Doctor at Risk

He laughed aloud when Wendy rolled her eyes at him to communicate her exasperation with Kyle’s impatience to get back to some action.

‘We’re supposed to be searching Level 2. What’s taking so bloody long?’

Wendy looked tired and Ross knew just how drained she would be feeling as they watched the stretcher carrying their patient pass into the hands of the paramedics waiting at the triage tent. An ambulance was also ready, its beacons flashing. USAR Squad 4 turned back to the mall to continue their shift. Kyle led the way alongside Tony. Ross walked at the back, his arm resting lightly on Wendy’s shoulders.

‘You did a fantastic job in there,’ he told her. ‘I’m really proud of you.’

The smile he received in response temporarily wiped out any hint of exhaustion or discomfort. The rub of grimy overalls, the gritty, sore eyes, the various bruises and scrapes were forgotten. The fact that they were crunching through broken glass and walking into a dark and threatening environment with only the beams from their headlamps to illuminate the hazards did nothing to dim the joy Ross felt. He wanted to say more to Wendy. To tell her just how much he loved her. He wanted to stop and pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Of course, he would do nothing that inappropriate. He would just return the smile and hope that something of what he was feeling would be communicated by the pressure of his arm around her shoulders and the sincere tone of the words he had spoken.

‘Thanks.’ Reading the expression in eyes partially obscured by dusty goggles was unreliable but Wendy’s smile broadened into the impish grin he loved. She spoke loudly enough to make it plain she didn’t share the inhibition Ross found their situation imposed. ‘Love you.’

And suddenly Ross didn’t care where he was or who might overhear either. Or even that it could be considered unprofessional.

‘Love you, too.’

He was still walking on air. And it felt like flying. This kind of joy was so new to Ross. It had been in his life for only a matter of weeks. Since he had met Wendy Watson, in fact, and discovered the unimagined pleasure of being with someone who could only be considered a soul mate.

He could hear Kyle’s voice rising with excitement ahead of the rest of the squad. ‘I heard something. There’s someone here—calling for help!’

Ross moved into position as the team made a line to begin a systematic search of the Level 2 area. A hairdressing salon had partially collapsed into a shop on the ground floor. More internal walls had fallen upstairs and there were piles of debris and voids to search. The signal of three short blasts on a whistle called for silence, and gradually the sounds coming from beneath and around them faded.

Ross started the calls. ‘Rescue team here. Can you hear me?’

He waited. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. ‘Nothing heard.’

‘Rescue team here. Can you hear me?’ Wendy’s small frame could produce a remarkably loud voice and Ross found himself smiling.

It was so much a part of her. That energy...and strength. Making love to her had been a revelation all of its own. Touching that lithe, fine body that defied any attempt to be treated as fragile, because Wendy’s enthusiasm and generosity affected her love-making as much as every other aspect of her personality. Ross had the sudden wish that this incident was over with. That he and Wendy could be somewhere by themselves and negate the horror of the last twenty-four hours by a very private celebration of life...and their love.

He could hear Kyle again but the young firefighter wasn’t using the well-rehearsed calling system. He wasn’t using any words at all. The call rose in pitch and volume. A dreadful scream. And then a cry for help.

‘Help! Someone, help me!’

A figure writhed in the shadows. Ross could see him more clearly as he moved closer. The beam from his headlamp jerked and then steadied and he could see what the problem was. A thin rod of reinforcing steel protruded from a broken concrete slab. The end of the rod was bent into a right angle that Kyle hadn’t seen in the darkness. He couldn’t see the tip of the rod because it had penetrated the thick fabric of Kyle’s overalls and was now lodged in the soft flesh of his calf muscle.

‘Don’t touch my leg, man! It hurts!’

Kyle was still writhing. Was he trying to pull himself clear or push Ross out of reach? Ross could feel the shove. It felt like a blow and it made reality intrude, much as a slap in the face might have affected someone as hysterical as Kyle now appeared to be. The blow was a wake-up call, and in a dreadful moment of truth Ross knew that he was dreaming.

Again.

And he couldn’t escape.

The flying sensation continued, as part of his brain acknowledged that it had to. Any joy, however, had been replaced by a dark and terrible fear. He wasn’t flying.

He was falling.

