Page 8 of Love, Accidentally

‘Want a glass of wine to celebrate your mini-break? I’ve got a rather nice Chablis open if you fancy some.’

‘Yeah, why not?’

* * *

As I brush my teeth and get ready for bed, I find myself replaying my interactions with Luke and trying to work out if there’s any meaning behind them. Is there any truth in Mike’s assessment of him? The more I think about it, the more sure I am that I saw a flash of disappointment cross Luke’s face when I suggested inviting the rest of the team to the pub. Maybe he was hoping for something more intimate after all. If that’s true, he got his wish in the end, and I did enjoy spending time with him, even if he is a bit intense. He’s definitely a step up from the guys I’ve met online recently and, although I don’t know him that well yet, the idea of building something long-term with him doesn’t feel impossible at all.

I allow that thought to linger in my mind as I pull on a T-shirt and slip under my duvet. I don’t share Mike’s frankly ludicrous prejudice against single children. Whatever he says, that’s all about his ex, Caroline, and the fact that I suspect he’s still in love with her. In fact, I’ve often wondered whether his one-man crusade to sleep with every woman at the hospital is his way of saying, ‘See, Caroline? I don’t need you. I can have anyone I want.’ As I switch off the bedside light and adjust the pillows to get comfortable, I find myself wondering what sort of lover Luke would be. I don’t think he’d be selfish; if he looks at me that intensely when we’re just having a chat, what on earth would it be like if we were naked in bed together? The thought isn’t at all unwelcome, and I feel warmth spreading around my body as I imagine his face above mine, drinking me in with his eyes as we move together.

I could be reading way more into this than there is, but it’s been a while since anyone looked at me the way Luke did earlier, and I decide to indulge myself and let the fantasy play out as I drift off to sleep. My last thought as I sink into oblivion is that maybe I’ll take the reins and invite him for a drink next time we’re on shift together.

4

In the end, it’s nearly a month before Luke’s and my schedules align again and, although I will admit that he haunted my dreams quite a lot after our first meeting and my conversation with Mike, he’s gradually faded from my consciousness over time, so I was caught a little off guard when I saw him in the flesh again. In fact, I blushed slightly when our eyes met during the handover briefing. The good news is that he’s just as good-looking as he was the last time I saw him. I’m trying very hard not to stare at his biceps as the outgoing team take us through the patients in each bay, but it’s hard not to when they keep flexing as he makes notes on his pad.

Thankfully, the fast pace of A&E means that I don’t have time to dwell on his biceps, or any other part of him that catches my eye. However, I do notice that he seems much more confident and at ease in the department than he was on his first day. The fact that Dr Patel isn’t on duty probably helps. Our head consultant today is Dr Rogers, who works on the principle that the best way to motivate the team is endless jovial positivity. However, those of us who know him well are fully aware that it’s a thin veneer; anyone who has found themselves on the receiving end of his wrath when they haven’t followed his instructions to the letter will testify that he can bawl you out with the best of them. As far as I can see, Luke seems oblivious to this fact, and I have a nasty suspicion he’s misinterpreting Dr Rogers’s outwardly calm demeanour as a ‘laissez-faire’ attitude and cutting a few corners. I’ve already seen some raised eyebrows from the nurses when he’s made decisions without consulting Dr Rogers first. I’m also certain that, if Dr Rogers hasn’t noticed it yet, he will before the end of the shift.

I’m wondering whether I should say anything to him when the red phone rings to alert us of an incoming trauma case. A young man has fallen off some scaffolding and somehow impaled himself on a railing. The fire brigade has cut him free, but he’s understandably not in a good way. He’ll need to go to theatre for an emergency operation to remove it, but not until we’ve assessed and stabilised him.

‘Get to your stations, everyone,’ Dr Rogers commands as the ambulance pulls up outside. ‘Dr Milne, although this will probably be a fascinating training exercise for you, I need someone looking after our other patients so I’m going to release you. Any issues, come and find me, OK?’

