Page 78 of Doc Hollywood

“You’re having a heart attack,” Clara stated bluntly. “Lacey, have you called that ambulance yet?” She glanced over at the young woman.

Lacey stood close by, shuffling from foot to foot, worry clouding her face, but no phone in her hand. “No, I—Mr Atrosky? Should I call an ambulance?”

“No, I’m fine. Stop overreacting; this isn’t a heart attack,” the director wheezed.

“Oh really?” Clara said sarcastically. “What’s happening then?”

“It’s just an angina attack.” He took his GTN inhaler out of his pocket again and took another puff of it. “It will settle soon. Please stop fussing. Everyone, back to positions, and we’ll run this scene from the start.” He wrenched his arm out of Clara’s grip so hard that she stumbled backwards.

Clara glanced up and saw Taylor take a step towards them, his jaw tight with anger, but she shook her head to stop him. There were a lot of people in the room, and it would look strange if he stepped in to defend her when he was supposed to barely know her.

“With all due respect, Mr Atrosky. Time is muscle. So you will listen to me. Your heart is currently struggling to get enough oxygen. You’re sweating. You feel a little bit faint. You’re struggling to catch your breath because you have a tight band around your chest and pain in your arm. You’re telling yourself this is just like your normal angina pain, and soon enough, it’ll stop. But it isn’t like your normal pain; it’s worse, far worse. Feel free to stop me when I’m wrong.” Clara stood her ground and faced down the director as total silence fell across the room, with every pair of eyes staring at her.

She ignored them all and scowled at the older man, who she knew was having a heart attack and needed help as soon as possible.

“I—I—I’m fine. I—“ Mr Atrosky’s voice trailed off, and he stared straight ahead.

Clara immediately took a step forward. “Mr Atrosky?”

He didn’t reply.

She took hold of his wrist, feeling for his pulse. It was there, but it was thready. Slinging her other arm around his shoulder to support him as he slumped down in his seat, she called out, “Lacey, we need that ambulance. Phone them now.” Clara’s voice was so firm that the younger woman grabbed her phone out of her pocket without asking any more questions. “When you have them, put them on speakerphone so I can talk to them.”

The shocked silence was broken by Devon’s quiet voice, “He said he was fine.”

Clara didn’t take her eyes off the man in front of her but still managed a snarky remark for the actress. “Yeah well, he can’t answer you because he’s unconscious from the heart attack he’s having.”

She nearly felt bad for being mean; then her mind flashed to images of the other woman hanging off Taylor’s arm. But she reminded herself that she didn’t have time for jealousy; she needed to concentrate on the next problem.

“I need some of you guys to get him onto the operating table,” she ordered.

Some of the crew, who had been standing around and watching, stepped in and grabbed hold of Mr Atrosky to stop him sliding off his chair. Picking him up, they carried him across the room.

Clara kept hold of his pulse; it was still present, but it felt fainter.

“Taylor, shove that dummy on the floor. We need to lie him down,” Clara ordered, giving a small smile when he didn’t hesitate, pushing the mannequin they had been using to practise with out of the way.

The men laid the director down on the operating table.

“Lacey, do you have the ambulance people yet?” she demanded.

“They’re transferring me now to the ambulance service.” Lacey rushed over to Clara.

“Great, put it onto speaker phone.” Clara moved around Taylor and started hooking the director up to the anaesthetic machine monitors. As she did, she checked his breathing; it was present but shallow.

“Hello, ambulance service. What is your address?” A voice rang out from the phone.

Clara gestured to Lacey to speak as she concentrated on her monitoring; she had no idea what the address was. “Taylor, do you remember the stuff I need to cannulate?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He stood as close as he could to her without getting in her way.

“Great. Tourniquet, cannula, alcohol wipe, bung, dressing. You got it?” Clara glanced over at him and saw him nod. “Okay, Mr black shirt, standing over in the corner by the defibrillator.”

A crew member pointed to themselves.

Clara nodded. “Yup. Unplug that whole trolley from the wall and bring it over.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Devon standing next to the boxes of gloves and asked, “Devon, can you bring me over those boxes of gloves.”

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