Trauma (23 page)

Lafferty replaced the receiver and put his hands to his cheeks. He massaged them gently while he thought about what Main had said. McKirrop had used the term 'yobs' in his semi conscious ramblings and it had registered with him as being incongruous. Now Main had described the four men in the pub as 'yobs'. This meant that it hadn't been just a bad choice of word on McKirrop's part. The grave robbers really had been young tearaways. He returned to his earlier hypothesis that yobs didn't steal bodies. So what did it all mean?

Main's idea could be right. They could have been doing the dirty work for someone else but it sounded as if they hadn't suggested that themselves when Main confronted them. According to Main, they had said he had 'got it all wrong'. That was interesting, thought Lafferty. When an accused said something like that it was usually a precursor to a plea of innocence but if the men admitted being there in the cemetery that night how could they possibly hope to plead innocence?

Sarah decided to stay for the tests on Mary O'Donnell although, in theory, she could have gone off duty after Tyndall's departure. She was present when Logan completed the final scan. He sighed deeply and said, 'She's not even borderline; there's no activity at all.' He handed the results to her and she sifted through the untidy bunch of papers, first separating the chart graphs from the print-out rolls. It did not take long to see that Logan was right; there was no doubt. To all intents and purposes, Mary O'Donnell was dead. Even the Sigma Scan, the most sensitive test of all, was flat-lining. The young girl in the bed whose chest moved up and down to the rhythm of an electric relay valve was just an empty shell with no more living substance than a photograph.

'I'll call the professor,' said Logan. 'Maybe you can get the parents to come in this afternoon? The sooner we get this over with the better.' Logan went to the doctors' room to phone; he returned after a couple of minutes and said, 'Professor Tyndall can manage this afternoon, it now depends on the parents.'

'I'll call them,' said Sarah.

'The Professor will be here at two thirty. Ask them if they can come at two will you? I'd like to have a word with them first.'

Sarah looked at Logan who met her stare without flinching. 'Very well,' she said.

'By the way, Professor Tyndall would like you to be present when he

sees them. Part of your training.'

Sarah walked towards the duty room with a heavy heart. She knew that the O'Donnells would have spent all night hoping and praying that their daughter would pull through, their nerves would be stretched to breaking point and when the phone rang, it would be snatched up with anxious hands. She tapped out the numbers with her index finger. She did it slowly and deliberately as if unwilling to initiate a train of events which would lead to such unhappiness. The phone was answered at the first ring.

'Yes?' said Jean O'Donnell's voice.

Sarah swallowed hard and said, 'Mrs O'Donnell, It's Sarah Lasseter here at the Infirmary. I wonder if you and your husband could come in this afternoon to have a word with Dr Logan and Professor Tyndall?'

'What's happened? Is she worse?' asked Jean O'Donnell.

Sarah could hear Joe O'Donnell in the background asking what was going on. 'We've had the chance to run some tests now and it's now a question of discussing the results with you.'

'Discussing,' said Jean O'Donnell slowly.

'Professor Tyndall will explain everything this afternoon,' said Sarah gently.

'I see,' replied Jean distantly.

Sarah knew that Jean O'Donnell had understood the implications of the meeting. She no longer sounded anxious. Her voice had lost its animation. Something had left her. Sarah knew it was hope.

'Would two o'clock be all right?'

'We'll be there.'

Sarah was glad that Tyndall always made a point of speaking to relatives himself when there was bad news to impart. He was good with the patients; he was equally good with the relatives. He had the great advantage of looking the part and, at times like this, it was important. He was the kind of man that relatives would want to see, a reassuringly establishment figure, well dressed, silver haired, sympathetic, understanding. She suspected that Logan could be pretty awful and worried about why he wanted to see the O'Donnells first. Surely he could not be considering pre-empting Professor Tyndall in asking for permission for organ removal? Dealing with grieving relatives was an aspect of her work that she had so far managed to avoid thanks to Tyndall's custom of seeing them himself but it couldn't be avoided indefinitely. Death was a constant visitor to a unit like HTU.

As two o'clock came with no sign of the O'Donnells, Sarah noticed that Logan was becoming anxious. He started looking at his watch at half minute intervals. At quarter past the hour he was clearly losing patience. 'Where the hell are they?' he said out loud. Sarah, not sure if she should reply or not muttered something about them being delayed. She was secretly pleased that it was beginning to look as if the O'Donnells would not be seeing Logan after all. This proved to be the case when Professor Tyndall arrived early at twenty past and the O'Donnells had still not appeared. Sarah heard Logan swear under his breath as he himself disappeared.

The O'Donnells arrived at twenty-five past with Joe apologising for having to change a wheel on the car. 'Bloody kids,' he muttered but didn't elaborate. Tyndall got up when Jean O'Donnell entered the room. She had done it tentatively despite having been told to 'go right in'. She still thought it right to tap gently on the door with her knuckles and put her head round first. Tyndall smiled and got up to shake her hand. Sarah noted that the smile was just right, not so broad as to indicate that everything was going well but not so wan as to suggest that it was just a social nicety. Tyndall shook hands with Joe who followed behind and then with Ryan Lafferty who came in last and caused Tyndall to raise his eyebrows. Lafferty explained, 'Mrs O'Donnell asked me if I would be present this afternoon, if that's all right with you Professor?'

'Of course,' replied Tyndall. 'Do sit down.'

Sarah exchanged smiles with the O'Donnells and with Lafferty who said to her, 'Don't you ever sleep Doctor?' Sarah replied with a smile.

Tyndall took off his glasses and laid them on the desk in front of him. He said gently, 'It's best if I come straight to the point. We have carried out a full range of tests on your daughter and frankly, the news is not good.'

