Sarah's Gift. Caroline AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
This is my first chance to ruin an English family’s lives, you realise.’
There was a gasp from the other end of the room, and Sarah looked up to see Jo, staring at Matt in horror.
‘Lighten up, kid, it happens all the time,’ Matt told her.
‘But to joke about it! Don’t you have any idea?’
Matt ignored her. ‘I guess I’d better wash up.’
‘Might be good,’ Sarah told him, not even bothering to look at him. She knew just how blood-splattered he must be. She turned her attention, instead, to the wreckage in front of her.
’I’m sorry, there was nothing we could do to save her. Her hair was caught in a machine—she had severe head injuries. There was no way she could have survived.’
The man, about Matt’s age, seemed to shrivel. For ages he said nothing, then he looked up, his eyes shocked and far-away. ‘Can I see her?’
Matt crossed his fingers discreetly. ‘In a while. I’ll get someone to come and sit with you and give you some tea—let it sink in a little.’
He slipped back into Resus and did a mild double-take. ‘Wow.’
Sarah stood back and looked at her handiwork. ‘Will that do?’
She’d obviously washed the woman’s face and head, dried the skin and then carefully rearranged the facial features. They looked battered, but the transparent micropore tape holding the skin together was hardly visible, and with the scalp area swathed in drapes the damage was hardly detectable.
Matt was touched. ‘That’s wonderful. At least he won’t have to torture himself for ever with what she might have looked like.’
‘Does he want to see her?’
‘Oh, yes—don’t they always?’
‘It does help,’ she said softly. ‘It makes it real—sometimes too real.’
She turned away, clearing up the mess, swabbing the floor, changing her gown. Jo and Ryan had gone, their patient stabilised and transferred to the ward, and they were alone.
Matt watched her, wondering what to say, how to raise the subject of her loss. ‘Do you ever talk about it?’
She stiffened. ‘Not often. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t bring them back. On the other hand it doesn’t make it any worse.’
‘Hard to see how it could.’
‘No. Well, I think we’re ready.’
She turned back and her eyes were calm and clear, not filled with tears, as he’d been expecting. She seemed to read his mind.
‘I’m OK, Matt. It’s all right. You don’t have to walk around me on eggshells.’
He nodded, then glanced once more at their patient. ‘I’ll bring her husband. Stay here, please, so we can restrain him if necessary. I don’t want him pulling those towels off and finding the mess underneath.’
She stayed, and while the shocked and grieving husband of their patient said his tearful farewell she stood close and tried not to hear the pain. She didn’t allow herself to think of the next few days, weeks, years of his life. Despite what she’d said, things like this brought it all a little too close to the surface.
The man went out, his wife was transferred to the hospital mortuary where the pathologist could do a little more cosmetic work following the post-mortem, and Matt and Sarah went into the staffroom and dropped bonelessly into the chairs.
‘Tea?’ Ryan offered.
‘You bet. Grieving relatives always make me thirsty.’
‘Me, too. Nice big mug, Ryan,’ Sarah said with a groan, and dropped her head back. ‘I could never work in an abbatoir—I just hate the smell of blood.’
Oh, I love it—did I mention my mother was a vampire?’ Matt murmured from the depths of his chair.
‘You lot are all so unfeeling!’
They lifted their heads and looked at Jo in astonishment.
‘Excuse me?’ Matt said mildly.
‘Don’t you have any thought for what they’re going through? The pain, the weeks of grief—’
‘Try years,’ Matt offered, his voice harsh.
‘Years, then. You’re all so callous. Your jokes—God, they’re sick. You’re sick. Fancy seeing that woman and saying she’d had a bad hair day! It’s really—Oh, I can’t find the words.’
‘Common problem down here, finding the right words,’ Ryan said in a conversational tone.
‘But it’s so distasteful!’
‘Dying’s pretty distasteful,’ Ryan told her. ‘And, anyway, how do you expect us to grieve with each and every one of our patients and their families? It simply isn’t possible.’
‘You could try.’
‘No—no, you couldn’t. It’s just a way of dealing with it. It may be sick, but it works, and it’s better than burnout.’
‘I’m not sure you’d know how to grieve, anyway,’ she said disparagingly.
Jack, standing in the doorway where he’d been throughout this exchange, gave a soft snort. ‘I think you might find we do. I’ve lost a son, Ryan’s lost his first wife, Patrick’s lost his first wife, Sarah’s lost her husband and children—I think you’ll find, on balance, we know rather a lot about grief. Maybe our way of dealing with it might shock you, but we’re still here, years later, saving lives that otherwise would be lost. Not everyone can cope with it. Maybe you’ll find you’re one of the ones that can’t.’
‘Maybe.’
She hugged her arms around herself, eyes staring wildly from one to the other, and a shudder ran through her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I had no idea…’
‘Poor kid,’ Sarah murmured, and went over to her. ‘Jo, it’s OK. It is nasty. Today hasn’t been good. That last case—it was a bit rough. Have a cup of tea.’
‘Is that everybody’s answer to everything?’ Jo said wildly. ‘Have a cup of tea? The universal panacea?’
‘That’s the boy,’ Jack murmured, squatting in front of her, mug in hand. ‘Here, drink up. You’re shocked. You’ll get used to it. We all start like this, full of ideals and thinking the old hands are callous. Some of us have been doing it for so long we can hardly remember what it was like to start, but we’ve all been there. You just take your time.’
He straightened. ‘I think you need to work in gently—nice easy cases, nothing too much at first. Why don’t you go with Sarah and she can show you a bit of front-of-house stuff in the triage room? Show you how the categories are made up, how the patients are sorted into priorities?’
She nodded, and Sarah slipped an arm round her and gave her a hug. ‘You’ll do. Drink your tea and come and find me—I’ll get out there now, I think there’s a bit of a queue after the last two.’
The afternoon passed a little better after that. Nothing else horrendous came in, and Sarah was able to teach Jo some of the fundamentals of processing the patients.
She seemed grateful. She even apologised for being critical, but Sarah brushed it aside, not wanting to get into this conversation. She could tell where it was leading, and she didn’t want to talk about Rob and the boys, at least not while she was at work.
She handed over to the next nursing team at four thirty, and then went into the staffroom for a cold drink, before setting off for home. She mixed the last of the squash and was drinking it when Matt came in and eyed it longingly.