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Second Thoughts
Caroline Anderson
MAKING ALL HER DREAMS COME TRUELate on a hectic Friday afternoon in Audley Memorial Hospital’s paediatric outpatients’ department, Sister Jennifer Davidson mentions that she could use some pampering! Lo and behold consultant Andrew Barrett promptly offers to make her wish come true by inviting her and her seven-year-old son to spend the weekend at his country cottage! It becomes a beautiful friendship that promises to be so much more—until Jennifer’s ex-husband, her son’s father, takes a job at the Audley! But Andrew is convinced he’s the right man for Jennifer and her son—he just needs to convince her…THE AUDLEY—where love is the best medicine of all…
Second Thoughts
Caroline Anderson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u8ef11227-2155-502c-be88-9f31f445c27d)
Title Page (#ue3974b64-c9db-5d55-9f16-4287fb3187c6)
Chapter One (#ubfd5aed6-383a-547d-8502-8713e99a4d97)
Chapter Two (#uae7218f5-a39b-5402-be14-96600c9b6d1b)
Chapter Three (#u9460806c-64af-56e0-b0ea-ae205792da66)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_47f6cae3-4563-5877-8562-6b93134925ad)
‘WOULDN’T it be nice to be pampered…’
‘Pampered?’ Andrew flipped the file shut, put the cap on his fountain pen and sat back in his chair, locking his hands behind his head and stretching his long body. ‘I suppose it would.’ He chuckled. ‘I haven’t really thought about it. Too busy.’
Jennifer gave a rueful little laugh. ‘Mmm – and we’re only halfway through. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Life-saver,’ he said with a grin. ‘I missed my lunch. Are you having one?’
She chuckled. On the sly. If the patients and their parents see me sitting down with a cup in my hand while they wait for another ten minutes I’ll be lynched!’
‘Messy — bring it in here and we’ll tell them we’re having a case conference — on second thoughts, bring in the cup and the next patient. It would be nice to get home tonight.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ she said with a laugh. ‘What is it they call Friday? Poet’s Day?’
‘Push off early, tomorrow’s Saturday.’ He snorted. ‘Fat chance.’
Jennifer picked up the stack of files and went out into the crowded waiting-room to be greeted by a chorus of dissent from the ranks.
‘Sister, are we going to be waiting much longer? We’ve got people for the weekend and we have to meet them off the train,’ one woman asked anxiously.
‘Yeah, if we sit here much longer we’ll be needing geriatrics, not paediatrics,’ a man put in.
She smiled assurance at the bored children and disgruntled parents. ‘I’m sorry we’ve had to keep you so long; Dr Barrett had to deal with an emergency earlier and it’s put him back. He’ll be with you all as soon as he can.’ She gave the secretary the pile of notes and picked up the next few, then went into the kitchen and found one of the domestic staff. ‘Beattie, do me a favour, could you? Dr Barrett would love a cup of tea in his office, and I could do with one, but for heaven’s sake don’t take it out of here!’
‘After you, are they?’
Jennifer laughed and tucked an escaping strand of red-brown hair back under her frilly cap. ‘Aren’t they always? There’s a joker out there, too. “We’ll be needing geriatrics soon”,’ she mimicked wickedly. ‘Just leave my tea on the side, I’ll come and grab it when I can.’
She went back into Andrew’s office and handed him the stack of files. ‘Here you go. William Griffin first.’
‘Ah, right, our little man who’s failing to thrive. Let’s see what the results turned up.’
They opened the file and pored over the notes. ‘Stool, urine and blood cultures all sterile, no blood in the stools, blood chemistry and liver function all normal, and thyroid, and sweat sodium. That rules out thyroid problems or cystic fibrosis, or any nasty liver problems. The serology all looks good — no sign of infection. Did we get a chest X-ray back? And there should have been a barium meal and follow-through.’
‘Yes, here we are, here’s the radiologist’s report.’ Jennifer pulled it out and handed it to him just as Beattie brought in the tea.