Tyndall paused and Jean and Joe drew closer together. Sarah noted that Jean was outwardly calm but she saw that she was holding Joe's hand so tightly that her knuckles were showing white.

Tyndall continued, 'We have been unable to detect any indication of brain activity in Mary, using a wide range of tests and the most sensitive equipment available to medicine. None at all.'

Sarah noted that although the delivery of the words was sympathetic the substance was quite brutally frank. Tyndall had taken no time at all to get to the point. Mary was brain dead; there was no hope for her.

'Couldn't she just be in a coma, like?' asked Joe after a short pause. His voice sounded rough and uneven compared to Tyndall's well modulated tones. It seemed to fracture the air in the little room.

'No. I'm afraid not,' said Tyndall. 'To all intents and purposes I'm afraid we have to conclude that Mary is brain dead.'

Jean looked as if time had stopped for her. Her expression froze, leaving her eyes as the mirrors of a deep sadness. Joe's face, on the other hand, took on a sudden flurry of animation, seemingly registering surprise, dismay and anguish all at the same time. 'What exactly does that mean?' he asked. 'Brain dead?'

'It means that your daughter cannot recover. She is beyond saving. I'm most terribly sorry.'

'But she's still on that machine isn't she?' said Joe. 'There's time yet surely. I mean you read every day about people coming round after being unconscious for years even?'

Tyndall shook his head and said, 'I'm sorry, that's different. These people still have brain function despite being unconscious. Mary has no such function. She is in reality, dead. The machines are keeping her respiration and her circulation going but these are simple mechanical processes. Mary will never be able to do them for herself again.

But . . .' Joe started to protest but his eyes were filling with tears and he kept shaking his head as if trying to free himself of the facts.

Jean took his hand up to her lips and kissed it. She was crying herself but she said gently, Mary's gone love, we have to face it.'

Lafferty chose to stay in the background. He wanted to help but the couple were comforting each other. He wasn't really needed; he didn't want to intrude.

After a few moments, Jean O'Donnell said to Tyndall, 'You’ll want to turn the machine off then?'

Tyndall nodded gently.

Sarah again thought the gesture absolutely right. Potentially this was the most emotionally agonising bridge to cross for the parents but Tyndall had led them gently and sympathetically over it; he had almost made it appear a technical after-thought.

Jean and Joe held each other and nodded their assent. Lafferty remained as a spectator.

Tyndall put his hand to his head as if uncomfortable and said, 'There is just one other thing I have to ask you.'

Sarah took a deep breath but pretended she hadn't.

Jean and Joe O'Donnell looked at Tyndall attentively but did not speak.

Tyndall continued as if the words were causing him pain. 'It is just possible that Mary could help some other patient.'

The O'Donnells looked puzzled. 'Help?' asked Jean.

Tyndall paused then said, 'Her organs ...’

Joe O'Donnell's face hardened and his eyes took on an angry look. 'No way!' he stormed. 'No one touches my little girl. Is that clear?'

'Perfectly,' replied Tyndall gently. 'If you don't want it then there is no question about it. Your wishes will be respected.'

Joe calmed down almost as quickly as he had flared up and Sarah thought that Tyndall might have another go at getting transplant permission but he did not. He obviously considered it a lost cause.

'Could we see her just one more time?' asked Jean.

'Of course,' said Tyndall. He turned to Sarah and said, 'Would you?'

Sarah nodded and led the O'Donnells through to where their daughter lay. She felt a lump in her throat as the couple took what was to be a last long look at their daughter. Joe O'Donnell turned to her at one point and asked in a hoarse whisper, 'She won't suffer, will she?'

'No,' replied Sarah fighting back her own tears. 'She's beyond all that.'

Sarah could sense a potentially awkward situation looming where neither of the O'Donnells would want to leave their daughter, knowing it would be for the last time and she herself was not sure how long she should give them before suggesting it herself. In the event, Tyndall solved the problem for her. He joined them and said gently to the O'Donnells, 'I'm afraid there are a few formalities we have to go through.' He led the parents away leaving Sarah on her own. She was joined almost immediately by Ryan Lafferty who saw that she was about to lose the battle to contain her tears.

'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,' he said.

'Sometimes I hate this job,' said Sarah.

Lafferty put his arm around her and the first tears started to roll down her cheeks. 'Look at me,' she sobbed. 'I'm supposed to be a doctor and I'm behaving like a silly schoolgirl!'

'Caring was never a crime, Doctor,' said Lafferty. 'The world could do with a lot more "silly schoolgirls".'

Sarah dried her eyes with her handkerchief and recovered her composure before nodding to Lafferty and saying, 'Thank you.'

It was time for Lafferty to take his own last look at Mary O'Donnell. The next time he saw her would be at her funeral service.

'Would you like me to leave?' asked Sarah.

Lafferty nodded without turning round and Sarah melted away.

Lafferty felt the lump in his throat as he looked at the young face of Mary O'Donnell, so pale, so peaceful. He read the ID card on the end of the bed. Mary O'Donnell, d.o.b. 13.1.78. Nineteen seventy-eight seemed like only yesterday. The passing of time seemed to accelerate exponentially as you got older but fifteen was still very young.

Lafferty noticed the Greek letter in the bottom corner of the card and he remembered having seen it somewhere before. It had been on the card that John Main had placed in the centre of the Ouija board in his flat. At the time he couldn't remember what it was called. Now he could; it was the Greek letter, Sigma.

Lafferty commended the soul of Mary O'Donnell to the keeping of the Lord while Joseph and Jean wept and Sarah bit her lip. Murdoch Tyndall switched off the respirator and Mary's chest fell for the last time to remain at rest. There was a moment when the silence seemed almost unbearable but Tyndall quickly filled the gap and ushered the parents out of the room.

'Will you be at the funeral Dr Lasseter?' asked Lafferty.