200 Harley Street. Lynne MarshallЧитать онлайн книгу.
and his team were positioning themselves around the table, a wide variety of surgical instruments around them. Even though Iain’s mask was in place and all she could see were his brown eyes, his thick Scottish accent carried clearly across the theatre. ‘All head and neck cancers are different. The extent of the surgery depends on the size of the cancer and where it is. If it’s a small cancer of the mouth, there is often no scarring. But if the cancer has spread from the head or neck, the most likely place for it to go to is the lymph nodes in the neck—that’s what has happened in Carol’s case.’
It sounded so ominous when he said it like that. She couldn’t bring herself to ask the obvious question. If this cancer was curable.
Iain was pointing inside Carol’s mouth. ‘I’m going to do to two types of surgery on Carol today. Transoral laser surgery is used to treat smaller cancers on the lip, mouth or throat. The laser removes the tumour using a high-power beam of light. The light is attached to a microscope so that I can see the tissue in detail when I’m operating. Carol’s tumour is near the back of her throat near her larynx. We need to be very careful and precise. Anything we do could affect her speech. Once we’ve dealt with that tumour we need to deal with the spread.
‘Neck dissection is necessary to remove all the affected lymph nodes in both sides of the neck. Tests have shown the cancer has spread to both sides. The nerve that helps move the lower lip can sometimes be affected. This can cause weakness on one side of the mouth and could potentially make her smile crooked. It would usually return to normal after a few months but I want to avoid that for Carol if I can.’
Lexi nodded. He was thinking about his patient and the impact this surgery could have on her livelihood. If Carol had problems with her speech, it would affect her ability to do her job. Things would be hard enough with her scarring. She didn’t need any further complications.
She watched as the team draped Carol’s skin and cleaned it prior to any incision. Iain attached the light and microscope to his visor and positioned himself at the entrance to her mouth. He gave his registrar, who was assisting, a nod and then looked around the theatre. ‘People, I don’t need to tell you how important my concentration is right now. No noise. No interruptions.’
For the next twenty minutes Lexi was scared to breathe. The theatre was eerily quiet. Occasionally Iain spoke quietly to his registrar and they adjusted their positions. She could see the intense focus of the laser. It was almost unthinkable that the slightest movement could mean the laser hitting healthy tissue instead of the tumour.
How could the theatre staff remain so calm? How could Iain keep his nerves in check? She felt sick just thinking about it, and from the look of her cameraman, he felt exactly the same.
Eventually Iain lifted his head, gave a nod and removed his head and eye set. He leaned back as far as he could, his back giving a painful crick.
Even beneath his mask she could see the corners of his eyes lift as he smiled. ‘That’s it, folks. You can talk again. We’ll move on to the next part of the surgery.’ The sigh of relief around the room was audible. Tense shoulders sagged and bad jokes started to circulate around the room again.
But Iain was in no way finished. He was joined at one point by Carol’s cancer specialist and the two of them reviewed the earlier CT scan to ensure Iain would capture all the lymph nodes affected. The surgery was painstaking. Iain was more exacting, more precise than she could have ever have imagined. The surgery that had been expected to take four hours actually took six, all because Iain was determined not only to remove every possible trace of cancer but also to give Carol the best cosmetic outcome possible.
When he finally finished he inserted a small plastic drain on either side of her neck. After the care and attention to detail Lexi was surprised. It seemed almost unsightly. Iain caught her expression and gave a little shake of his head. ‘We’ll need to keep these in place for the next twenty-four hours to help drain any excess fluid. It will give Carol a better result overall, even though it doesn’t look too pretty right now.’
He gave a final nod at the anaesthetist. ‘All yours, Tony. Let’s get some analgesia in and bring Carol round. I’ll be around for the next two hours if you have any concerns.’ He peeled off his gloves and mask. ‘Thank you, everyone, for your hard work and attention to detail today. Let’s do it all again on Thursday.’
It was almost as if his words gave her permission to sag against the wall. She’d found the day long, tiring, even though she’d been standing virtually in one spot. And this was just one day out of her life. Iain did this most days—sometimes every day—as well as seeing patients at the Hunter Clinic. No wonder he fell asleep in the office.
She watched as Iain moved back over to the theatre sinks to wash up. She could see the way the thin navy scrubs clung to every muscle, every sinew of his lithe body. He was chatting away to one of the scrub nurses as she cleaned the theatre around him. Not flirting. Just easy banter, the way they must act every day.
He was more relaxed in here than he was at the Hunter Clinic. And it didn’t take her long to realise why. This was home for Iain. This was his comfort zone.
Iain wasn’t renowned for his charm or easygoing manner. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was known for being gruff, sometimes downright blunt with colleagues and occasionally with patients. But his surgery spoke for itself. As did his patient recovery stories. No one could argue with those.
But if she wanted to increase publicity for the Hunter Clinic she was going to have to dig beneath the surface a little. Reveal a little of what she’d seen in Theatre today. The question was—how to do that? Iain was fiercely private and she was going to have to persuade him to lower his barriers just a touch to let their patients see the human side of the brilliant surgeon.
With the filming today she’d had a clear demonstration of his surgical skills and his commitment to the task. They’d even managed to capture some of his lighter moments with the theatre staff. All of this would be pure television gold, if only she could capture a little of the man as well.
She arched her back, just as he had done earlier. It didn’t make the same alarming cricking noise but it certainly stretched her aching muscles. She dragged her eyes away from Iain. From the shaggy hair that had been released from the theatre cap. The hair that she was imagining running her fingers through.
This would never do. She was a professional.
She was always a professional. She’d met numerous celebrities throughout her life and very few of them had impressed her. Very few of them had made her imagination run wild. Not like the way it was at the moment. It must just be fatigue. She was tired—that was all. She’d had a late night last night, after dropping Iain home, and then an early start again this morning. It couldn’t be anything else, could it?
She pushed open the door to the changing room and stripped off her pink scrubs and jumped into the shower. It only took a few minutes for the cool water to wake her up a little and she pulled on her red business suit and untied her hair, turning her head upside and down and giving it a good shake. After being confined up all day in a theatre cap, it felt good to finally have it loose again. Last she took her perfume from her bag and squirted liberally, finishing with her red lipstick.
There. Barely human again after how long? She checked her watch. Nearly twelve hours. Her stomach gave a loud rumble.
She was starving. And getting food—preferably of the unhealthy kind—was first on her list.
Iain was waiting at the changing-room doors, hoping he hadn’t missed her. Lexi Robbins had been on his radar all day. It was the first time anyone had been in his operating theatre who had actually threatened his focus.
Iain McKenzie was a surgeon who slid into ‘the zone’ whenever he operated. The patient was his absolute focus—and nothing else penetrated.
But today had been a little different. Even though his focus had still been on his patients, for the first time he’d been conscious of his peripheral vision. The set of pale pink scrubs and wide blue eyes that had occasionally caught his attention.
It