The Surgeon Was a Lady Page 7
Now I have run away with myself, but coming back to the accident again... Paul was partly paralysed and had to give up most of his practice and I had to abandon mine for over a year in order to look after him. You may ask why I didn’t get a nurse at that time to assist me straight away... and why did I wait until Paul became so crippled that he had to give up all medical practice as a G.P. after two years, before I took that step. You see, at first he was able to talk and respond to most things normally and I thought that he would soon become himself again. It was only that he couldn’t walk in those days, although that was enough in itself. He could converse on most things, but our outlook... our interests were so different and he would always sink his ideas to suit my mood. He was always more considerate, if more calculating about everything... I would rush into things without much thought at all, like a bull in the china shop, you might say. I found the guilt in those early years too oppressing and I felt, if I could return to work... the work that I loved... even if just part time, that would solve the problem... but that’s a laugh, isn’t it Have you ever heard of a part-time surgeon before?
Well I thought if I could do that and perhaps work one or two days, things would be different and I might find life more acceptable again. I was just fed up, I suppose... being mother and wife and part-time lover to a man who remained a boy, for he seemed to stop growing when that crash happened. Life seemed to stand still for him after that, but he had no bitterness, no resentment of what had happened to him... only a placid acceptance, without fear or worry about tomorrow.
For me... it was different, I did grow up. I just slid along with life as it took me. I was never a timid wall-flower and had no intentions of changing my lifestyle, just because my husband gave up... and embraced his disability with open arms. I often used to think that if ever it became too much for me, I would take any steps necessary to preserve my libido; my own self-character whether by drink or drugs... or even sex.
Do I shock you Professor Sutherland, Sir? Do you want me to continue with this diary of debauchery and do you still want to find out the best way for such a character to succeed... one who thinks she knows it all and who defies anyone or anything that stands in her way to find what she considers to be... happiness.”
***
Ted Sutherland put his reading down on his desk and scratched his ear as he rang the bell for Monica to bring in his coffee, but she had already come through the door with the tray in her hand.
“One coffee, with milk and no sugar... Chocolate biscuits only,” she grinned, “And the receipt for the same...”
“Thanks love... and can you please make sure that I’m not disturbed for at least the next hour. I have some things I want to check over and I need the time.”
Monica left Ted with his coffee but she frowned as she sat down at her desk again.
It was rather unusual for him to ask her for an hour before he could see another client. Ted Sutherland was a workaholic and could cram forty eight hours into the normal man’s day.
Chapter Nine
Willie had only three operations on her list that morning. Pretty matter-of-fact stuff and she was fairly confident that she could be finished before 12.30 or 1.00 p.m. at the latest as she had arranged to meet and interview several nurses for the post of night Carer for Paul.
The interviews were to start at 2.00 p.m. and there were four in all after she had drawn up her short list. She was anxious to get home and have a shower and a light lunch before she would see any of them... a lunch which the dispensable Nurse Clements would cook, of course.
***
She finished the last suture in the young boy’s scalp and left the Theatre nurse to do the external bandage... telling her that she had put seven stitches in the lad’s head and would she make sure she recorded that number in the boy’s notes. She had previous arguments with nurses before about the number of stitches she had put in when it was time for them to be removed... particularly in the skull. Hair would grow thicker by the time the sutures were to be removed and it was difficult to find nylon sutures in thick hair at the best of times.
The little boy had been twelve years of age... a Footballer, no less and this was the consequences of his goal... “Seven stitches, nurse... yes?” she replied as she was getting out of her Theatre gown. “To come out in five days... and I don’t want any left in when the hair grows thicker... do you understand?”
“Yes doctor... I understand. Seven stitches in and I’ll make sure that seven come out.”
“Great... see you tomorrow.” she said, but there was a niggling feeling of doubt as she passed the Recovery room and thought again of Mrs. Clarkston. Her confidence had been shattered with that case, but she knew she could not allow one unfortunate incident to mar her career... no more than she could allow her many successes to go to her head. She had to be stable in her approach to life in all things she warned herself... at all cost and all times... as her Daddy would have told her...
***
She relaxed in the taxi on her way home and kicked off her shoes, looking to see that the driver hadn’t noticed, before she opened her brief case to study the short list of applicants. They all seemed to be fairly straight forward, with excellent references and experience, but one made her look twice. It was a nurse by the name of Vijayananda. She spelt it slowly and tried to pronounce it, but with difficulty and wondered if she should tear that one up and forget it... She could hardly walk through the house shouting Viya... whatever it was every time she needed her, could she, but she shoved all the notes back into her brief case and closed her eyes. It had been a fairly busy morning, despite the shorter than usual list... The second skull fracture was a right swine. Five hair line fractures in the skull and the chap had walked into the Receiving room on his own steam... That’s the good old English navvy, she thought and then corrected herself... or was he Irish... she thought again.
She arrived home about one forty-five and had a quick shower and made up her face as Clemmie prepared a snack for lunch. It was very tasty with mushroom omelette and French fried potatoes with a tossed salad and thick home made mayonnaise. Willie would never admit it, but it as very tasty indeed. Clemmie washed up the dishes and went to attend to Paul when the first applicant arrived.
