a duke or something.’

      Esther shrugged. ‘And what difference does that make? Is that why he’s late? He’s too busy with his—’ she held up her fingers ‘—other duties.’ She frowned as she picked up some nearby equipment. ‘Better not be why he’s keeping my baby waiting.’