A Perfect Hero
“Clare lifted her head and eased her arms away from Michael’s shoulders. He was asleep again, his hair tousled, and he looked suddenly very young and vulnerable.
Deborah’s mouth tightened in sympathy. She took his pulse, counted his breathing and then slipped the thermometer under his tongue. He didn’t stir, either then or when she inflated the cuff of the sphygmomanometer to check his blood-pressure.
‘OK?’ Clare asked softly. Deborah nodded.
‘Mr Mayhew’s on the ward—he’s coming to have a look a...t the stump in a minute. How’s he going on fluids?’ She checked the level of the water jug, jotted the amount on the chart and returned the board to the end of the bed just as Tim Mayhew came in.
‘Ah, Clare, my dear—out of uniform at last. How is the patient?’ he asked, skimming the charts.
‘Sleeping a lot. I think it’s sinking in.’ He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, that is always the hardest part with a traumatic amputation. The next hurdle is getting him to look at it without a dressing—which is what I want to do now.MoreLess
Deborah’s mouth tightened in sympathy. She took his pulse, counted his breathing and then slipped the thermometer under his tongue. He didn’t stir, either then or when she inflated the cuff of the sphygmomanometer to check his blood-pressure.
‘OK?’ Clare asked softly. Deborah nodded.
‘Mr Mayhew’s on the ward—he’s coming to have a look a...t the stump in a minute. How’s he going on fluids?’ She checked the level of the water jug, jotted the amount on the chart and returned the board to the end of the bed just as Tim Mayhew came in.
‘Ah, Clare, my dear—out of uniform at last. How is the patient?’ he asked, skimming the charts.
‘Sleeping a lot. I think it’s sinking in.’ He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, that is always the hardest part with a traumatic amputation. The next hurdle is getting him to look at it without a dressing—which is what I want to do now.MoreLess
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