Page 27 of Doc Defence

“Hi, Sue. This is Jake Forster. He’s got an open tib-fib fracture of his left leg.”

“It hurts like a fucking bastard,” Frost interjected hazily.

Hel hadn’t let him have any more of the green whistle, but the paramedics gave him something into the drip, which maybe helped with the pain, although not much.

He rolled his head to find a woman in green scrubs grinning back at him. “I’m sure it does, mate. My name’s Dr Sue Headly. I’m the consultant on tonight. I’m guessing you could do with some more painkillers.”

“I want all of them, please.” Frost nodded lazily. His head didn’t quite feel like it was attached to his body.

He felt Hel try to pull away from him, and he clutched onto her hand tighter.

“Frost, we need to move you onto the other bed. You’ve got to let go of my hand.” Hel leaned over him, making him meet her eyes.

“Okay.” He reluctantly let go of her hand.

“Great,” Sue said. “Let’s move him across, then I’ll take a full handover.”

“Woooo,” Frost muttered sarcastically. ‘Getting him across’ was bound to lead to more pain.

“Right. We’re going to roll him on three. One, two, three.”

Frost squeezed his eyes shut as many hands touched him before a hard board slid under him.

“Are you alright?” Frost heard Hel’s voice from close to his ear as he tried to breathe through the pain which rolling him inflicted.

“Nope,” he ground out through his teeth. He felt sweat rolling down his forehead, and debated for a moment vomiting.

“We’re moving him on three. One, two, three.” Sue, who was now Frost’s least favourite person in the hospital, declared before he was swiftly slid across onto another bed.

White hot sparks of pain pierced through him, and throwing up became a distinct possibility again.

“Are you going to puke?” Hel’s voice was close to his ear.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut. “Yup.”

“Can you get him eight milligrams of ondansetron?” Hel requested to someone, and then something rustled by his face. “I’ve got a sick bag right next to you if you need to throw up. Better out than in.”

Frost swallowed over and over, trying to keep control of the rising bile as he didn’t want to vomit on Hel.

Everything felt distant as he lay in the bed, and they spoke around him. The one thing he did know was he had hold of Hel’s hand again.

“Everyone. This is Jake Forster. He’s thirty-six. He’s got a compound fracture of his left tib and fib, which occurred while playing ice hockey. I’ve reduced it the best I could.”

“I did not enjoy that,” Frost muttered.

Hel ignored him and kept on talking, although she gave his hand a little squeeze. “Analgesia wise, he’s had penthrox and one hundred of fentanyl. He had a head strike on the ice, with no loss of consciousness and was wearing a helmet which has no damage. He’s denying any neck pain or pain elsewhere. He has no significant past medical history and no allergies.” Her voice carried easily around the silent room.

“Thanks Hel. We’ll sort out your boyfriend,” Sue spoke from somewhere off to his left.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Hel replied immediately and yanked her hand out of his grip.

Frost felt cold and was about to complain about her pulling away from him, but a bucket of ice was thrown over him when Hel said, “His girlfriend is his next of kin. Her name’s Star. I’ll try and contact her.”

He opened his eyes and saw her walking away from him.

“Oh, sorry. I assumed when you were holding hands.” Sue stepped away from his bed to talk to Hel.

“Nope. He’s just one of the players on my team,” Hel said firmly.

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