One Night in Emergency

She’d been a fool to think a new start would change things. It was her old job all over again!

Worse even.

Slowing down, she caught her breath for a second, and reluctantly acknowledged why.

He’d seemed so nice.

Oh, not the Rory Hunter who’d paraded in this morning, but the tousled-haired rugby player she’d met that Saturday night. The man who’d made her laugh, the man who’d gently teased her. A man who, despite her embarrassment, despite her scorching shame around their first encounter, she’d been secretly looking forward to seeing again.

Secretly pleased she’d be working alongside.

Well, not now, Eleanor thought darkly, picking up her pace and heading for the cubicle. Rory Hunter was as bad as the rest and Mary was just the same.

She’d been a fool to think things would be different here.

The morning passed in a horrible blur. For once, Mary’s razor-sharp tongue seemed to have softened and for the most part she left Eleanor alone with her blushes as she gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the sniggers from the rest of the staff every time Rory came within a square mile of her.

‘Mary said you were to go to lunch now.’ Vicki smiled as she came over. ‘I’ll watch your patients while you’re gone. What’s happening?’

‘Not much,’ Eleanor sighed. ‘Most are waiting for beds.’ She took Vicki around the cubicles, giving her a brief handover of all the patients in her care, but as they got to cubicle eight Eleanor stepped inside, frowning as she felt Em’s pulse. ‘Her pulse is very irregular.’

‘Her respiration rate’s down, too,’ Vicki observed, glancing at the casualty card. ‘She looks very comfortable, though,’ she added as they stepped outside. ‘I don’t think Mrs Nugent will be going to a ward.’

‘It’s Miss Nugent,’ Eleanor corrected, ‘but she likes to be called Em.’

Vicki nodded, writing the preference in red on the card and circling it—something Eleanor hadn’t thought to do. ‘Go on, you’d better go.’

Eleanor nodded but her heart wasn’t in it, her eyes dragging back to cubicle eight. ‘I might just sit with Em for a while,’ she said as Vicki’s eyes widened. ‘I can have my lunch in there.’

‘Are you mad?’ Vicki shook her head. ‘Mary would have a fit. No, go and have a proper break. I’ll keep an eye on her.’

And she would, Eleanor knew that. In a little while Vicki would pop her head in, pat the old lady’s hands and check that she was comfortable, but that would be it. And no one was being cruel, no one was neglecting the patient or being indifferent. There simply wasn’t time for one-on-one nursing when it wasn’t intensive, weren’t enough nursing hours allocated in Emergency to hold an old lady’s hand for an hour or two.

But that was what nursing was about for Eleanor.

That was the nurse she wanted to be, the nurse she’d sworn she would be, and she wasn’t going to changer her priorities now.

Of course, Mary had to be talking to Rory, but Eleanor was tired of hiding from him anyway, tired of blushing at each and every turn.

‘Can I have a word, Mary?’

She glanced down at her watch. ‘I thought you were at lunch?’

‘I am.’ Eleanor gave a small shrug. ‘I was wondering if I could take it in cubicle eight.’

‘Cubicle eight?’ Mary stared at her, nonplussed. ‘But Miss Nugent’s in there.’

‘I know, I just…’ Eleanor faltered, aware Rory was staring at her, too. ‘She’s near the end now and she’s on her own…’

‘Vicki will watch her,’ Mary said dismissively. ‘Now, for the last time, will you go to lunch?’ Turning her attention back to Rory, Mary resumed her conversation but Eleanor most definitely hadn’t finished.

‘I am going to lunch, Sister Byrne.’ Eleanor cleared her throat. ‘And if you need to find me for anything, I’ll be in cubicle eight.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘HEY, Em.’

Pulling a chair over beside the gurney, Eleanor peeled the wrap off her Vegemite sandwiches before settling back in her seat and taking the old lady’s hand with one hand while holding her lunch with the other.

As Vicki had said, Em seemed comfortable, her breathing shallow, her weatherbeaten, heavily lined face relaxed now, her hand slack as Eleanor held it. But whether or not Miss Nugent knew that someone was there, Eleanor wanted to stay.

Didn’t want ninety-four years of life to go out unacknowledged.

And probably the last thing this tired old lady needed was the neurotic chatter of a tense twenty-three-year-old, didn’t need to hear about the dramas going on in the nurse’s life as she slipped out of this world. So Eleanor kept quiet, apart from the occasional word of support, a gentle reminder that someone was near, that someone thought that Miss Emily Nugent was a very important lady indeed.

Who knows? Eleanor thought as Em’s breathing gradually slowed down. Seventy-one years from now, she herself would look back on her life and today wouldn’t even merit a thought, today would be so insignificant in her life span it wouldn’t even rate a mention.

It would.

How could she ever forget the loneliness that gripped her now as she held onto Em’s hand? The horror of living in a very tiny bedsit in a very big city and surviving on Vegemite sandwiches till her very new bank account finally had some funds paid in. Or the awful quiet nausea of leaving her family behind, parents, brothers, sisters, friends who in turn had told her she was crazy to leave, all insisting she was overreacting. That things would get better soon.

Maybe they would have, Eleanor mused as she sat there quietly. Maybe in time she’d have learned to stand up to Rita, but her problems with her old manager hadn’t been the only reason Eleanor had left.

How could she tell her family and friends that somehow the country wasn’t quite enough for her any more? That she yearned for the nursing experience only a city hospital could give?

Needed to find out if she could actually do it.

Could be the emergency nurse she truly wanted to be.

And what had she done?

Her first shift in, she’d made a complete and utter fool of herself, acted just like the bimbo Rita had hinted she was, but worse, far worse than that, Mary’s throw-away comment that Rory hadn’t been able to rebuff.