The Children's Doctor's Special Proposal

Mrs Smith looked anxious. ‘But he’s going to be all right?’

‘He’s going to be absolutely fine,’ Katrina reassured her, ruffling Petros’s hair.

‘You said earlier it’s common in people from the Mediterranean—so I might have it too?’ Mrs Smith asked Rhys.

‘No, it’s more likely that you’re a carrier—the condition is linked with the X chromosome, so women tend to be carriers but because men only have one X chromosome they end up developing the disease,’ he explained.

Mrs Smith bit her lip. ‘So it’s my fault my son’s ill.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Rhys said emphatically. ‘It’s a medical condition and you had no reason to suspect there was a problem. Whatever you do, don’t blame yourself.’

‘And, anyway, you were the one who took him to the doctor—you did exactly the right thing,’ Katrina added. ‘Now, Petros, I need to take a little tiny sample of your blood so I can test it—but I have magic cream that means it won’t hurt at all. Is that OK?’

The little boy looked up at his mother and then, at her encouraging smile, nodded.

‘Wonderful. Now, you have to say a magic word as I put the cream on. Do you know a magic word?’

‘Please,’ Petros said.

‘Oh, honey. That’s lovely.’ Katrina’s heart melted. ‘And do you know another one that a magician might say?’

‘Abracadabra?’ the little boy suggested.

‘That’s perfect. Now, let’s say it together. After three. One, two, three…’ She took the pot of local anaesthetic gel. ‘Abracadabra.’ She applied it to his inner elbow. ‘Now, it takes a little while to work, so I’m going to let your mummy tell you a story while I see someone else who’s feeling a bit poorly, and then I’ll come back and see you, OK?’

The little boy nodded.

‘You might see a bit of redness on his skin,’ Rhys said to Mrs Smith, ‘but that’s nothing to worry about—it’s part of the way the anaesthetic works.’

‘Thank you both so much.’ Much of the strain had gone from Mrs Smith’s face.

‘That’s what we’re here for,’ Rhys said with a smile.

Mrs Smith took Petros back over to the waiting area. After Katrina had seen her next patient, she called Petros back and took the blood sample, chatting to him and telling him some of the awful jokes she’d learned from Will to keep him distracted while she slid the needle into his vein. ‘All done. That’s brilliant,’ she told the little boy, pressing a piece of cotton wool over the site and holding it there for a few seconds before taping it on. ‘Did it hurt?’

He shook his head.

‘Good.’ She turned to Mrs Smith. ‘The results should be back later this afternoon—then I’ll know a lot more and we can talk it through. I’ll come and find you as soon as they’re back. I know it’s a pain having to wait around, and I’m sorry we can’t speed the procedure up at all. But there’s a coffee bar just outside the department if you want to go and get a drink, and across the corridor there’s a play area—there are loads of books and toys and what have you there.’ She smiled at Petros. ‘So we’ll see you a bit later on, OK, sweetheart?’

He nodded.

‘And then I’ll be able to make you feel a lot better,’ she said.

After the clinic had finished, Rhys looked round for Katrina. She wasn’t there, but when he stepped into the corridor he saw her near the double doors. ‘Katrina,’ he called, ‘are you heading for the canteen?’

She ignored him completely, letting the doors swing shut behind her.

Rhys stopped in his tracks, staring after her. She’d just blanked him. Had he upset her by butting in on her patient that morning? She hadn’t seemed upset at the time…but maybe she’d put on a professional front for the patient’s sake. Fine. He’d have a word with her later, explain that he hadn’t intended to cast any aspersions on her ability. From what he’d seen, Katrina was good at her job, and the last thing everyone needed was a personality clash to disrupt the harmony of the ward.

Rather than going to the canteen, he went to the ‘grab and go’ bar for a coffee and a sandwich that he ate at his desk while sorting out some paperwork.

Mid-afternoon, the same thing happened: he saw Katrina about to enter the staff room, called her name—and she completely ignored him.

Oh, great.

Was she still sore about that morning? Or maybe from the previous day, when he’d reminded her about the importance of professional detachment?

He couldn’t let this go on. He didn’t want to tackle her about it in the staffroom, though. It would be too public and embarrassing for both of them. No: after their shift, he’d have a quiet word with her in his office and hopefully he’d be able to reach some kind of truce with her.

Lynne called him to examine a patient; on his return, he saw Katrina sitting on the bed next to one of their patients, talking to the parents. Both parents had red eyes, and the child was white-faced. He frowned. Ruby Jeffers had been admitted with meningitis the previous week. He knew she’d been having some hearing problems and she’d had an appointment in the audiology department earlier that day in case the virus had caused damage to the cochlea or inflammation of the auditory nerve. Clearly the news wasn’t good, and he wasn’t that surprised because he knew that meningitis caused deafness in around seven per cent of children who’d had it.

But what did surprise him was when Katrina pushed her hair up on her left side. What was she doing, showing the little girl a pretty earring or something? Or maybe doing some kind of distracting magic trick, because she pulled something from her ear.

But the little girl still wasn’t smiling.

He frowned, drawing closer, and heard a snatch of conversation. ‘See? It’s really easy to take out. And easy to put in. It doesn’t hurt because it’s made to measure.’

What was?

‘What they do, they have some special stuff to make a mould. It looks like play dough and it’s pink and purple. They mix it together—and then they put it into your ear. It feels a bit weird, but it doesn’t hurt. You can feel it getting a little bit warmer, and then when they take it out they’ve got the exact shape of your ear and they can make you a special mould that fits your ear only.’

Ear? Mould?

Everything suddenly fell into place.

Ruby’s audiology test must have shown that she had hearing loss—if a further test in six weeks didn’t show a marked improvement it was very likely that she would need a hearing aid. But the way Katrina was talking felt personal—as if she knew exactly what it felt like, rather than what the audiology team had told her.

‘And you know that test you did, where you had to listen for the beeps? That showed the audiologist what you could hear. So then they can programme the hearing aid to help you hear the bits you can’t hear right now, but they don’t make the bits that you can hear any louder.’

‘And it doesn’t hurt?’ Ruby asked.

‘Nope. Once it’s in, I forget it’s even there—like I said, it’s made to fit you perfectly, and only you. Feel. It’s not heavy, is it?’

Rhys realised then that Katrina was definitely talking personally.

She wore a hearing aid.

‘And watch this.’ Katrina lifted her hair again, took the aid from the little girl’s hand and slipped it back into her ear. ‘Push this switch to turn it on—and, hey, presto, I’ve got a bionic ear. I can hear the same as your mum and dad now—well, almost.’

‘So you can’t hear, like me?’ Ruby asked, looking surprised.

‘Nope. And it hasn’t stopped me doing anything I want to do.’ She laughed. ‘Well, obviously I don’t wear it if I go swimming. It’d be like putting your handheld game console in the bath.’

Ruby giggled. ‘That’d be silly. It doesn’t work if it gets wet.’

‘Exactly.’ Katrina smiled at her. ‘So if your next test shows that you do need a hearing aid, you’ll know not to worry because you’ll be fine. And you can get special help at school if you need it.’ She looked at Ruby’s parents. ‘There are support groups, and the audiology team can work with Ruby’s school. And, believe me, a hearing aid takes a lot of the struggle out of lessons. There won’t be any difference between Ruby and everyone else in her class.’ She smiled at Ruby. ‘Except you can show people exactly what the inside of your ear looks like and really gross them out. Oh, and you can choose your colour. I had to have a clear mould because I’m a grown-up, but you can have a pink sparkly one if you want.’

‘Really?’ Ruby’s face brightened.