Spiralling through space, towards the pain and destruction waiting in the unforgiving rubble below. Life as he had always known it was about to end. Ross could feel his heart pounding, his stomach knotting painfully with fear. He tried to cry out but he couldn’t compete with the echoes of Kyle’s screams, and anyway there was no time to force any sound from his uncooperative vocal cords. No time to—

The soft touch distracted him from the effort of attempting the impossible. Wendy was there. He could feel her touch. In another moment he would hear her voice as it reassured and encouraged him. He would be able to look at those elfin features with the mop of blonde spikes and see the love and concern blazing from dark blue eyes. And she would still be there as he learned the worst about his injuries. As he pulled himself from the oblivion of anaesthesia and as he struggled through the dark hours of fighting to breathe...and live.

The gentle shaking continued for just another second but it was long enough to pull Ross back from the brink. To escape. He forced his eyelids to lift and concentrated on trying to slow his breathing as he looked into a face that was nothing like Wendy’s.

‘Another nightmare?’ The nurse on night duty, Megan Leggett, was sympathetic. ‘Are you OK?’

Ross closed his eyes again. The dream was already fading and although the relief was overwhelming, Ross knew there were parts of that dream he didn’t want to relinquish. A tiny sliver of the satisfaction in rescuing that woman surfaced. And a brief snatch of the joy of making love to Wendy. Another split second and they were both gone. Part of the past. Sensations that he would never experience again in anything other than a dream.

‘I’m OK,’ he told Megan curtly. ‘Sorry if I’ve woken anyone.’

Thanks to the incoherent but distressed sounds he had been heard to make, the disturbance to his sleep in recent nights was no longer private. The nightmares hadn’t started until after his transfer from ICU to the ward but they were increasing in frequency. They served to underscore the importance Ross knew he should be giving to sorting out the emotional as well as the physical aftermath of his accident.

‘Sam would sleep through Armageddon.’ Megan smiled. ‘One advantage to having hearing aids that can be switched off, I suppose. And Aaron went home today, remember? I was the only person who heard anything.’ Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Can I get you anything? A drink maybe?’

‘No. I’m fine, thanks.’

‘Want some company for a bit? Or would you rather just go back to sleep?’

‘I won’t sleep for a while.’ Ross had no intention of inviting a return of that dream. He would be doing his best to stay awake for the next few hours and he had learned how lonely that could be. ‘Some company would be great if you’re not busy.’

Megan pulled up the chair and sat down. ‘I know I shouldn’t tempt fate by mentioning the ‘‘Q’’ word but it is dead quiet at the moment. I’ve caught up on all the paperwork and read the newspaper. If I hadn’t heard you I might have been desperate enough to have a go at the cryptic crossword.’

Ross smiled. ‘Crosswords don’t do much for me either.’

‘What does?’

‘Cycling,’ Ross said wryly. ‘And tramping and rock-climbing.’ His snort of laughter lacked any trace of amusement. ‘Maybe I ought to revisit crosswords after all.’

‘Bit early for that,’ Megan said firmly. ‘According to your notes you’re doing really well. You had four spinal fractures, didn’t you?’

‘Yep—C7, T8, T10 and L5.’

‘But the only unstable ones were T8 and T10?’

‘Yeah. I’ve got a bit of hardware taking care of them now. I’ll set off the metal detectors in the airport from now on.’

‘A Harrington rod.’ Megan nodded. ‘So they’ll be looking at fitting you with a brace and mobilising you into a wheelchair pretty soon, then.’

‘I guess.’ Ross was not prepared to look forward to the prospect of a wheelchair.

‘But that’s great,’ Megan encouraged. ‘You’ll be amazed how much better you’ll feel, getting mobile.’

Maybe having company hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Ross wasn’t in the mood to be encouraged. He knew he was lucky compared to many people these nurses cared for. He knew he should be thankful for what he still had in the way of movement. And he knew that the jury was still out as far as a final outcome—but he had to come to terms with the worst prognosis. That way he could accept any improvement as a bonus, and the agony of grieving for what was lost would not be too prolonged.

Megan clearly sensed that the topic was not welcome. ‘You’re from the Coast, aren’t you? I had an uncle I used to visit over there—in Hokitika.’

‘I grew up in Hoki.’ Ross was happy to accept the change of subject. ‘But I live just outside Charleston now. I built my own house out in the bush.’

‘Really?’