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Synopsis
Seven weeks ago Nurse Jo Wilde had been cruelly jilted days before her wedding. Then her leg had been badly broken in a car accident. It was taking time but only now was she anywhere near physical and mental recovery. Still, with the support of family and friends she was back at work, tentatively enjoying life hoping for a better future. She was seeing something of Dr Ben Franklin, an old friend who was becoming more than a friend.. He made her happy, he was an obviously caring man, so unlike her previous fiancé. Ben knew he loved Jo ? in some ways he always had. But he was worried ? did Jo truly love him or was she on the rebound?
Release date: April 24, 2014
Publisher: Accent Press
Print pages: 138
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A Full Recovery
Gill Sanderson
Kneeling in the garden wasn’t a good idea. It made her leg hurt. Stiffly, Jo Wilde climbed to her feet and felt the blood rush through the damaged limb. For a moment it hurt even more. In fact, it was hard to remember a time when her leg hadn’t hurt. Still, a complex fracture of the tibia and fibula – the two great bones of the lower leg – wasn’t easy to get over.
But that had been seven weeks ago. After her fortnight’s stay in hospital she had religiously followed all the instructions of her physiotherapist, resting when told and then working like a demon on her exercises.
She deserved to be fit again. In fact, she hardly limped at all now, and only occasionally did the pain get too bad. She was ready to start work again. Or was she? One thing was certain. Work was all that was left in her life now.
She looked at her garden with a little pride. In the June sunshine it appeared quite attractive. All her neighbours in the new little estate had worked hard on their gardens too, but she thought hers was as good as any. It was hard to remember that just three months ago they had all been wildernesses of clay and weeds.
Three months ago! Life had been different then.
Painfully, she stooped to pick up the bunch of flowers she had cut and walked back into the house. The flowers were a welcome. Her twin sister, Kate, would arrive from America in half an hour, accompanied by her new fiancé Steve. Jo was really looking forward to seeing them both, but she knew it would be a shock.
Seeing the couple so happy was certain to remind her of how happy she had been herself not so long ago. In retrospect, so much joy was bound to have an ending.
Eight weeks ago, when Jo had welcomed Kate into this house, she could remember how excited they’d both been. Kate was to have been her chief bridesmaid when she’d married Harry Russell. But Harry had jilted her. A week before the wedding he had backed out. And only Kate’s comfort and support had kept her sane.
Jo had forced herself to think about it, to accept it. If Harry hadn’t wanted to marry her, then it had been good to find out in time. But had he had to do it so cruelly? Just to disappear, with a message left for her with his friend? It had hurt her so much. The tears came to her eyes. The pain inside her was still raw.
Her leg needed exercise. She forced herself to walk round the house, finding vases for the flowers, making sure that the already tidied house was super-tidy.
But the work did no good. She couldn’t stop herself remembering. The last time Kate had returned she had been fancy-free, while Jo had been looking forward to married life. Now it was Kate who would soon get married, and she, Jo, was fancy-free. She was returning to her career as a theatre nurse. She had learned there would be no man for her ever again. It hurt too much. Yes, she had learned.
She worked as a theatre nurse for Andrew Kirk, the consultant surgeon for the neurological department. Once she had been called in on an emergency, an eighteen-year-old boy who had skidded and fallen from his motorcycle. His head had struck the edge of the pavement, causing a depressed stellate fracture of the skull. There had been cerebrospinal fluid leaking from his ears when he’d arrived in Theatre and Andrew had looked angry.
‘We’ll do what we can,’ he had told the weeping mother, ‘but quite frankly he’s in a very serious state.’ The lad had died on the table, and Andrew had been incandescent with rage.
‘He wasn’t wearing a helmet,’ he’d snarled. ‘His mother said he didn’t like them. Apparently he’s had one accident already – skull fracture again, but just a hairline one. Wearing a helmet would have saved his life. Why won’t people learn, Jo, why won’t people learn?’ Andrew hated to lose someone.
Well, she had learned. Never again. There would be no more men, no more declarations of love for her. She would stick to her career.
