Page 8 of Doc Hollywood

“Uh uh.” She tried not to, but a snort of laughter still escaped her. She glanced at him guiltily. “I am so sorry. That was massively rude of me.”

“That’s okay. Acting is a little different to all of this.” He nodded his head towards the surgeons who were about to make their first incision. “This is actual life and death.”

“Nah. This is just an appendix; it’s bread and butter.” She grinned at him, pleased he hadn’t taken offence, mainly because Sadie would be after her if she upset their important visitor. “You’re not a fainter, are you? If you are, it’s always better to sit down, not fall down.” She indicated a chair in the corner.

“I’ll be fine.” He didn’t sound confident.

She peered at his face, which now seemed pale under his tan. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Quite sure.”

Her head tilted to the side, listening to her monitor as the oxygen levels changed and the patient’s heart rate kicked up. She frowned and stepped past Taylor, moving closer to her screen. She waited impatiently for the blood pressure cuff to cycle.

“Is everything okay?” Taylor moved nearer to her.

“Probably, just give me a minute.” She waved vaguely; her attention was totally off him and on her job.

“Is everything okay?” he tried again.

“Shhhh.” She frowned as the blood pressure showed far lower than she expected. “Shit.” The heart rate continued to increase.

Taylor crowded closer. However, Clara ignored the large man, who many women would claw her eyes out in their attempts to stand as close to him as she was, and pushed past him to her drug trolley, where she pulled open the top drawer and grabbed a drug out, efficiently drawing it up and labelling the syringe.

“What’s that?” Taylor followed her across to the trolley.

“Adrenaline,” she explained before she pushed back past him.

“Now, that’s one I’ve heard of. I’m quite the adrenaline junky myself,” he said as he followed her.

“Right oh,” she muttered distractedly, checking the vital signs on her monitor again.

“Yes. I enjoy flying. I’m taking flying lessons,” Taylor continued.

“Lovely.” She wasn’t listening to him at all. “Ah, shit.” Clara injected some of the adrenaline into the line and dashed over to the anaesthetic bay door, shoving it open. “Lauren. I’m pretty sure we have an anaphylaxis. Can you come and give me a hand.”

“Fuck. Are you sure?” Lauren came rushing into the room.

“Yeah. Hypotensive and tachycardic. I’ve started to give adrenaline.” Clara peered over the drapes, addressing the surgeons. “Guys, I’m going to need you to stop operating for a few minutes while I sort this.”

Ron looked up from the patient’s abdomen and nodded, pulling all his laparoscopic instruments out and stepping away from the operating table.

Clara pushed some more adrenaline down the line and waited for the next blood pressure, but it was lower again. More adrenaline and another blood pressure and it had fallen more.

“Fuck.” She emptied her syringe of adrenaline into the patient’s line and dashed over to her drug trolley to draw up more before injecting it into her patient and calling over to Lauren. “Press the emergency buzzer.” When the next blood pressure was even lower, she swore again, “Fuck. Ron, cover your wounds. I think we’ll need to start CPR soon.”

Ron grabbed some dressings off the scrub trolley and stuck them over the incisions. “Do you want me to start compressions now?” His hands hovered over the patient’s chest.

“Not yet.” She pushed the last of the adrenaline. “Come on, come on.” But the next blood pressure was lower. “Fuck it. StartCPR. Lauren, you’re timekeeping. Sam,” she yelled across at the scout nurse, “grab the emergency trolley.”

It was less than thirty seconds from the emergency buzzer being pressed to a wave of people arriving in the room with one voice rising above the noise.

“Okay, everyone. We have a twenty-one-year-old having a lap appendix.” Clara paused when the defibrillator paddles were attached to the patient. “Stop CPR, what’s the rhythm?”

The chest compressions stopped, and she checked the defib screen. “We have a PEA arrest. Continue CPR. Right everyone, this is presumed anaphylaxis, most likely to the cephazolin or rocuronium, in a patient with no known allergies and no other past medical history. He’s had two milligrams of adrenaline so far, and we’re on our first round of CPR.”

Taylor backed away until he was standing in the corner, but his height of six-foot-five meant he could still see over everyone’s head to watch the events unfolding. His gaze never left Clara, who, while she was dropping swear words every twenty seconds, was in total control of the situation and coordinating the large team of people as they all battled to save the patient’s life.

“That’s two minutes,” Lauren called above the noise of the room.

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