Earthquake Baby

It was different at Jack’s place. He tossed and turned most of the night. His mind had been alive with thoughts of Laura since meeting her again. Shock, amazement, excitement—he had felt them all. Even the bitterness that still lingered over her desertion. But above all he could not believe the overwhelming urge he had to protect her. It was as strong today as it had been ten years ago.

No, no, no! He shook his head, trying to banish her image from his mind. He reminded himself he didn’t do involvement any more. Once you got too involved, women wanted more. Before you knew it there was talk of wedding bells and kids…that he couldn’t do. Since his marriage break-up and subsequent divorce, Jack had been determined to keep any relationship light and friendly and short.

Anna…he groaned as he thought about his ex-wife and the total mess he’d made of their marriage. Not for the first time he found himself wishing they had never married. He thanked God there had been no children. In fact, the whole issue had been the crux of their marital problems. He could not go through that again.

With his mind so preoccupied with Laura, it was inevitable that the dream would come again. There she lay, trapped, unhurt but unable to get out. She was reaching her hand out to him, her tear-streaked face pleading for his help. He tried to reach for her hand but the more he stretched the further away she became. Her sobs, bordering on hysteria, mocked his attempts to reach her. And then the remaining structure crumpled and…

Jack sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat glistened on his brow and his bare chest. His heart palpated like a galloping stallion and echoed loudly in his ears. He clenched the sheets in his hands and flung himself back on the damp material.

Dawn was breaking through his bedroom window. He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep. Maybe he would see her today.

* * *

The next morning Laura sat with Marie and Steve, getting handover from the night shift. They sat at the nurses’ station where a central screen displayed information relayed from the bedside monitors.

Marie wasn’t taking a clinical load today but, as boss, she liked to keep up to date with the patients. Laura was in charge of the shift and Steve would float between the bed spaces, helping wherever he was needed.

Staffing was a major issue for intensive care units as a one-to-one nurse-patient ratio was essential. Critically ill patients could crash in seconds, necessitating the bedside nurse to be there all the time—just in case. This meant meal breaks through to toilet stops had to be covered by another nurse.

‘So,’ said Marie as they finished and rose to start work, ‘what’s the story with you and Jack?’

Even though Laura had been expecting it, she still wasn’t quite ready with an answer. Marie had been a good friend over the years, and it was only natural she would be curious.

‘Not much to tell really. I knew him briefly ten years ago.’ Laura shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

‘Looked a bit more than that. Looked like you knew each other well.’ Marie emphasised the last word, giving it just the right amount of innuendo.

‘If you’re asking me if we had an affair, the answer is no. Prior to yesterday I only knew him for a handful of hours. Probably doesn’t even add up to a whole day.’

OK, so she was being economical with the truth, but one night really didn’t count as an affair. Did it? Let’s be real, she thought, it was a one-night stand. Mindblowingly wonderful but nonetheless…

‘But—’

‘Marie,’ Laura interrupted, smiling to soften her words, ‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’

‘OK, OK.’ She laughed, putting up her hands in surrender. ‘None of my business.’

Laura breathed a sigh of relief to be let off the hook. Maybe now she could get on with her day. She was here to work after all!

Laura went from bed to bed, checking on patients and helping out where required. Mr Reid was her first port of call. She put on a gown and entered the isolation room. Mr Reid had had a bone-marrow transplant two weeks ago and had developed severe complications. In Theatre the previous day they had found a perforated bowel.

Today the tubes and wires running all over the bed seemed to have multiplied. She helped the bedside nurse who was scrubbing up to access the central line to administer another bag of blood.

The two drains that came from his operative site were half-full of blood. Laura looked at his lab results on the bedside computer and noted with concern the upward trend. If they continued to worsen and he went into full-blown kidney failure, dialysis would be the next step. Poor Mr Reid! He really had an uphill battle.

Laura de-gowned and moved on to one of the two postop cardiac bypass patients.

‘How are you feeling, Charlie?’ she asked. Now that his breathing tube had been removed, he could talk.

