Broken Heart Syndrome, page 8
‘Whatever you say darling, and you can sort me out anytime.’
I had admitted Steve yesterday, stabilized him and prepared him for the emergency angiogram. I knew that he was absolutely terrified, and any flirting he was engaging in now was out of bravado to cover his fear.
‘You’ll be okay you know,’ I continued softly, moving to his side and laying my hand over his. ‘Everything went fine yesterday.’ He held my eyes for a beat and I saw the relief wash over his features.
‘Thanks Frankie,’ he whispered, his eyes sliding to the side, likely out of embarrassment that I had spotted his fear.
Tom had been studying the notes whilst listening to our exchange, but was now staring at my hand over Steve’s. His body had gone very still. I looked down at his hands holding the notes and noticed that his knuckles were white. Once I withdrew my hand his eyes snapped to Steve’s.
‘Jesus Christ mate,’ he said abruptly. ‘Have you got a death wish?’
‘W…w…what?’ Steve stuttered, his pale face rigid with the fear that was back with a vengeance.
‘Smoking? Seriously? With type one diabetes and a family history of cardiac disease? You are either stupid, insane or you have a death wish. Which is it?’ As Tom continued his tirade Steve eyes’ filled with tears and his lips started trembling.
At this point, I was done.
I pulled in a breath, spun round to face Tom, steeled myself, and looked straight into his eyes.
‘Dr Longley, can I have a word?’ My tone was firm, which was a first when it came to Tom, and I was shocking even myself. But my anger in that moment was overriding my shyness.
Tom jerked in surprise, and looked bewildered as I pushed him out of the cubicle with a hand to his chest. Once outside the curtain, I turned on my heel and swept out of the ward into the corridor without another word, Tom hot on my heels. As soon as we cleared the double doors I spun around to face him.
‘What the hell was that?’ I semi-shouted.
‘What?’ he asked, looking stunned at my outburst.
‘You’ve scared him out of his mind. You can’t talk to patients like that.’
‘He needed a wake up call Frankie.’
‘I think, Tom,’ he narrowed his eyes at my use of his Christian name, ‘he had already got a bloody wake up call in the form of a heart attack. He is absolutely terrified and there’s no need to be so mean. You nearly made him pee his pants in there. Be mean to me if you have to, but don’t ever be mean to your patients.’
‘Mean to you?’ He was back to confused. My anger now was slowly receding, and I was beginning to come back to the reality of the situation. Here I was, standing in a hallway, shouting at my boss and glaring straight into his eyes.
Jeepers. I abruptly broke eye contact and looked at the floor sucking in an unsteady breath.
‘No,’ Tom said softly, ‘No way Frankie. You cannot give me your eyes and throw attitude at me and then take it away. I’ll be mean to every sodding patient we have if it means you’ll actually look at me.’
‘Fine,’ I clipped, back to being cross, and my eyes met his. Bizarrely this made him smile. It was official: he was insane.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve been mean to you Frankie,’ he said softly, his face now serious.
‘It’s okay,’ I said quickly, wishing I could rewind time and retract that stupid comment. ‘I know you don’t do it deliberately. Don’t worry about it; lots of people are dismissive of people like me. It doesn’t matter. I’m used to it, honestly.’
His brows drew together, ‘People like you? What do you mean?’
Oh God. I really, really didn’t want to get into this with Tom. I had already revealed too much.
‘Look,’ I said nervously to his shoulder, distractedly noticing that his shirt needed a good iron. ‘They must be wondering where we are now, lets go back.’
‘I don’t give a…what was it you said again? Ah yes...a flying foo foo,’ he declared. ‘Mary and Ash will sort it out. I want to know what kind of people you think you are.’
‘No, no, no,’ I said in a panic. ‘I am not talking to you about this with you. No way. It’s not important.’ He stepped more into my space and his hand came up to my cheek, tipping my face to look up at his.
‘I think we need to talk about this Frankie. I think it’s crucial we talk about it,’ he declared firmly. Then more softly, ‘I think I might have been mistaken in a big way about you.’ I tried to step away but he moved with me.
‘Let me go,’ I whispered.