Kate had phoned from Las Vegas, where she’d been holidaying with Steve. Jo hadn’t heard from her for a fortnight. This had been a deliberate policy. After the love and the care Kate had shown her since Harry had left, they had both decided that it would be as well if Jo stayed at home and learned to live on her own. But it had been good to hear from her sister at last.
Kate’s voice had been cautious. ‘We didn’t want to spring this on you, big sister, but Steve and I are going to get married. I’m giving up roaming round the world. I want to settle in Kirkhelen and be a GP’s wife.’
Jo managed to congratulate her sister, and said honestly that she thought they’d be very happy together. And she was happy for Kate, but she recognised the concern in her sister’s voice.
‘You’re worried how I’ll feel about it, aren’t you?’
‘Just a bit,’ Kate admitted. ‘There must be a contrast with the last time I came home. Then you were getting married and –’
‘Kate, I’m glad you’re getting married and I think Steve is a lovely man. Now, don’t worry about me, I’ll be all right.’
‘Course I’ll worry about you. That’s what sisters are for. Now, tell me honestly, how are you?’
‘I’m good. Andrew wants me back at work next week and I’m looking forward to it. He says I’m only to scrub for short ops to start with – I can move OK but standing still for a long time makes my leg ache. But it’s getting better.’
‘I think work will be good for you. I can still live with you, can’t I?’
‘Of course you can! But when are you going to get married? Have you fixed a date yet?’
‘No date, and I don’t think it will be for a while. Plenty of time to make decisions when we come home.’
Firmly, Jo said, ‘If you’re putting off the wedding because you’re worried about my feelings, don’t bother. I’ll be so happy to see you married. Then I’ll know I’ve got you where I want you – here at home instead of wandering round the world.’
‘Could be. I must say, I’m rather looking forward to settling down. See you Saturday, then.’
It wasn’t a complete shock, Jo had wondered if something like this might happen when Steve and Kate went on holiday. But it did change things. Kate would ‘ be local, but she would be married.
Outside she heard a car draw up. There was the quick beep of the horn. She opened the front door.
Kate and Steve were hauling their bags out of the back of the car. The driver was Vanessa, Steve’s practice manager, and she gave Jo a quick wave. And as the car drew away, Jo walked forward to greet her sister – and her sister’s new fiancé.
As twins, they knew how each other might feel. Now Jo saw Kate looking at her warily, still not sure of her welcome.
‘I’m all right,’ Jo said. ‘I’m not an invalid any more. Now, come and kiss me. I’ve missed you.’
It was good to hold Kate, to feel the firm body so like her own.
Then she turned to Steve. Steve had been – for that matter, still was – Harry’s cousin. They were wildly different in character. But there was still some family resemblance – something about the body, the angle of head and neck that reminded her piercingly of her lost fiancé She would have to get used to it.
She threw her arms round him, hugged him. ‘Welcome to the family,’ she said. ‘There’s no one I would rather Kate married. I’m happy for both of you.’ And she realised this was true. ‘Come on in, the kettle’s on and I’ll make us some tea. But first let me see your ring.’
Once again she saw the doubt flash in Kate’s eyes. ‘It’s OK,’ Jo said, ‘I’ve got my old engagement ring upstairs, I’m just waiting for the chance to give it back. But I want to see yours.’
It was a lovely ring, a heart-shaped ruby with diamonds round it. But there was a twist in her heart as she thought of Harry.
‘You want to give your ring back?’ asked Steve. ‘Has Harry been in touch at all? Have you heard anything about him or from him?’
‘Nothing,’ she said flatly. ‘And that’s the way I want it. In time I’ll sell the ring if he doesn’t ask for it.’
But she felt a stab of loneliness inside her. She knew that Kate’s love for her wouldn’t diminish. But now no longer was it the two of them against the world.
Kate now had Steve to love as well.
‘Leave your bags in the hall and sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ve done some sandwiches, then perhaps you’d like a bath each. Can you stay a while, Steve?’
‘For a while. Then I’d better get back to the surgery to see how they’ve coped without me.’
‘We’ve brought you a couple of presents … ’ said Kate.