‘Wonderful, thank you.’ He flashed her a grateful smile and slipped it while he frowned at the report. ‘Do you know what I think?’ he said after a moment. ‘I reckon he’s got an intussusception.’
‘Really? What about the stools? No sign of occult blood, or abdominal pain or vomiting. I know he had diarrhoea, but what about the cough? And the weight loss?’
‘That could be due to the anorexia — if he’s off his food, he will lose weight. Anyway, the pain and vomiting and bloody stools are typical of acute, not chronic intussuseption. I think we’ll have another look, perhaps under sedation. Is there a surgeon we can call down?’
‘Yes, I think it’s Ross Hamilton today. Shall I get him paged?’
‘Not for a bit. I’d like an ultrasound of that bowel, and I’d like to examine him to see if I can feel anything this time. Could you call him for me?’
‘Sure.’ She popped her head round the door. ‘William Griffin, please?’
His mother carried him in, a little boy of two and a half who looked at least fourth months younger.
‘Sorry, he’s dozed off,’ the mother explained.
Andrew smiled apologetically at her. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting; we had a prem baby at lunchtime that needed my attention. Let him sleep for a minute while you tell me how he’s been getting on.’
‘Oh, I can see him going downhill in front of my eyes — he’s very reluctant to eat, and he’s been sick a couple of times now. I’m so worried…’
Andrew laid his large hand over hers and squeezed gently. ‘Don’t fret. We’ve managed to rule out a lot of very nasty things. There are a couple of other possibilities that I want to eliminate with a few more tests. Has he had any abdominal pain?’
‘Once or twice he’s complained about tummy-ache, and then a while later he’s had diarrhoea.’
Andrew nodded and made a couple of notes. ‘I’d like to feel his tummy, but I don’t want to wake him if I can avoid it. The more relaxed he is, the more I can feel. Do you think you could lay him down in your arms so I can try?’
She shifted carefully, and William made a tiny noise and remained asleep.
‘He’s out for the count, isn’t he?’ Andrew chuckled softly. ‘OK, let’s see what we can feel.’
He eased up the little T-shirt, slipped the shorts down a fraction and very gently and carefully made a minute inspection of the whole abdomen. After a moment he returned to the upper right quadrant, and then pulled the T-shirt back down and looked up at the mother.
‘Right, I’d like him to have an ultrasound scan of his tummy. Did you have one when you were pregnant?’
She nodded.
‘So you know it doesn’t hurt at all — in fact, he’s so drowsy he might not even know he’d had it done. Sister will give you directions to that department, and then when we’ve got the result I’ll see you again. All right?’ Handing her the completed request form, he smiled reassuringly. ‘Give this to the receptionist in the ultrasound department.’
Mrs Griffin stood up carefully, cradling William against her chest, and Jennifer showed her out, directed her to Ultrasound and went back in.
‘You found something.’
‘Mmm. A soft mass, nothing specific. Could well be a small section of ileum intruding into the colon. Then again, it might not.’
‘So what else could it be? A tumour?’
‘Could be. Let’s hope not. We won’t know, I don’t suppose, until we open him up. As soon as he comes back I’d like Ross Hamilton down here, I think.’
She nodded. ‘Will do. Who’s next?’
He glanced at the file. ‘The Robinson triplets.’
‘You won’t recognise them. They’re huge!’
He grinned. ‘Good! We could do with a happy ending.’
She called Mr and Mrs Robinson and their three delightful little baby girls, who had been born prematurely at thirty weeks. Now almost five months, they were definitely thriving!
‘Oh, let me help you,’ Jennifer said with a smile, and took one of the babies from the mother. ‘Now, who’s this?’
The mother peered at her. ‘Megan.’
‘Right, come on, Megan, let’s go and see that nice Dr Barrett.’ The baby beamed at her, and made a grab for her pens in the top pocket. ‘Oh, no you don’t!’ she laughed. ‘Come on, madam.’