‘Okay,’ he whispered back, ‘for now,’ he clarified. I stepped back quickly and started walking back into the ward. ‘One more thing Frankie,’ he said, catching my arm to pull me to a halt. ‘I want you to call me Tom, okay?’
‘But you said…’
‘I don’t care what I said,’ he told me. ‘I was being a… how does Lou put it? A gankface?’
I blinked then tilted my head to the side. I didn’t say anything because there really wasn’t much I could add. He had been a gankface, but I had no idea when Lou had said that to his face.
‘Okay Frankie?’
‘Oh…kay,’ I said slowly.
‘Okay what?’ he moved into my space again. I had fallen into a Tom Stupor and had lost the power of speech. I felt that familiar itch in my hand again to touch his hair.
‘Frankie?’
‘Okay…T-Tom,’ I managed to get out and he smiled.
Chapter 10
Me Tarzan, you Jane
Great.
Another excursion to the stupid, smelly, boring cath lab.
‘Frankie, why the hell are your feet bare?’ Tom snapped, looking down at the floor. Irrationally I was insanely glad that Lou painted my toes the night before.
‘I….um…well.’
‘Jesus, put your clogs back on. God knows what could drop on them,’ he clipped. I didn’t know why it was such a big deal, or why the muscle in his jaw was ticking as he stared at my feet. He seemed to have to tear his gaze away from them, and was in a foul mood for the rest of the procedure.
Unfortunately it was a particularly long angiogram, with multiple stents inserted, and Tom had kept up a steady stream of questions. We were just finishing when I felt the familiar nausea sweeping through me, and my skin getting clammy.
‘Which one Frankie?’ Tom asked impatiently.
‘W...w…what?’ I asked. Dark was closing in on my peripheral vision.
‘Which technique should you use for the bifurcation lesion: kissing balloon or shotgun?’
‘I…kissing a sh…shotgun? I-‘
‘Which is the most...oh shit! Somebody catch her!’
Nobody did bloody catch me though, and I know this because when I woke up the back of my head was throbbing. I opened my eyes and saw Tom looming over me, his features a mask of concern. Reaching up to the back of my head I felt wetness there, and when I brought my hand back I was shocked to see it was covered in blood. Tom’s face lost all colour, and his eyes looked a little wild as they flashed to my hand.
‘Get me some fucking gauze,’ he shouted, and then pressed something to the back of my head. ‘Frankie, why didn’t you say anything?’ he asked accusingly. I should have known that this would all be my fault; I can’t even faint in peace. I glanced up at the operating table and saw that Ash had taken over. Great. Stuck with Mr Cobby Coberson. ‘Frankie I asked you a question.’ He looked furious.
‘Please,’ I said in a small voice, ‘I swear I’ll vomit if you ask me any more questions.’ He closed his eyes and when he opened them again his expression had softened.
‘I’m sorry,’ his voice was strained and weird, not normal Tom being an arsehole voice at all. Maybe he’d hit his head as well. He was turning my head now and examining the cut. ‘I think it’s going to need a couple of stitches Frankie.’
‘Bugger,’ I muttered under my breath. I hated needles.
‘That’s the closest thing to swearing I’ve ever heard from you,’ Tom said. Looking up again I could tell he was biting back a smile. I managed to glare right at him, looking into his eyes and everything. My head injury must have been worse than I thought.
‘Ash, you okay to finish?’ he asked.
‘I’m good boss.’
‘Okay then.’ He kept up the pressure on the gauze whilst he wrapped a pressure bandage around my head to hold it secure. Once he’d finished he slid an arm under my knees and another around my shoulders. I stiffened as shock swept through me.
‘You ready?’ he asked.
‘Ready for what?’ I managed to reply in a tight, high voice.
‘To go to A&E, get you stitched up,’ he said. Then, before waiting for the reply, he started lifting me into his arms and stood with me against his chest.
I knew a fair bit about head injuries, and I was sure that a huge adrenaline rush, losing the ability to breathe, and your heart stopping directly after one was ill-advised. However, this was my uncontrollable reaction to being held against the hard, warm expanse of his chest.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, horrified. They had finished up with the patient and all eyes, including the patient’s, were now staring at Tom and I in fascination.
‘Taking you to A&E,’ Tom declared, pushing through the double doors with me still held tightly in his arms.
