Yankee Surgeon (8 page)

“So this is why you tell me to stay in my bed—so that you can have a party with a theater staff nurse!”

CHAPTER FOUR

The silence that greeted Claris Stornoway
’
s angry entrance into the surgeons
’
room seemed to go on and on. It took Sally several seconds to realize that John was furious; she would have shrunk back in her corner if he hadn
’
t kept his grip on her wrist. She could catch a glimpse of George
’
s face and she knew he was watching to see how John would deal with the situation.

“Unless I
’
m getting plumb deaf I distinctly heard Dr. Brown tell you that your presence was not required, Dr. Stornoway. If you managed to hear that this case was coming to the theater, it could be that you also heard that Dr. Brown and Staff Nurse have just finished another one that took two hours. It is also none of your business if I choose to serve coffee to two of my team before starting on a further job that will take at least another two hours.” The voice grew crisper. “I guess I also happen to know, although Dr. Brown did not tell me, that he took over your calls—but I won
’
t go into the reasons why. You are
not
on duty unless we happen to get a major disaster in this area, and I don
’
t reckon that
’
s occurred in the last five minutes. Go back to bed and if you
’
ve got any sense
at all in that silly little head of yours, you could remember that house surgeons are
expendable
at St. Bride
’
s.” He brushed aside any attempted excuse and strode toward the door with Sally still in tow. “Come on, Nurse Conway, we have work to do. Ready, Brown?”

Sally knew that none of them would ever forget that moment and Claris Stornoway least of all. The woman might try to ignore it for reasons of her own where John was concerned, but she would never forgive Sally and George for being the witnesses of her humiliating reproval.

Sally knew a fleeting pity as she heard the high heels clipping along the corridor toward the stairs, but she forgot it all when she saw their patient being wheeled into
t
he anesthetic room.

Dr. Gerrard was at the head of the stretcher, holding a bottle of plasma aloft in one hand, and the fingers of the other were at the boy
’
s temple. The color of the young face was the dirty gray of a London fog and the eyes appeared sunken in the extremes of shock. Rough splints seemed to encase most of his limbs and already the first-aid dressings put on by the ambulance men were stained.

The anesthetist looked up worriedly at the American surgeon. “He
’
ll not stand much anesthetic, you know. What do you intend to tackle first?”

John gazed at the boy thoughtfully and felt the racing pulse. “He
’
ll not do at all well until we get rid of that ruptured spleen. Did the blood transfusion people say how long you
’
d have to wait for a bottle of the stuff?”

Dr. Gerrard nodded. “They
’
ve got six pints on the way now and there
’
s more if you need it. This is the second pint of plasma we
’
ve started on.”

“Okay then. The sooner we whip that spleen out the better. All right, let
’
s go.” There was no hint of dismay at the difficult, perhaps impossible task that lay ahead.

Afterward Sally could only remember and admire the deft sureness and speed with which he worked that night against odds that might have made a lesser surgeon shrink. It took all her skill to keep the two men supplied with instruments, ligatures, hot packs, small gauze mops on long holders, and all during the frantic struggle she knew the two theater nurses were behind her to anticipate every need of them all.

“Strong ligature, Nurse. That
’
s it. Move the clamp just a shade, Brown, so I can get around the points. That
’
s the stuff. Now, slowly
off ...
there, that
’
s got it. A nice big dish, Nurse, and then more of those hot packs
of yours ...
hot enough to skin a lizard ... that
’
s the girl. How
’
s he doing at your end, Gerrard?”

“Better now that you
’
ve got the spleen out. Second blood bottle going up, and the pulse is steadying down a trifle, but he
’
s got a long way
to go...”

As they proceeded, Sally felt the tension that had hung over theater a brief moment ago vanish like mist from the hillside.

A comfortable silence fell over the theater. The end was in sight. The patient was a little stronger, and with luck and youth on his side he had a chance of living.

John glanced at Sally and George. “Now go and draw a breath of fresh air, the pair of you, and then tell us what it
’
s like.”

George came up behind her. “Let me do that for you, Sally.” Sally found herself swaying a little on her feet as she tugged off the heavy gown. George took her firmly by the shoulder.

“Come on, little one ... some cold water on your face and you
’
ll feel much, much better.” He guided her into the little kitchenette adjoining the theater unit.

Sally splashed cold water on her face and wrists gratefully and felt the world swing back into focus. “That
’
s
better...
”
She glanced at George who was watching her critically. “Well, what do you think of our American surgeon?”

“He
’
s quite a guy,” he said simply. “I
’
m glad it didn
’
t have to be my decision, but he was right.” He stretched to his full height and then relaxed with a sigh. “You do that phoning, Sally, and I
’
ll go rustle some eggs and bacon. Be an angel and put the kettle on. I don
’
t think anything but English tea will keep us ticking over this time ... no matter
who
made the coffee!”

The hilarious breakfast session that followed was not one that Sally was likely to forget. Dr. Gerrard had excused himself and departed, so the three of them crowded into the small kitchenette and sat on theater stools and tucked into bacon and eggs, thick slices of bread, and mugs of tea.