She led the little group through into Andrew’s consulting-room and watched while he greeted the whole family with his warm enthusiasm. The babies had been in his care since birth, and for a long time their grip on life had seemed fragile to say the least. Then, one by one, they grew stronger, but the smallest, Megan, had still been troubled by a slight chestiness for some time, and Andrew had felt it advisable to monitor them for three months after their discharge. Now, his delight reflected the depth of his concern in their early days.
‘Oh, well, I don’t have to lay a finger on them to tell they’re doing magnificently!’ he said, but nevertheless he inspected each one with great care, and asked endless questions about their developmental progress, feeding problems and so on. Megan’s chest appeared to have resolved itself, and Andrew declared himself well satisfied. ‘I should say they’re only about three weeks behind now, which is excellent! Give them a bit longer and you would never have known. Well, I think we can safely discharge you young ladies from our care now,’ he said to the babies, and they all gurgled on cue.
‘Heartbreakers, all of them,’ he said with a laugh, and, after answering the parents’ last few questions, he showed them out with almost visible reluctance.
‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you’d grown attached to those little girls,’ Jennifer teased.
‘Me — would I?’ he said innocently. ‘Right, who’s next?
The clinic proceeded without any hitches, and shortly before they finished little William Griffin and his mother returned to the department.
They called Ross Hamilton down, and he arrived just as they dealt with the last patient.
They called Mrs Griffin in after Andrew had filled Ross in on the results to date and examined the ultrasound image. There was an indistinct but abnormal mass shown on the picture, and after examining William Ross agreed with Andrew that it was most likely an intussusception.
They explained the implications to Mrs Griffin, and told her that he would need surgery as soon as was reasonable. Ross glanced at his watch. ‘Well, it’s getting on to do anything today. Can we admit him now and go for tomorrow morning? I’d rather have lab staff around.’
Andrew nodded, understanding his unspoken thoughts. If it proved to be a tumour rather than the loop of bowel tucked inside itself that they thought it was, then they would need biopsies and frozen sections and tissue analysis to determine further treatment. It was important to have the full backup of all necessary staff, and they were more likely to be available during the day. Also, while a minor delay would make no difference at all to William, it would give the parents time to prepare him — and themselves — for the operation and his stay in hospital.
‘Right, Mrs Griffin, can you take him home, give him a light supper and bring him back by seven this evening, and we’ll sort him out tomorrow morning. Is that OK?’
She nodded, and Ross went back to his ward, leaving Mrs Griffin looking worried. ‘Will I be able to stay with him?’
‘Oh, yes — he’s far too young to leave. He’ll need you around, if you can possibly manage it.’
‘How long will he be in?’
‘A few days — a week at the most. Is that a problem?’
She shook her head, and after a few more questions Jennifer gave her a leaflet about the paediatric unit and what she would need to bring, and showed her out. When she went back into Andrew’s office, he was just closing the file.
‘And another week bites the dust,’ he said with weary good humour.
She returned his smile. Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself.’
The clinic secretary tapped on the door and came in. ‘Can I have the files, Dr Barrett?’
‘Sure. Here we are, the last few. I’m admitting William Griffin, so his file needs to go up to the ward.’
‘I’ll pop it in on my way out. Have a good weekend.’
‘Thanks, Janet. You too.’
‘Uh-huh. Bye, Sister. See you on Monday.’
‘No doubt,’ Jennifer said with a little sigh as the door closed behind the secretary. A tiny yawn escaped her, and she laughingly apologised.
‘Tired?’
She nodded. ‘Aren’t I always? Friday’s a killer, isn’t it? The clinic always seems endless.’
‘Never mind, you’ve got the weekend to look forward to.’
‘Mmm.’
‘You don’t sound very convinced.’
She picked up the blanket on the examination couch and refolded it, hugging it against her chest. ‘Oh, I just wish it could be different for once. To have someone say, “Come on, drop everything, I’m going to take you away from it all” — wouldn’t that be wonderful?’