‘Are you mad?’ I breathed as he strode down the corridor, totally confident and oblivious to the curious stares we were receiving, like he carried women around the hospital every day.
‘A&E’s not far and you’re not heavy,’ he said dismissively.
‘That’s not exactly the point Tom. You can’t carry me there. What will people say?’
‘I don’t really give a shit.’
‘I can walk,’ I said struggling slightly in his arms, which tightened around me in response.
‘Stop wriggling,’ he said in a hoarse voice and I saw his jaw clench.
‘Put me down,’ I begged, ceasing my fruitless battle against his solid strength.
‘Frankie, you look like a ghost you’re so pale. You can’t walk,’ he told me firmly as he pushed through the double doors to A&E.
‘Oh fy duw!’ I heard a voice in front of us, and turned my head to see Lizzy emerge from one of the cubicles, the shock of seeing me in Tom’s arms flipping her back into welsh. ‘Frankie, are you okay?’ Lizzy was an A&E registrar and a friend of Lou’s and mine. She was short, plump and pretty with dark hair in a pixie cut.
‘Um-’ I started, but was cut off by Lizzy.
‘Let’s get you into a cubicle.’
I breathed a sigh of relief as she hustled us both behind the curtain. ‘You can put her down by yur Dr Longley.’ She was looking at us both with open curiosity. Tom still kept his arms tightly around me.
‘Tom,’ I called, giving his neck a squeeze then unwinding my arms from around it. He looked dazed for a moment, and then seemed to snap back to attention.
‘Right, of course,’ he muttered, lowering me gently onto the trolley like I was made of bone china. ‘She fainted. Hit her head hard. She’s got a three centimeter laceration at the back which needs stitching.’
‘I can speak for myself,’ I said impatiently, glaring up at him.
‘Firstly, you were unconscious, so you don’t know how loud that crack was when your head hit the bloody floor,’ he said fiercely. ‘And secondly, you can’t see the back of your own head, so it stands to reason that you can’t describe the injury.’ It was then I noticed that his body was rigid, and his jaw was clenched. He looked visibly shaken and worried; maybe he was scared I would sue him or something?
‘I’m okay Tom,’ I said softly to try and defuse the tension.
‘No you’re not, but you bloody well will be,’ he replied grimly, turning to Lizzy who was watching our exchange in fascination. ‘Do you think we could get on with this,’ he clipped.
Lizzy, totally not intimidated by Tom’s terse manner, smiled a bizarrely huge smile; as if me receiving a head injury was the best news she’d had in weeks.
‘I’ll just set up the trolley,’ she said brightly. As I watched her unloading a dressing pack and sutures, I sucked in a shaky breath and turned to Tom.
‘Can you bleep Lou for me,’ I said in a small voice. I needed to hold someone’s hand. ‘Or Dylan if she doesn’t answer.’
‘Of course,’ he replied and swept out of the cubicle.
‘Wowzers,’ Lizzy said after he cleared the curtain. ‘He might not rev my motor but if anyone could straighten me out I reckon it would be that boy.’
‘Yeah,’ I sighed wistfully and her gaze snapped to my face. She started unwinding the bandage to inspect the back of my head, her features awash with curiosity.
‘Soooo,’ she drew out the word, ‘want to explain to me why you two are doing the whole “Officer and a Gentleman” thing through the hospital?’
‘I fell in the cath lab,’ I explained. ‘I think he’s worried I might sue or something.’ She looked at me with a frustrated expression.
‘You’re a moron,’ she declared, going back to the job of inspecting my cut.
‘Thanks very much,’ I replied hotly.
‘Well you are. He’s not worried you’re going to sue him, you idiot,’ she said impatiently.
‘A Moron and an idiot. You’re just full of complements today aren’t you,’ I huffed. Lizzy ignored me.
‘A man who’s worried a woman might sue after a head injury, puts her in a wheelchair and gets the porters to take her to A&E. A man who cares about a woman who’s had a head injury, and is worried about her, picks her up and carries her, officer and a gentleman style, to A&E.’
‘Lizzy-’ I tried to interrupt, but she wasn’t done.
‘Then when he arrives he hesitates to set her down because he likes the feel of his arms around her. Then he looks at me like he’s going to rip my head off if I don’t hurry up and fix her. That man cares about said woman, is worried about her, and wants her to be okay, so that ultimately he can get in her knickers.’
