Found: A Father For Her Child

‘Hey, lady, I could use a hand here,’ he shouted into the stillness of the night while he waited for the operator.

Carrie jumped, snapped out of her daze by the urgency of his voice. Of course. She was a doctor, for goodness’ sake. But the thought of getting out of the car, of assisting the stranger, paralysed her with fear. The familiar dread descended on her and her heart was hammering madly again. He didn’t know what he was asking. And anyway…she couldn’t leave Dana.

Carrie watched him working as he spoke into the phone as if she was watching it on a television screen. Like it wasn’t really happening. He obviously had a medical background. He was calm and capable, with a huge boxful of medical supplies at his side.

She had a strange feeling of disconnectedness. Maybe it was the residual effects of shock. Maybe his appeal for help had tipped her over. Her hands shook as she thought about getting out of the car and lending a hand. She couldn’t do it. The mere thought was enough to make her hyperventilate. It terrified her more than the near collision had.

Charlie cursed as he hung up. They were coming, sending two road units and a chopper and alerting the nearby local rural fire brigade, but would it be soon enough? The man’s obstructive breathing sounded loud in the night filled otherwise only by insect song. Hell! The driver needed his airway managed as well as his haemorrhage, and he couldn’t do both.

‘Lady! Get your butt here now,’ he shouted, turning his head so he could pierce her with a look that was a cross between commanding and desperate. ‘I’m trying to save this guy’s life!’

Carrie felt the man’s demand slice through her panic and touch the doctor she had shut away for too many years. Despite her shaking, despite the dryness of her mouth and the pounding of her heart, something inside responded to the stranger’s urgent appeal. She checked on Dana. Still asleep. Almost against her will her hand reached for the door.

Charlie looked up as the woman approached. Oh, hell. She was pale and visibly shaking, looking at the unconscious bleeding patient as if she’d never seen blood before. She looked horrified, as if she was going to either faint or vomit. Or both. Great. She was going to be as useless as a screen door on a submarine.

She’s all you’ve got, Charlie boy.

‘Gloves top drawer of the kit,’ he barked. If she didn’t snap out of this stupor they were both in trouble. Yes, she’d been through a lot tonight. No doubt she’d thought she’d been a goner at one stage but there was a life hanging in the balance and time was of the essence. He didn’t have time to baby her. He only hoped she would respond automatically to his demands.

Carrie crouched and pulled out a pair of gloves. Her movements were stiff, robotic, as if someone else was controlling her. Pushing her buttons.

‘Down here. I need you to put your hand here,’ he said. She didn’t move and he almost lost it.

‘I…c-can’t.’ Carrie’s teeth chattered violently.

Charlie bit his tongue and took a deep calming breath. ‘Look, lady, I know you’ve had a shock tonight but this is really, really important.’

Carrie felt herself responding to the softness in his voice. To his calm appeal. ‘I c-can’t.’

‘Yes, you can,’ he said encouragingly. ‘I need firm, even pressure.’

His kept his voice quiet and composed despite the well of frustration rising inside him. Of all the people in the entire world he was stuck with a neurotic female who would probably faint before much longer.

He looked at her for confirmation and breathed a sigh of relief as she reached out a shaking hand to cover his. He removed his slowly. ‘Firm. Even. Do you understand?’

She didn’t answer him, just stared with a look of horror at the blood covering her glove. She was looking at it as if she’d never seen the substance before.

‘Y-yes,’ she stuttered.

Charlie looked down at her technique, pleasantly surprised to find that she had quickly mastered it. As long as she kept the pressure applied she could prevent this man from bleeding to death, and it freed him up to manage the airway.

Carrie didn’t feel the bite of the bitumen into her knees through the thin fabric of her hand-made cotton tie-dyed trousers. She didn’t hear the hum of insects or the stutter of her own panicked breath. She didn’t even hear the stranger rooting around in his medical kit. The injured man’s blood totally consumed her.