“Can you show her into the study, Clemmie, please?
Clemmie looked to the ceiling. She had been up half the night with Paul who had been unwell and it would have to be at that time when she wanted to ensure that Paul could have a little nap after she gave him a cat’s lick, that Willie would call her... Clemmie had wanted Paul to sleep as long as he could and that was the reason she was so late in attending to him. His eyes smarted with soap as she tried to dry him quickly.
***
Willie sized Miss Balcomb up as soon as she came through the door and she didn’t at all like what she saw.
“You’re ten minutes late Miss Balcomb,” she stated firmly as she looked at her wrist watch.
“Ms... if you don’t mind... Not Miss... an’ ten minutes ain’t nothin’ when you think of how I had to wait in a traffic cue as long as Mallinmoss to get here... “ was the answer Willie received and she wondered where the hell was Mallinmoss...
“Ms,” Willie queried, “What do you mean... Ms?”
“Well now... I don’t like Mrs. ‘cos I’m not married and I don’t like Miss ‘cos I’ve got a babby, so I like to be called Ms... if it’s all the same to you, Mrs.”
Ms Balcomb was a matronly lady, with strong body odour which Willie suspected that Ms B. did not suspect herself... Willie imagined she came from Ireland by the accent, but she wasn’t sure... however, the lady sat cross legged, with a complacent look on her face that indicated that she was well suited for the job as night Carer and it was only a matter of time before she’d get her sleeves rolled up and get on with the job.
“But the... baby... the babby,” Willie corre
cted herself and looked askance at Ms B. “Will you be able to get him... her... it, looked after?”
“Well of course I will. I’ll look after ‘im meself... ‘Es a quiet lad and I’m a capable wuman... so where’s the difficulty?” she asked and raised her arms in the air with a smile... and Willie dived into her pocket for her handkerchief which she promptly held to her nose.
Ms B. had thirty or more years experience in nursing and had specialized in geriatric nursing. and Willie thought she must have had the babby in her menopause... but, regardless... she recorded... Ms B... in her notes and added an ‘O’ after the ‘B’... discreetly... whilst the interviewee announced with a tight lip and a firm chin that she would stand no nonsense from those in her care, even if she never ever had to put up with no shenanigans... since she had a firm hand in matters of that nature. Willie did not have to ask her anything. She volunteered all the information about herself and of course, it was all glowing.
“So you see, she said to Willie with her eyes wide and her chin stuck out,” With all my experience with the old uns. I’m sure I could look after your old man, real well and I won’t put up with any nonsense either. You can be sure of that. I keep all my patients in there place, I do... That’s what good nursin’s for...”
Willie recoiled and pulled her handkerchief from her nose momentarily, as she wondered what age the lady B. thought she herself might be, if her old man was classified as geriatric... and she envisaged Paul getting his botty well smacked when he dribbled... but she shook Ms Balcomb’s hand and told her she would be in touch. Consequently Ms B left the house smiling as Willie dropped her application into the waste paper bin and asked Clemmie to show in the next applicant... as she took a deodorant spray and squirted it around the room.
***
Mrs. Edith Warracombe was a widow and a miserable one at that. She moaned about her state in life with her eyes half closed and how she never had a chance to make anything of herself now that her Bert had passed on... but this was the time of her awakening... she could feel it in her water... she said and Willie woke her up and told her she would be in touch...
***
The third applicant did not turn up and Willie went looking for the fourth, hoping that her judgment of this one would be better than that of her last two. She went into the kitchen and had a large glass of water... no doubt due to dry mouth... she thought, but as there was no-one there when she went back into the study, she called for Clemmie.
“I’m sorry... You may be looking for me,” a voice came to her from the open French window in the study and she turned to see the figure approaching her from the garden. “Your cook told me to wait and said I could have a round of the garden... I hope that is alright?”
“Yes... yes... and who might you be?” Willie asked as she studied the tall young man standing before her in her study, wondering how on earth he got there and more to the point... what did he want?”
“My name is Vijayananda... Seyone Vijayananda,” he said softly,” and I’ve come for the interview of night nurse/Carer.”
Willie was stunned for a few seconds before she could catch her breath. So this was the one whose name she couldn’t pronounce. This one certainly wasn’t English... She looked at him again and studied his lean firm body and his dark handsome face with the tight curly hair close to his scalp... This one was no female... but a male... and what a male!
“Please sit down Miss... Ms... oh I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m a little confused this afternoon. I don’t know how to pronounce your name or how to address you,” Willie apologised.
“Oh just call me Fred... everybody else does.” he answered and she smiled. Fred didn’t sound anything like Vijay... whatever it was.”