‘He does not,’ I said furiously. She searched my face for a moment and sighed.
‘God. Frankie. You really believe that, don’t you? I just don’t understand why you are so clueless. I’ve talked to Lou about it and I-’
‘Lizzy,’ I cut her off, ‘now that we’ve established that I’m a clueless, idiotic moron, can we just get on with this.’ Tom chose that moment to sweep back into the cubicle.
‘Lou and Dylan are both on a ward round at the rehab hospital Frankie,’ he said, coming to my side.
Crap. The rehab hospital was miles away. I’d forgotten they had to go there once a week.
‘What did you need them for?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ I said in a falsely bright tone. ‘I’ll be fine, you can go.’
There was no way that I was going to admit my fear of needles, and that I needed one of them to hold my hand. He was looking at me closely. I could tell that he didn’t buy my façade of bravado.
‘Okay Frankie,’ Lizzy said from behind me. ‘I’m just going to clean it a little before I put the local in. I can really give it a thorough wash out once we get you numbed up okay?’
‘Yeah okay,’ I said, unable to hide the tremble in my voice. I pressed my lips together and squeezed my eyes shut as she started cleaning. Suddenly I felt a warm hand over mine on the bed. My eyes flew open and I stared at Tom, who had a determined expression on his face.
‘You don’t have to-’ I started, but stopped as I felt the prick of the needle into my scalp. Instead of withdrawing my hand as I had intended, I squeezed his in a vice-like grip, and to my embarrassment emitted a small squeak. Tom didn’t flinch and squeezed my hand in return. The worst part was the local anaesthetic and after that the stitches didn’t take long. Embarrassed, I tried to let go of Tom’s hand when the anaesthetic kicked in, but he seemed intent on holding onto me.
Once it was over Lizzy started reeling off the head injury advice: couldn’t be alone overnight, can’t drive, signs and symptoms to watch out for. I protested that I knew all of this, but she insisted that I needed to be ‘Treated like a proper patient.’ Unfortunately this also involved asking me my next of kin for the paperwork.
‘Louise Sands,’ I muttered, looking at the floor.
‘Sorry?’ Lizzy asked.
‘It’s Lou okay,’ I said defensively, meeting Lizzy eyes, which were full of understanding.
‘Right, yes, of course,’ she said, trying to gloss over the awkwardness. Unfortunately Tom, as ever, didn’t miss a trick.
‘Is Lou your sister?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Then why-?’ Thankfully Lizzy decided to jump in and save me at that point. Although in this case it was out of the frying pan and into the fire.
‘How are you getting home Frankie?’ she asked. It was now past five o’clock and the angiogram list had finished.
‘It’s not far, I’ll be fine.’
‘What do you mean, “you’ll be fine”,’ Tom asked, his brows drawing together. He still hadn’t let go of my hand, and I tried to yank it free again, without success. ‘You can’t drive.’
‘I know that,’ I said. ‘I’m not driving.’
‘You’re not getting a taxi either. I’ll drive you,’ he declared.
‘No, no, no, no,’ I said in horror, deciding to argue anyway. ‘I’m fine, and I need to get my bike home.’
‘You’re not riding a bloody bike,’ he roared, going red in the face.
‘I’ll just leave you guys to it okay?’ Lizzy put in, smirking as she left the cubicle.
I finally managed to pull my hand free and swung my legs over the side of the trolley. Jumping down, to my annoyance I had a sudden rush of blood to my head and swayed on my feet. Tom’s hands shot out to steady me, but I shrugged him off. He sighed and ran both hands through his hair.
‘Frankie, you can barely stand. You are not riding your bike.’ His tone had softened but it was still firm. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists by my sides, wishing that Lou or Dylan were here. ‘Look, please let me take you home. I feel like a total shit forcing you to come to the cath lab, when you clearly hate it. Obviously being an interventionist isn’t for you, I shouldn’t have pushed. There’s loads of other stuff I can set up for you: echos, electrophysiology.’ What was he on about? Of course I wasn’t interested in intervention. I wasn’t interested in any aspect of cardiology full stop. ‘Then I made you put your crocs on. You knew you might faint, didn’t you?’