‘Awful.’ His voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘If I had known I was going to feel this bad, I’d have never gone through with it.’

‘I know you feel that way now,’ Laura said, squeezing his hand, ‘but in a week’s time, when you can actually walk around without getting chest pain or feeling out of breath, you’ll feel differently. I promise.’

Laura wished she had a dollar for every bypass patient that had told her the same thing. It was a huge operation involving the chest being cracked open and the blood being shunted out of the body through an artificial pump. Most patients described it afterwards as feeling like they’d been run over by a truck. But the improvement in their lives was astounding.

Laura saw Dr Jenny Dexter, the intensive care consultant, arrive and head for the tearoom. She checked her watch. It was time for morning rounds.

The only really routine event on the unit was eight a.m. rounds. It was a multi-disciplinary meeting with all specialities represented. Individual patients’ surgical and/or medical teams, as well as those in allied health fields, attended—occupational therapy, physiotherapy, pharmacy, social work. With a full unit, ward rounds often took an hour, sometimes longer.

As team leader, Laura attended. It was Steve’s job to relieve the bedside nurse as each patient was discussed, so they could also contribute information. The medical staff and the nurses worked as a close team on the unit. The doctors relied on the bedside nurses and valued their opinions and judgements. The good doctors, anyway.

Laura was surprised to see Jack enter the room. She knew from nursing handover that one of his patients had been admitted overnight but he didn’t need to be here himself.

She eyed him suspiciously as he smiled and plonked himself in the chair beside her.

‘Don’t you have a registrar?’ she whispered as she leaned in, immediately regretting the impulse. The smell of his aftershave lured her into the past. How could she ever forget how he had smelt the day they had made love? The mix of aftershave and pheromones had created an intoxicating aroma.

He looked at her and winked. Jenny called for quiet. Laura blinked, snapping back to the present. For heaven’s sake! It had been ten years. You’d think the man would have changed his brand of aftershave!

‘Right, as you’re here first, Jack, we might as well discuss Simon Adams. He’s your patient, I believe?’ said Jenny.

‘I’ve just taken over his treatment. He’s been clinically depressed since his wife died last year.’

‘Has he expressed a suicidal tendency before?’

‘Initially, yes, but not for some time.’

‘Well, something happened yesterday because his eleven-year-old son found him unconscious with two empty pill bottles beside him,’ said Jenny, indicating for the night registrar to begin her patient review.

Laura watched Jack as he joined in the discussion. He was quite animated when he spoke, using his hands, sitting forward in the chair. Every movement caused his sleeve to brush against her bare arm. It was like a caress and Laura fought the urge to purr.

His voice was just as she remembered it, too. Deep and rumbling. She knew his voice intimately, even more than his body. For hours, as she’d lain trapped, his voice had been her only connection with the outside world. She knew every lilt and nuance. His voice had kept her from the brink of despair.

‘How much longer does he need to be here?’ asked Jack as Laura got back on track with the round.

‘Because of the potential for cardiac toxicity and lethal arrhythmia, we’ll need to keep him for another twenty-four hours. He should be over the worst of the effects by then.’

‘Right, well, I’ll go and talk to him now and if you can discharge him to the psych unit tomorrow, we can follow him up properly. I may need to section him if he doesn’t voluntarily agree to stay. I hope it doesn’t come to that.’

There was a general murmur of agreement and they moved on to the next patient.

‘See you outside,’ Jack whispered in Laura’s ear, and then excused himself.

She took a sip of her hot tea as his aroma invaded her personal space again. She grimaced as the delicate mucous membranes of her mouth protested the temperature of the hot beverage. The discomfort gave her something else to concentrate on.

By the end of the round Laura had noted down three discharges. She emerged from the tearoom organising in her head what would be required and trying to factor in teabreaks and not think about Jack and his aftershave. Thankfully, he appeared to have left.

She noticed a young boy standing beside Simon Adams’s bed. It must be his son. Poor boy! He didn’t look much older than Isaac. How terrible to find your father like that.