‘Yes, Dr Rogers,’ Luke replies, but the disappointment is obvious on his face. Traumas such as this are thankfully rare, so I can see why he’d want to be part of the team. However, Dr Rogers is right. We can’t leave the rest of the A&E department short of doctors just because one man has done himself a nasty mischief.

‘This is David Turner,’ the chief paramedic informs us as they wheel in the patient. He’s covered with a blanket, but the outline of the railing is clearly visible underneath it. ‘He fell from a height of just over a metre onto a cast-iron ornamental railing, which passed straight through him. He’s conscious and we’ve given him Entonox for the pain. He’s breathing unaided, but his blood pressure is low and falling. There’s not sufficient external bleeding to explain it, so there’s a likelihood of internal haemorrhage.’

‘Thanks,’ Dr Rogers tells him as we wheel the patient towards the Rapid Assessment Triage area, known as RATS for short. He turns to the ashen-faced man on the trolley. ‘David, can you hear me?’ he asks.

The man nods under his mask.

‘You’re in hospital, and I’m Dr Rogers. I’ll be looking after you until you go to theatre, along with my team. Are you in any pain right now?’

The man shakes his head, and I’m sure we’re all thinking the same thing. He’s in shock. Dr Rogers’s eyes meet mine and I can see the concern in them. This is going to be a difficult job. If we can’t stabilise him, there’s a good chance he might die before he even reaches the operating theatre.

For the next two and a half hours, we work flat out. David’s pulse becomes weak and erratic at one point, and we start to fear we are going to lose him. It is a real struggle to work out what’s going on inside him so we can let the surgeons know. If there’s one thing surgeons hate when they open someone up, it’s surprises. The initial shock has now worn off, and it’s safe to say that David is deeply unhappy. Thankfully, his vital signs are slowly improving, so Dr Rogers eventually steps back and declares him stable enough to go and start waiting for the operation to remove the railing. As the porters wheel him away, Dr Rogers mops his brow.

‘Good work, team,’ he tells us. ‘With any luck, he’ll live to fight another day.’

‘Let’s hope they get it all out,’ Ruari, the charge nurse who’s been acting as scribe, remarks. ‘Otherwise he’ll be a nightmare to go on holiday with. Can you imagine the airport scanners?’ He puts on an officious tone. ‘Can you come this way please, sir? Our scanners have detected metal on your person. Are you carrying an offensive weapon? You fell on a railing and there’s a bit still inside you? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?’

After such a long period of intense focus, the shift in tone is welcome and we all laugh.

‘Right,’ Dr Rogers announces once we’ve regained our composure. ‘Let’s go and see what else is going on, shall we?’

After the battle we’ve just been through, the collection of injuries in Majors seems a little humdrum, at least to begin with. I’m helping to patch up a guy whose drill slipped and went through his hand when I hear Dr Rogers’s voice outside the bay.

‘Dr Milne,’ he says, his tone worryingly saccharine. ‘I know we’re busy, but I need to borrow you for a moment. Urgently, please.’

Although it’s never been directed at me, I’ve heard that tone a few times before and I know exactly what is about to happen. Luke has evidently done something he shouldn’t have, and Dr Rogers is going to take him to one side and hand him his arse on a plate. I’m obviously not the only one to have noticed, if the eerie silence that has fallen over the unit is anything to go by. We’re all straining our ears to see if we can pick up any of the conversation.

It’s over surprisingly quickly; barely ten minutes pass before they’re both back in the unit. Dr Rogers is his usual affable self, although I notice Luke is looking rattled, and is carefully running every decision past him.

‘I’m parched,’ I tell Luke when my break time comes around. ‘I’m heading to the canteen for a cup of tea. Do you want me to bring you anything?’

‘I’ll come with you, if that’s OK. I’m due a break as well.’

‘Sure. I’ll be glad of the company.’ Although he’s clearly trying to put a brave face on it, I can tell the encounter with Dr Rogers has upset him as he seems distracted.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I ask after a while, putting on my best sympathetic voice.

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