“OK,” she said smiling. “Fred it is. Now can you tell me a little about yourself, Fred... Your nursing career I mean,” she asked but she might just as well have asked Fred to recite the telephone directory for all she heard. All she could see was this gorgeous man sitting before her smiling at her and she loved him at first sight. His hair was a mass of tight curls, very close to his head and his skin was like satin, coffee cream... smooth and sensual, with deep purple lips that were meant for kissing and she wished he would open his mouth wider so that she could see his teeth... He wore an earring in his left ear and his nostrils moved sensually as he spoke. When he stood up, he was leaner than lean... More lithe than lean and his hands were gentle when he shook hers... with well manicured nails and so on and so on... Willie stopped counting the assets as she stood back.
“When can you start, Fred?” she asked and as he smiled broadly and showed the full extent of his magnificent teeth, she knew she had made the right decision.
***
Clemmie met her in the hall as Fred was making his exit, still smiling broadly at Willie and she at him as he assured her that she would not regret taking him on and that he would do all in his power to help her out of her difficulties, to which Clemmie answered softly that she was sure he would...
“Could we have a cup of tea after all that, Clemmie, please? Oh!... and how is my darling Paul this afternoon?” she enquired and Clemmie could feel her blood boil as she stood by, feeling all this solicitude around her, where she could no nothing about it.
“He is well Madame, but he had rather a bad night. I think he would like to see you... He has been begging for you on his little finger since the beginning of the interviews,” she lied but her conscience didn’t worry her as her thoughts went back to Paul.
“Clemmie..?”
“Yes Madame?”
“Clemmie... I want you to stop calling me Madame from this moment on,” she said as she watched Fred close the garden gate as he left the house, “My name is Willie and you must call me that, O.K?” She looked at the garden gate again just as a neat little bum disappeared from her sight.
“But Madame...”
“But nothing Clemmie... It is Willie from now on...” she commanded with a firm look in her eye... “Understood?”
“Yes Mada... yes Willie... and will you go in and see your husband now please and I’ll bring you that cup of tea.”
“Make it for all of us Clemmie. You must come and join us,” she said sweetly and Clemmie frowned...
***
Fred turned up for duty the following morning in pink trousers, with a jacket where one sleeve was purple and the other black, but Paul thought he was wonderful, where Clemmie thought he was a lovable clown and Willie... well Willie just pined for the moment she could take him to bed.
Chapter Ten
“Good morning... Oh! I’m not speaking to Doctor Fehrenbach, am I? “
Clemmie changed the ear piece to her best ear.
“No Sir... but if you mean, Doctor Mrs. Fehrenbach, she has left here about an hour ago. She should be at the hospital by now. Can I take a message?”
“Well... Can you tell me when she might be back?”
“I’m afraid I can’t, Sir. Doctor Fehrenbach’s work sometimes takes her longer that she expects and she gets home whenever she can.”
“Oh! I see.”
“I can take a message for her if you wish, Sir.”
“No... no that’ll be alright. I won’t phone the hospital if she’s busy, but I may ring again later today.”
“Yes Sir.”
Clemmie waited for anything more the caller might say and she was more than surprised when he did.
“Excuse me asking... but are you Mr. Fehrenbach’s nurse, by any chance?” the caller enquired and Clemmie frowned as she listened to the question, before she answered and for some reason, she was hesitant.
“Yes, I am Sir. May I enquire why you ask that question?”
“Not at all, but first of all, will you tell Mrs. Fehrenbach that Ted phoned. She’ll know who I am... OK?”
“Yes Sir. Good-bye Sir.”
“Good-bye Nurse... oh and nurse?”
“Yes Sir?”
“You want an answer to my question... yes? Well, you’re doing a great job. Keep it up.”
Clemmie was taken aback and was about to thank the caller when he rang off.
***
“Can I have a slice of that lovely golden toast before I hit the sack?”
Clemmie looked at Fred under her eyelids and smiled as he folded a piece of toast and stuck it in his mouth. It disappeared in seconds.
“Mmhhh, dat was delicious,” he said and rolled his eyes as he smacked his lips.
“It’s not toast, you silly. We only eat toast for breakfast... Its cake,” Clemmie enlightened him as she cut another slice. “Why do you talk like that Fred, when you have such a nice English accent?”
“Like what, Clemmie?”
Clemmie wiped her hands on her apron.
“Like... well saying “dat” for that and that’s not the way you speak ordinarily. It spoils you when you talk like that.”
Fred waited for a moment before he spoke.
“Oh I fool around. My old gran-pappy used to talk a bit like that you know and we got on so well together... that well, I just imitate him without thinking... when I’m happy.”
“Was your gran-pappy from... Where is it you come from Fred?”
He rolled his eyes again and spread his hands.
“Oh now... Dat would be tellin’ now... Wouldn’ it just, Missy Clemmie.”
Clemmie laughed and slapped him on the shoulder,
“You shouldn’t be here Fred... You should be on the stage.”
“Funny you should say that Clemmie... My old gran-pappy... now he was on the stage. Well, sort of like... He used to tap dance and sing and all the kids from miles around used to come to see him... Never got paid for it though... poor ole man. He was from Sri-Lanka, you know... my daddy too... Used to be called Ceylon. Did you know that?”