Delivering Love

‘She hasn’t an intravenous line in situ?’

‘It leaked into the tissues an hour ago and I paged the resident to resite it, but he’s stuck in Casualty with a chest-pain case. Dr Sheppard’s going to kill me because I didn’t ring him to come back.’

Poppy winced. He probably would, but that was the least of their problems at the moment. ‘I’ll have to cannulate if Jake doesn’t get here soon. How old is she? I need to work out the dosage for the drug.’ She hoped she wouldn’t mess up any veins but it was no use worrying—she had to do it. They’d need adrenalin if the child became much worse. Amelia started to cough, with the bronchospasm in her air passages making the air entry even more difficult.

‘She’s six.’

Poppy drew up the adrenalin and taped the ampoule to the syringe. It was situations like these that the wrong drugs could be accidentally given if they weren’t easily identified. She laid it in an injection tray and assembled the equipment to set up the IV.

Come on, Jake. She knew she was being unreasonable to expect him to appear as soon as he was called. It had probably been only a couple of minutes since the buzzer had gone off. Staff from other wards were arriving and the room seemed crowded with people. Unfortunately, most of them didn’t know what to do.

Poppy could see that the little girl was getting very little air in now and her chest was barely moving. A moment of panic welled up at the thought of her dying, but Poppy squashed it down.

‘She needs IPPV with the mask.’

‘I’ve got it here.’ One of the sisters from Intensive Care arrived and moved to commence intermittent positive pressure to force the lungs to open for the Ventolin and oxygen.

‘Someone grab the automatic blood-pressure machine and we need to know her oxygen saturation, too. Someone else get a clipboard and write down the times and any drugs given.’ Poppy’s voice was controlled and quiet but the response was immediate.

She placed a tourniquet on the child’s arm. She couldn’t even see any veins to aim for as the lack of oxygen had shut down the peripheral circulation to keep as much blood flow to the brain as possible. If she gave the injection into the muscle it could take several vital minutes for it to be picked up and dispersed by the blood to take effect and allow the bronchioles to dilate.

It would have to be intravenous! The thought of Jake’s ability to find the baby’s vein earlier that day strengthened her, and she slid the needle into the largest vein in the bend of Amelia’s arm. The immediate back-flow of blood made her heave a quick sigh of relief as she taped it into position.

‘Not the best place for one but good in an emergency.’ Jake’s voice behind her left shoulder made Poppy sigh in relief. ‘What happened to the other one?’

‘It tissued!’ Poppy turned and moved aside for Jake to get to the little girl.

Jake’s voice was quietly reassuring. ‘Amelia, it’s Dr Sheppard. You’ll be OK. Sweetheart, just try and relax.’ He held his hand out behind him and Poppy placed the tray in his hand. ‘Adrenalin?’ He checked the ampoule and fitted the syringe onto the intravenous port then slowly squeezed in the drug. ‘How much would you have given, Poppy?’

‘Age times two plus eight. About two mils over three minutes, but I haven’t checked it with anyone yet.’

Jake glanced up at her briefly and nodded. ‘Pretty good for a woman who deals with babies.’

He turned back to the little girl. ‘This should ease your breathing in a minute or so, Amelia. Hang in there.’

The girl was barely conscious and the sound of the rhythmic squeezing of air into Amelia’s lungs punctuated the rapid beeping of the monitors connected to the child. She looked worse, if anything, and Poppy was starting to feel cold with dread.

Jake’s face was stone-like, as if he was willing the child to improve, but they both knew that children responded better than adults did to the treatment—if it was received in time.

The next minute dragged. Jake said, ‘Come on, Amelia. Try and cough, sweetheart.’ The girl’s eyelids fluttered and then opened wide in fear. She gave a tiny huff of expelled air and then started to cough. Over the next few minutes her colour improved as she rid herself of some of the extra secretions blocking her lungs.

Poppy sagged against the wall. The crisis was over. Amelia was still a sick little girl and would be transferred to the intensive care unit for careful monitoring, but the immediate danger was over. Poppy met the eyes of the children’s ward sister in relief.

