Page 26 of Love, Accidentally

As I turn away, I hear her address Luke. ‘Dr Milne, I’m going to be tied up here for a little while, so if you wouldn’t mind attending to the next person on the list, I’d be grateful.’ She doesn’t wait for him to leave before issuing her next instruction to the team. ‘The patient’s breathing is a little more laboured than I’d like it to be. Let’s get him some oxygen to help him along for now, Amrita, and get a ventilator ready in case we need it. Right. Any questions, anyone?’

Dr Patel takes the silence as a no, and we set about our allocated tasks. Luke disappears off, and I soon forget our tense exchange as I focus on the tortuous process of trying to save this man’s life.

‘We’ll be using the twenty-one-hour regimen, Tilly,’ Dr Patel tells me as Amrita rigs up the oxygen mask and the antidote begins to drip into our patient. ‘Hopefully, that will be enough to do it, but let’s see. Whatever happens, he won’t be going anywhere for a while. If he stabilises, we’ll move him into Majors once a bay comes free, but you need to let admissions know he’ll be coming in. If this turns out to be a suicide attempt, as suspected, the mental health team will want to assess him too.’

‘Yes, Dr Patel. I’ll phone admissions as soon as we’re confident that he’s stabilising,’ I tell her.

She looks down at the man and sighs. ‘I know we’re not supposed to make assumptions, but what on earth do you think made him so utterly miserable that he couldn’t face living any more? I don’t often have time to worry if I’m doing the right thing, but situations like this do bring me up short. Will he thank us for saving him, do you think? Or will he simply bide his time until he’s alone and do it better next time?’

Her moment of reflection is interrupted by one of the nurses. ‘Dr Patel,’ she says breathlessly. ‘If you can spare us a moment, we urgently need a second opinion.’

Dr Patel’s professional mask slips instantly back into place. ‘What’s up?’ she asks.

‘It’s Dr Milne. We’ve got a bit of a situation.’

‘What kind of situation?’

‘There’s a patient in Majors with a suspected punctured lung, and the treatment he’s proposed is highly unusual. We’re a bit concerned.’

‘I see. I’m on my way. Tilly, are you OK to carry on here?’

‘Yes, absolutely.’

After she leaves, a sudden calm descends. The initial flurry of activity is over for this patient. Now all we can do is watch and wait. I glance up at the screen displaying his vital signs. They’re not great, but they are at least stable. Like Dr Patel, I find myself wondering what could have driven him to feel so desperate that life didn’t seem worth living any more. He’s not my first suicide attempt patient, and he won’t even be my first suicide if he doesn’t pull through, but there is something about them that hits you right in the core. Could I ever see myself in a situation like this? I’d like to hope not, but I’m sure this patient didn’t think like that either, until whatever it was changed for him that led him here.

As I’m watching him, his eyelids flutter and I move hastily to his side.

‘Mr Barwell?’ I ask. ‘Can you hear me? You’re in hospital, and I’m Tilly, one of the senior nurses.’

The fluttering was obviously unconscious as there’s no reaction. I check his vital signs again and I’m encouraged to see that they are starting to look a little better. His breathing also seems to be improving.

‘How’s he doing?’ Dr Patel asks as she sweeps in a while later.

‘Still unconscious, but his signs are much better,’ I tell her.

‘Good. His son has arrived and is clamouring to see him, so let’s move him into Majors and reunite them. I’m always surprised by the effect a familiar voice can have.’

It takes a few minutes to move the patient, but he’s barely settled in the new bay before we’re joined by his son.

‘You stupid, stupid bastard!’ he cries as Amrita lets him through the curtain and he sees his father on the bed. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

To my amazement, Mr Barwell’s eyes flutter again and, after a moment, they open, scanning the room in confusion.

‘Mr Barwell,’ I say again. ‘You’re in hospital and I’m Tilly, one of the senior nurses. Can you tell me what happened?’

Mr Barwell’s eyes lock on to me and I’m immediately struck by their extraordinary colour. I’m reminded of those dogs that have one brown and one blue eye, and the blue eye is always very light. Mr Barwell’s eyes are the same bright blue and, as I watch, tears form in them.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says in a hoarse whisper.

‘Sorry you scared the shit out of me, or sorry you’re still alive?’ the son asks angrily. ‘I can’t believe this.’

Mr Barwell’s eyes move to his son and I follow them, instantly picking up the family resemblance. Underneath his mop of dark, curly hair, the son has exactly the same striking eyes as his father.

‘I miss your mother so much, Will,’ he whispers, and this seems to puncture the son’s anger. I can almost see him crumple as he sinks into the chair next to the bed. They’re both crying now.

‘I know,’ Will replies gently, taking his father’s hand. ‘I miss her too. But this? She wouldn’t have wanted this, and what about me? You’re all I have, Dad.’

‘You’ve got your own life,’ Mr Barwell replies. ‘Without your mother, what’s the point of me? I’m just a burden.’

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