“Say, this tea isn
’
t such bad stuff the way you make it! It
’
s got a bit of body
to it ...
not like the wishy-washy stuff they call tea back home. You could give me a refill, Nurse Conway, if you have the strength to lift the teapot, and better make it three spoonfuls of sugar this trip. Have to take a clinic in a couple of hours from now. Little white bed, how I love thee! But I don
’
t think I
’
ll be seeing you
until tonight ...
somehow. What about you, George?”

George mopped the last trace of the egg from his plate with a piece of bread. “The casualty officer begins work at nine, sir.”

“
Even though he works through the night, eh? And John
’
s the name when the big brass isn
’
t around. What about that sidekick of yours? Isn
’
t she up to the job?”

The corners of George
’
s mouth twitched as he remembered last night
’
s scene. “She
’
s got the ability, sir, but—”

“Not the inclination,” John interrupted tersely. “I get you. I
’
ll have to look into that little matter. What about you, Sally?” He grinned slightly. “Or do first names shake your formal soul? You
’
d better learn to call me John while you
’
re at it. It makes for good practice before you head for God
’
s own
country ...
Still want to see what makes Americans tick?”

Sally had to say it. “How did you know I wanted to go?” She didn
’
t look in George
’
s direction.

“How? Rumor of course. But back to work now. We
’
ve got some clearing up to do out yonder.”

Sally never got a chance to find out the nature of that rumor. Nor was she invited to help with the cleaning. She was shut firmly in with the dirty instruments and told not to interfere. She could hear occasional muffled shouts from the theater and the sounds of water being sloshed around. She had put the last of the trays of scrubbed instruments into the sterilizer when the door was unlocked.

“You can come in now, if you
’
re a good girl, Sally.”

Sally looked at the two men standing there in the doorway. Water was dripping off their long rubber aprons and there were splotches of wet on their shirts and their hair looked suspiciously damp.

She was allowed to step past them into the theater and she had never seen it quite so clean or quite so glistening wet. Her hand went to the switch of the hot air system.

“I
’
d better put this on high,” she said hastily. “You
’
ve done a wonderful job, boys. Just say a prayer that there hasn
’
t been a flood.”

There was a tap on the outer door and the nurse from Mary Ward put her head cautiously around the corner. “Staff Nurse, have you had a sterilizer overflow? There
’
s water coming down the fire stairs
and...
”
She caught sight of the two men and stopped.

Sally rallied her senses. “If you ask Bill nicely he
’
ll find you a porter to mop it up. I
’
m afraid we had a slight accident with ... the water.”

The nurse withdrew, but only just in time. George and John were hugging one another trying to smother their laughter. Sally looked at them.

“I think the sooner you two depart the better. I need a few shreds of reputation left. Thanks a million ... for everything.”

“Same to you, Sally,” the two men said in one breath. “And think of us when you climb in that lovely soft white bed of yours.” The two doctors headed toward the surgeons
’
room a brief second before the day staff began to stream up the stairs and around the corner.

Sally was making the final entry in the operations book when the theater superintendent came briskly into the office.

“What
’
s been going on in this department, Staff Nurse? Dirty clothes strewn on the floor in the surgeons
’
room, dirty dishes in the sink, no glove drums
done...”

Sally stood up. “Sorry, Sister, but we had two cases.”

“Two cases, Staff Nurse? I would have thought by the condition in which I find the department that you had had a dozen cases! Really! When I was a staff nurse I can assure you I managed better than you appear to have done.
Now...”

“Good morning, Sister. I fear that I have used your theater team a lot in the night and I
’
m sorry if it
’
s caused you any inconvenience.”

There was a chilly little silence and Sally began to feel sorrier for John than she had for herself.

“Really, Dr. Tremayne? I presume the cases needed doing and my theater staff are here for that purpose. Now if you
’
ll excuse me, Dr. Tremayne. I have things to do. You may go, Staff Nurse. One of the juniors will finish for
you ...
this time.”

She swept past them out into the corridor and went toward the main theater. As she did so George came out of the surgeons
’
room with his arms full of laundry just behind her, but Sally caught him by the arm and John gestured him into silence until the doors had swung to.

Sally snatched the bundle from him. “I
’
ll deal with this ... it
’
s caused enough bother already,” she whispered fiercely. “John will explain.”

“The theater super
’
s handing but rockets, so watch your step, brother! Sally
’
s had it in the neck and I got the frozen mitt when I tried to stop the blast. See you later, and thanks for giving me a hand.”

When Sally walked wearily down the stairs she found John waiting for her around the first corner.

“Any more handouts from your boss?” he asked.

Sally shook her head. “She
’
s in the theater checking instruments with the nurses.”

He fell into step beside her. “Sort of takes the joy out of a nice piece of teamwork, doesn
’
t it, or have you got used to it?”

“Not really. I keep hoping she
’
ll decide we
’
ve done well, and put the criticisms at the end where they wouldn
’
t sting so much,
but ...
she never does. Thanks for trying anyway.” She found a tired smile.

He looked at her sharply. “Say, Sally, I don
’
t have to start that clinic for another hour. How about us finding a high, high hill and breathing some real fresh air?”