Page 45 of The Vow We Made
11
The Royal Park Hospital
AIDEN
Ihaven’t heard from Victoria.
Knowing yesterday’s interview was important, I guess she’s had more meetings today and having them go perfectly was at the forefront of her mind. It’s a big deal for her new business and I understand what it’s like to be driven by something you love.
As the day glides by, I try not to dwell as to why she hasn’t replied to my messages. I may have checked them a few times during my breaks, but there’s still no response. I wonder if she’s busy or playing hard to get. I hope it isn’t the latter. I hate playing games, it isn’t my style. All I can do, is carry on with the many patients entering our unit. One blessing of this busy, central London teaching hospital is the lack of time to dwell on anything. Every cubicle is occupied and a hive of activity filled with worried relatives, senior doctors, nurses and ambulance staff.
I’m currently preparing for the arrival of a young woman involved in a road traffic accident which I’m told is one minute away by ambulance. I don’t usually dwell on each and every patient, but now and then, things stick with you. While I change into a clean set of scrubs in preparation, my previous patient, a thirty-eight-year-old man who suffered multiple stab wounds, stays firmly in my memory. It’s not his injuries clinging to my mind, but rather how the father of two was attacked for no other reason than gaining the wallet from his back pocket. His mistake was to fight back and the image of his wife and two small children sobbing by his bedside lingers with me. Maybe his age resonated with me or the fact nobody knows what’s around the corner for any of us.
A flurry of activity from down the corridor tells me my next patient has arrived. While ambulance staff wheel her into the cubicle, the paramedic calls out our brief.
“We have a 30-year old female who’s been struck by a motorbike travelling approximately 30 miles an hour, then subsequently clipped by a passing car.” While the brief continues, I stand at the far end of the room, mentally assessing each injury.
“On arrival, she was GCS 15. From the top, deep lacerations to the face although her nose is not broken, there is no pain to her neck, back or pelvis, but she has some abdominal tenderness. There’s also a suspected fracture to the right Fibula. We’ve administered ketamine and morphine for the pain and manipulated the leg while on the ground.”
“Straight in for the primary survey please,” I call to my team who swing into position. As we continue, I register each observation and mentally note the next course of action until faint murmurs are heard. My heartbeat increases with every breath and mumble the patient makes while waking from heavy sedation. It’s at this point, I’d normally help the patient make sense of their confusion and explain, as best I can, what has happened and where they are. This time is different. As I approach the woman who lays perfectly still with her head in a collar, an inexplicable uneasy feeling consumes my whole being. It’s when I routinely ask if she can confirm her name, the first blow to my gut hits without warning and confirms my worst fear.
Her faint, croaky, “Victoria… Victoria West,” causes my stomach to roll.
Seconds tick by and I’m aware of the staff around me before I ask, “Do you know where you are?”
Her delicate, scared voice replies, “I’m in a hospital.” Then her body jolts and she cries out in pain.
“Fuck,” I hiss drawing attention to my emotions, but I continue to focus on Victoria as her sleepy honey eyes consume me. This isn’t happening. Why is Victoria lying here, covered in blood and moaning in agony?
“Doctor?” Katie, the senior nurse in charge, questions while my breathing accelerates. I have to pull myself together. I’ve never been in a situation where I’m personally invested in a patient and my team can have no idea there’s a problem.
“Nurse, we need a top-up of painkillers.”
“What’s happened to me?” Victoria moans on a wave of pain. “Why am I here?” Her voice is slurred from the analgesics, which are now wearing off at a rate of knots. In a split second, I make the decision to take care of the situation and her injuries. I can’t stand seeing her in agony and until I can signal my predicament to a reliable colleague, I’ll do everything in my power to ease it.
“Victoria, my name is Doctor Aiden James and you’re in the Accident and Emergency unit at The Royal Park Hospital.”
“Aiden,” she breathes out and I say anything to help cover my mistake.
“That’s right and I’m your doctor. Please let us know straight away if the pain increases.” Victoria squints as if to clear the mist and focus towards me but time is of the essence and I don’t give her a second to fully register. I have to get an X-ray of the leg to establish if it’s broken. It’s also not clear if she has internal injuries, so I call for a full body CT scan.
I sense Victoria’s eyes following me, and in a bid to give her reassurance, I squeeze her hand while explaining the scan she needs. Her pupils contract as she replies simply with yes or no to my questions. The light pressure from her fingertips to the inside of my palm, could be a signal to tell me she understands we can’t give the game away.
“Okay Aiden,” her crackled tone replies. I can only guess she’s probably still feeling groggy. “My leg,” she complains, “the pain is excruciating. Please give me something to ease the pain.” Her request is to be expected after her first round of medication begins to wear off, but the tears slipping from the corners of her eyes and the desperation in her voice, nearly break me. It’s probably the shock of what’s happened or fear of what’s to come. I’m uncomfortable with this feeling of restriction when all I want to do is reassure her, not as her doctor, but as the man who will take care and protect her. I stay within my professional limits because I have to, but it’s eating me up inside.
“Please don’t worry. We’ll top up your medication and make you as comfortable as possible. You’re in good hands.”
Again, she gives me another, “Okay.” I can tell she’s scared and probably confused between her sedated dreams and reality. The best thing I can do right now is to get her treatment underway as quickly as possible, even if I’m unable to see it through.
After a full check to the rest of her body, Victoria is taken for a CT scan to ensure there are no other injuries to her neck, spinal cord or pelvis and to assess the full extent of the damage to her leg. I wish I could be there, holding her hand, giving reassurance and never once leave her side but my professional instincts tell me to back off. There’s a case of ethics involved, so it’s with apprehension I make the decision to transfer her care to another doctor even though I hate the thought of her alone with people she doesn’t know. I’d do anything to be with her now, and that’s the problem. I’ve only known her a short time but already she means so much.
The trauma team are on standby and briefed by the head consultant, Aaron Trevelyan. We’re of similar age and experience and he’s an incredible doctor who I trust implicitly. He’s also a good bloke, so with no hesitation, I call him over and explain my situation honestly.
“I need to hand over a patient. She’s currently on her way for a CT scan, but when she comes back, I need you to handle it.”
“Problem?”
“It’s my… someone I’ve been seeing.”