The other woman mouthed her thanks as Poppy hand-signalled that she was leaving. Suddenly she had to get out of there. Poppy knew it was just a delayed reaction to the stress, but the full horror of how close Amelia had come to dying crashed in on her. Jake would go and see Sheila as soon as he could safely leave her daughter’s side. It had been a big day all round and she decided she needed some space to pull her thoughts together.

Sandy was waiting for her when she came back. ‘Poppy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What happened?’

‘I’m OK. Everything will be all right now. There was a six-year-old with a severe asthma attack. Sheila’s daughter.’

Sandy drew her breath in sharply.

Poppy looked up at her friend. ‘Yeah, it was touch and go for a while there before Jake arrived. I had to cannulate.’ She looked at her hands, saw they were shaking and tucked them behind her back. ‘I’d rather have a problem in labour any day.’

Sandy reached into her pocket. ‘Time out, friend. Have a butterscotch.’ Poppy gave her a watery grin and took the sweet.

‘Thanks. I need a cup of tea, too. How’s the ward?’

By the time they were ready to go home, Poppy had stopped running the scene over in her mind to see if she should have done something differently. As she walked towards her bike she could see a figure that was becoming familiar standing outside the entrance to Casualty. She veered towards him.

‘Jake?’ What are you doing out here?’

He looked up, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Getting some air before I go over and see Amelia’s mother.’

Poppy felt the fear in her throat and forced the words out. ‘Amelia’s all right, isn’t she?’

‘She will be. Rest and Ventolin for the next couple of days should improve her.’ His gaze held hers. ‘You did a terrific job, Poppy. If I’d had to wait another few minutes, putting in the cannula, we may not have been so lucky.’ He hit one fist into his other hand. ‘People don’t realise how dangerous asthma is!’

His tone was forceful with disgust and Poppy couldn’t help thinking of the poor sister who hadn’t told him about resiting the cannula. She had a feeling the sister had copped it. But everyone was human and Poppy felt sorry for her. She sighed.

‘I’m tired. See you, Jake.’ She turned to go and she caught his movement as he pushed himself off the wall to follow her.

‘I’ll walk you to your bike.’

Poppy slanted a look up at him. ‘This is getting to be a habit.’

‘I’ve never liked a woman walking alone at night. It’s not safe. She should have a man to protect her.’

Poppy couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that slipped out. ‘Oh, spare me. I live on my own and walk myself to my bike every time I’m working late. Nothing’s ever happened to me and never will.’

A car passed and she saw the lift of one eyebrow at her comment. ‘My hero,’ she murmured facetiously under her breath, and smiled in the dark as she stopped beside her bike.

‘I heard that.’ He put his hand on her arm and pulled her to face him. ‘I could kiss you if I wanted to and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.’

She looked up at him and gave another gurgle of laughter. ‘Or I could kiss you and you wouldn’t know what hit you.’ She tilted her head and smiled at him. He was so old-fashioned. ‘Goodnight, Jake.’

* * *

Poppy parked her scooter under the carport and sat for a moment with her helmet off. She could feel her smile. Poppy knew she was playing with fire but it had been so long since she’d felt that sort of reaction to a man. It must be too long because she couldn’t remember it. Even with Tyson. She shook her head to get rid of the thought.

Men could turn their emotion on and off like a tap. Why couldn’t women? There’d been undercurrents there she couldn’t help noticing. Her heart felt like a burst water main.

She wasn’t going to become involved with a doctor. Especially not with another one who felt threatened by the true meaning of midwifery. Once had been enough. It had been the topic of the day when Dr Tyson Harvey had left his wife to run off with a consultant’s daughter.

Her first husband had been a smooth talker and too handsome. Just like this guy. When Tyson had wanted something, he’d gazed into her eyes and switched on his charm until she’d bent to his will. She’d tried to transform herself into the type of wife he’d wanted, but she’d always seemed to fail him. She hadn’t even realised she’d failed herself—until he’d left.

Poppy cringed. She wouldn’t set herself up like that again. Ever.

CHAPTER THREE