It was good to have Kate back. But now she had to get back to work herself. That Sunday night the still jet-lagged Kate went to bed quite early. Jo did the exercises to strengthen and make her leg supple, had a bath and sat quietly for a while. Tomorrow she was back in Theatre.
She wondered if her confidence had gone. But how could it? She had been a theatre nurse for many years, and knew she was generally considered to be a good one. She closed her eyes. The last major op she had scrubbed for had been the removal of a meningioma – a non-malignant tumour in the membranes that enclosed and protected the brain. She would go through it, stage by stage. Remind herself of what she did.
In the neurological theatre there had been herself, the anaesthetist, Andrew Kirk and Ben Franklin, the new senior registrar. There had also been a second nurse, the senior house officer and a couple of students. She had worked with Andrew a lot. The two of them were part of a tight team – each able to guess what the other was thinking, doing.
She hadn’t seen much of Ben Franklin, but she thought he was friendly and she knew he was competent. However, when he had joined the team, all her spare thoughts had been for her impending marriage.
In fact, she remembered that Ben had made an impression on her. Andrew was forceful, dynamic – just being with him was sometimes tiring. It was part of being one of the best neurosurgeons in the North of England. But Ben was calmer. As they had gone into the theatre Andrew had been preparing himself in his own way for the long operation. He had become curt, brusque. Ben had taken time to notice that one of the students had been nervous. He’d talked to the girl, and had managed to calm her. Afterwards he hadn’t joined Andrew and Jo for lunch, but had sat with the students and talked them through what had taken place. He was a kind, thoughtful man, she realised.
Remembering her last operation … The patient was an elderly man. He had been to his GP complaining of impaired speech and understanding. The GP had referred him to hospital. After careful examination, a computerised tomographic scan and magnetic resonance imaging – commonly known as CT and MRI scans – had shown up the cause and the site of the problem. A tumour.
The anaesthetised patient was wheeled into the operating theatre, his head already shaved. Andrew stared at the scans of the skull on the wall, then marked the area he intended to cut through.
Jo handed him a scalpel. Andrew cut through the skin to the perioseum, the thin membrane covering the skull. There was plenty of blood. They handled the suction together and used electric diathermy to seal the numerous small bleeding blood vessels.
Then Andrew carefully made a series of small burrholes in the skull and passed a soft metal guide from one hole to the next. A fine wire saw – a Gigli saw – was then passed along the channel made by die guide.
Using handles at each end of the wire, Andrew then sawed through the bone. He repeated this procedure until the flap of bone was free and could be pulled up.
The tumour was now visible, pressing down into the brain itself under the pia mater and the arachnoid membranes. Andrew cut through these, then started on the delicate job of identifying and tying off the many blood vessels supplying the tumour. Only then could the tumour be gently cut away and disposed of. Jo watched, as she had so often.
Soon the job was finished. Andrew closed, stitching back the dura mater, replacing the bone flap and securing it with a few lengths of fine wire. The incision in the skin of the skull was closed with catgut stitches.
Not once had Andrew or Ben asked her for an instrument. Whatever they needed she had known, had put in their hands. It was her job and she was good at it. Everyone said so.
So that was it. She remembered everything she did, everything that needed doing. She could do it again.
The palms of her hands were clammy, her forehead was beaded with perspiration. Her leg hurt, and she realised she had been unconsciously tensing the muscles. But, she told herself, she would be all right. And if she wasn’t, she knew that Ben would help.
Interesting, that she felt she could rely on Ben, a comparative newcomer, rather than her old friend Andrew.
She remembered Ben looking at her over his surgical mask, nothing of his face visible but those gorgeous blue eyes. All she could see was the eyes, but she knew he was smiling. She would be all right.
Tomorrow, she knew, wouldn’t be too hard. Andrew had said that they’d start with something small, an operation that didn’t go on too long. She would be all right with them. She was Jo Wilde, known as a good theatre nurse. She had better be good.
From now on it was going to be her entire life.
Jo and Kate got up early together next morning. Both were going to the hospital, Jo to work, Kate to make enquiries about a full-time job in the accident and emergency depart. . .
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