Earthquake Baby

‘Those doctors out there are the best there is, Mrs Gordon. I know they’ll do everything they can.’

When she returned to the bedspace Mr Gordon was already intubated and had a central line inserted. Fluids and drugs were being poured into him. His blood pressure was dangerously low and his heart rate very fast, with multiple erratic beats. The area was littered with discarded packaging and used equipment. It looked chaotic but was actually very controlled.

Laura pitched in, passing things hastily requested, often even before they were asked for. The heart trace on the monitor changed to a life-threatening rhythm and what blood pressure there was totally collapsed.

‘Start cardiac massage,’ Jenny commanded. Marie climbed up on the bed and began compressing Mr Gordon’s sternum. One of the doctors disconnected the ventilator and commenced hand-bagging.

Laura charged the defibrillator. She quickly assembled an ampoule of lignocaine. The machine pinged its readiness and she handed the paddles to Jenny, sending up a quick prayer. All eyes watched his chest jump as the joules of electricity tried to jolt the erratic rhythm back to normality. The trace remained the same. Lignocaine was administered as the machine was charged again.

Mr Gordon had been in full cardiac arrest for twenty long minutes when the futility of the situation called for a reluctant end to the proceedings. The atmosphere, which had been charged with pure adrenaline only moments before, was suddenly hollow and heavy. Solemn introspection replaced frenetic activity.

Laura, who had taken over the cardiac massage, stilled. Her shoulders ached from the effort of compressing such a big man’s sternum. And her heart ached for another life they couldn’t save. She stared down at the gloved hands that formed a barrier between her and the bright purple rash covering the patient’s body—the hallmark of the presence of meningococcus.

‘Laura? You’ve been dealing with the family?’ asked Jenny.

‘Yes,’ said Laura.

‘Shall we?’

They de-gloved solemnly and washed their hands at the sink. Jack approached as they were drying their hands.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Laura, not even her surprise at seeing him managing to shake the gloom from her voice.

‘I was paged. The social worker is dealing with a crisis on another ward and it was felt that Mr Gordon’s family might need some grief counselling. Has he passed away?’

‘Yes,’ said Laura

‘Oh, dear. How awful.’ Jack voice was quiet as he watched Laura intently. He saw the sadness and disbelief etched on her face and had an inkling of how she was feeling.

He had felt similar emotions at Newvalley. How quickly someone could die was always startling. And it didn’t matter how many times you’d seen it before, it was always shocking.

The fact that Mr Gordon was a complete stranger to Laura would only make it harder. It just wasn’t right that people died among strangers. Surely, in the most desperately dire time of his life, Mr Gordon should have been surrounded by people who knew and loved him?

Such was the nature of the work on an intensive care unit. But Jack knew it didn’t make it any easier and as he continued to watch Laura he could see she was having trouble reining in her emotions. Perhaps she wasn’t the best candidate to be present when the dreadful news was given to the family. Maybe she’d had enough emotion for one day?

Jenny excused herself to answer a page and Laura found herself waiting for Jenny’s return with Jack beside her.

‘Do you think it’s a good idea that you be the one to break the news to Mrs Gordon?’

‘Jenny will do that,’ she said, staring straight ahead.

‘Yes, but do you really need to be there, too?’

‘I’m the only one here who the family vaguely know. Her husband is dead. I think that she deserves to have at least one familiar face around when she’s told. Don’t you?’ Laura’s voice was terse. Her body tense.

‘You’re looking a little shaky at the moment. You’re going to need to be a lot more detached than this,’ Jack pushed.

‘Don’t tell me how to do my job,’ she snarled, turning to look at him. ‘I am a professional. I’ve been sitting in on awful conversations for years. I haven’t broken down in front of a client ever. Ever! And I’m not about to start. When I go into that room I will be perfectly in control.’

‘OK, OK. Calm down. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘When you question my professionalism it upsets me!’ she said in an angry whisper. ‘You think I want to be part of what’s going to be said in that room? Because I don’t. Every part of me rebels against the idea.’

Laura took a breath and tried to calm her racing pulse and seesawing emotions. Yes, the swiftness of Mr Gordon’s deterioration was having an effect on her, but she had to make Jack understand why he was wrong.

She softened her voice. ‘But I am a nurse, I don’t have a choice here. I am compelled to be there because it’s the right thing to do. The only thing to do. I’ve made a connection with them. I can’t just break that connection in their neediest hour because it’s emotionally challenging.’

Jack nodded. He understood what she was telling him but was worried about her nonetheless. At least he would be present during the talk. He had been paged for Mrs Gordon’s emotional journey but as Jenny rejoined them he knew that Laura’s needs took first place.

‘Mrs Gordon.’ Jenny addressed the woman, her face grim, introducing herself and Laura and Jack.

‘No.’ Mrs Gordon shook her head wildly, looking from one to the other, knowing from their faces what they were about to say.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Gordon. We did all we could but…your husband died a few minutes ago.’

‘No,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘He can’t be dead. He was fine four hours ago.’

Jenny nodded solemnly. ‘Mrs Gordon, what we think your husband had, meningococcal septicaemia, it probably got into his bloodstream. Its onset is very quick…’

The woman wasn’t listening. She came closer to Laura and grabbed her by the forearms, her eyes accusing. ‘You said they were the best. You said they’d do everything they could.’ Her voice rose hysterically and she began to shake Laura.

Laura looked into the woman’s eyes, wild with grief, and was paralysed by her disbelief and anger. Even the bite of the woman’s fingers as they dug into her skin didn’t register. She opened her mouth to say something but the words just didn’t come.

She had witnessed many emotional moments, working in this field, comforted many grieving people, but most were surprisingly quiet, reserved in their mourning. To feel the full force of such raw emotion directed right in her face was shocking.

Laura could feel the neutral mask she had slipped on start to fall away. She blinked. Anything to shut out those strangely compelling anguished eyes. Mrs Gordon’s friend was trying to drag her away and Jenny was talking calmly so Laura could be released.

‘OK, now. Come along, Mrs Gordon.’ Jack’s soothing but authoritative voice broke through the woman’s hysteria. He gently prised her fingers from Laura’s arms and held her as she sobbed.

‘Go to the staffroom, Laura,’ he commanded.

‘Wh-what?’ She looked at him, puzzled. She stared at him like she’d never seen him before, her mind refusing to function.

‘Jenny, get her out of here,’ he ordered.

Laura followed Jenny blankly, sitting in the indicated chair in the staffroom, her body on autopilot as she accepted the cup of tea Jenny placed in her cold fingers.

Laura’s brain tumbled over and over, like a clothes dryer. The staff television prattled as she stared at the images on the screen before her, but all she could see was Mrs Gordon’s utter wretchedness and hear her accusing words.

She felt…overwhelmed. Helpless. Just like those immediate months following the building collapse. Laura tried not to panic. She couldn’t go there again. It had taken too long to claw her way back to a semblance of normalcy. What was happening to her? She’d told Jack she was over it and, damn it all, she was!

She drew in a ragged breath and tried to calm her galloping thoughts. I am a professional. I am a professional. The chant helped her retreat from the edge. She felt she’d gained back some control when Jack found her half an hour later.

‘Laura,’ he said gently. ‘Are you OK?’

Laura dragged her gaze to his face. She felt her control teeter and stumble at the concern written there and echoed in his words. She shook her head and he pulled her into his arms.

‘It’s OK. I’m here.’