She could feel its warmth though the thin barrier of latex. She could smell its pungent metallic aroma heavy on the warm night air. Knew that it would be sticky as it clotted around her hands. Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die. The chant helped her keep her mind off the roar of her own blood in her ears, the sweat beading her forehead, the nausea rolling through her intestines. She was breathing fast. Too fast.

Charlie cursed under his breath as he applied an oxygen mask to the man’s face. She was going to hyperventilate at any moment.

‘Hey,’ he said, forcing himself to minister to her needs for a few seconds while the patient’s life hung in the balance. ‘You’re doing great, OK? Just slow your breathing down. Can you do that?’

Carrie shook her head, feeling everything around her spinning out of control. Her lips were tingling. Her gloved fingers, covered in blood, were tingling. ‘I can’t…b-breathe,’ she gasped.

Charlie bit back an expletive. ‘Yes, you can. Look at me.’

Carrie couldn’t move. She could only see the blood. Her mind started to play tricks. She was getting flashes of another place and time. Another patient. Another life-and-death situation. So much blood. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to expel them.

‘Look at me!’

His command ricocheted across the space between them and Carrie’s head snapped up.

He saw the sheer panic in her eyes. ‘You’re doing really well,’ he said gently, lifting his hand and squeezing her shoulder. ‘The ambulance should be here soon.’

Carrie felt the warmth of his hand anchoring her in the suddenly spinning world and her panicked thoughts eased momentarily.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘C-Carrie,’ she said.

‘Hi, Carrie. I’m Charlie,’ he replied, and smiled. ‘I need you to slow your breathing down, OK? Do you think you can do that?’

Carrie nodded mutely.

‘Come on, Carrie, like this,’ he said, breathing deeply in and out himself. ‘Breathe with me, like this.’

Carrie forced herself to slow her breathing. It was hard at first, she didn’t feel like she was getting enough air into her oxygen-starved lungs. But following Charlie’s calm voice, mimicking his deep steady breathing—in and out, in and out—had an affect. His hand on her shoulder was immeasurably comforting. The tingling slowly subsided.

‘OK, now. Good. This is good. Much better. Well done.’

He smiled encouragingly at her. Carrie was aware somewhere inside her jumbled thoughts that he was talking to her like she was a frightened child, the way she spoke to Dana during a thunderstorm. And she was also aware that behind his calm façade his eyes kept flicking down to check the inert man on the ground. Their patient was in bad shape and she had to pull herself together.

‘I need to keep going here. Will you be OK? Just keep breathing, OK? In and out. All right?’

‘I’m sorry. I’m g-good now. I’ll breathe.’

Charlie searched her face. She still looked scared but the panic was gone. ‘OK.’ He nodded and turned his attention back to his patient.

What first? He needed a collar to stabilise the patient’s neck before he manipulated it to improve the airway. He didn’t have one. He made a mental note to put a collar in the kit for future use and moved to plan B. He knelt so that the patient’s head was between his legs, his knees and thighs providing support for the head and neck.

He experimented with some gentle jaw support and chin extension and was relieved to hear the breathing become much less noisy. He reached for his portable suction unit, pushed the mask aside and placed the sucker inside the man’s mouth. Blood slurped into the tubing.

Carrie startled at the loud mechanical noise. She saw the red fluid track down the tubing and looked away quickly. Nausea roiled through her intestines again and for an awful moment she thought she was going to vomit. Her heartbeat surged and she coughed on a rising surge of bile.

Charlie looked up quickly. ‘You OK?’ The look on her face was worrying. He could hear her fear in her tortured breathing as she struggled to get herself back under control. ‘In and out, Carrie. This is nearly over.’

Carrie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Charlie felt his conscience prick at what this experience was doing to her. First she’d nearly lost her life and second he was forcing her to do something she was clearly unsuited to. She was obviously one of those squeamish people who didn’t like the sight of blood, who flicked the channel over when a medical show came on television. It had to be hard for her. This sort of scene could be difficult for even hardened professionals.

She nodded, still not trusting herself to speak. ‘Do…do you think he’s going to d-die?’