hospital, however, and was walking onto the ward, willowy trim in her uniform, doing her round of the patients, the morning's events—whilst not forgotten—had slipped back into second place.
Sunday afternoon on the ward was different from other days. There were more visitors, for one thing, and some brought children who, as Meg Brodie said, were a flaming nuisance, dancing all over the place.
Meg was on the ward to take clerking details of the three new patients, who were due for surgery on Tuesday. One, a young woman who was fourteen weeks' pregnant, was to undergo cervical cerclage. Her stay would be short—maybe only one night—but the two older ladies, each with troublesome fibroids, might be in till the end of the week. As always, every bed was taken and the nurses were at full stretch.
Anna was concerned about the D and C patient kept back for further surgery. She knew that Simon intended to operate during the afternoon of Monday. Miss Barton, who was forty-eight, looked after her arthritic father. She was worried about him being without her, even though the medical social worker had told her that he was having round-the-clock care.
'She thinks no one can look after him as well as herself, which is just plain daft,' Meg said, jutting her lip, and Anna couldn't help but agree.
'I just hope she won't decide to discharge herself.' She looked through the viewing window at the irresolute Angela Barton, who was talking to her elderly visitor— a schoolteacher like herself.
'I'll ask Bill to have a word with her.' Meg finished her tea. 'She's not likely to be in long, though, not more than three or four days—although I expect she'll be back for radiotherapy, depending on what Simon finds.'
In the end it was Simon who had a word with her early next morning. He found her calmer than he expected, and no longer all of a jump. She was perfectly happy, she told him, to undergo surgery but in no way.. .no way.. .would she come back for follow-up treatment. 'You do your best for me, Mr Easter; after that I'll take pot luck. I made up my mind to that at three o'clock this morning.
'No, please don't waste your valuable time—' she smiled at him over her glasses '—trying to persuade me otherwise; it won't do a scrap of good.' And she didn't exactly wave him away but there was, nevertheless, a distinct air of dismissal about her manner and the way she spoke.
He didn't look particularly pleased, either, as they turned away from the bed. 'Well, let's just hope that the tumour hasn't spread to surrounding tissues,' he said a little grimly up at the ward desk. 'The signs are that it hasn't, which is why I'm going to do a vaginal hysterectomy and save her the pain of an abdominal wound.
'Now, while I'm here—' he glanced up at the clock '—I'll check on Mrs Tooley. We need her bed, and she's due for discharge. Can you produce her notes.. .at the double, please, Sister? Right now I ought to be downstairs, getting scrubbed up.'
'Of course.' Anna got the notes from the office. Then quickly, but not at the double, she joined him at Mrs Tooley's bedside, slipping back the single sheet that covered her so that he could examine her wound. After asking one or two questions, he authorised her discharge.
'You can go home tomorrow, Mrs Tooley,' he smiled, and sat down on her bed. 'A community nurse will call to take out your stitches at the end of the week. You'll feel a lot more comfortable then, but you must take things very gently till you return here for your outpatient's appointment in six weeks' time. Sister will make an appointment for you, and give you a card.'
'Thanks ever so, sir.' Mrs Tooley's creased little face went pink with pleasure. 'My Stan'll be pleased to 'ave me back; he's missed me, bless his 'eart.'
'We'll miss you,' Simon said, dead on cue.
'I bet you say that to all the patients.' Mrs Tooley's eyes rested admiringly on his broad shoulders as he turned to go out of the ward. 'Good-lookin', 'ent he,
Sunday afternoon on the ward was different from other days. There were more visitors, for one thing, and some brought children who, as Meg Brodie said, were a flaming nuisance, dancing all over the place.
Meg was on the ward to take clerking details of the three new patients, who were due for surgery on Tuesday. One, a young woman who was fourteen weeks' pregnant, was to undergo cervical cerclage. Her stay would be short—maybe only one night—but the two older ladies, each with troublesome fibroids, might be in till the end of the week. As always, every bed was taken and the nurses were at full stretch.
Anna was concerned about the D and C patient kept back for further surgery. She knew that Simon intended to operate during the afternoon of Monday. Miss Barton, who was forty-eight, looked after her arthritic father. She was worried about him being without her, even though the medical social worker had told her that he was having round-the-clock care.
'She thinks no one can look after him as well as herself, which is just plain daft,' Meg said, jutting her lip, and Anna couldn't help but agree.
'I just hope she won't decide to discharge herself.' She looked through the viewing window at the irresolute Angela Barton, who was talking to her elderly visitor— a schoolteacher like herself.
'I'll ask Bill to have a word with her.' Meg finished her tea. 'She's not likely to be in long, though, not more than three or four days—although I expect she'll be back for radiotherapy, depending on what Simon finds.'
In the end it was Simon who had a word with her early next morning. He found her calmer than he expected, and no longer all of a jump. She was perfectly happy, she told him, to undergo surgery but in no way.. .no way.. .would she come back for follow-up treatment. 'You do your best for me, Mr Easter; after that I'll take pot luck. I made up my mind to that at three o'clock this morning.
'No, please don't waste your valuable time—' she smiled at him over her glasses '—trying to persuade me otherwise; it won't do a scrap of good.' And she didn't exactly wave him away but there was, nevertheless, a distinct air of dismissal about her manner and the way she spoke.
He didn't look particularly pleased, either, as they turned away from the bed. 'Well, let's just hope that the tumour hasn't spread to surrounding tissues,' he said a little grimly up at the ward desk. 'The signs are that it hasn't, which is why I'm going to do a vaginal hysterectomy and save her the pain of an abdominal wound.
'Now, while I'm here—' he glanced up at the clock '—I'll check on Mrs Tooley. We need her bed, and she's due for discharge. Can you produce her notes.. .at the double, please, Sister? Right now I ought to be downstairs, getting scrubbed up.'
'Of course.' Anna got the notes from the office. Then quickly, but not at the double, she joined him at Mrs Tooley's bedside, slipping back the single sheet that covered her so that he could examine her wound. After asking one or two questions, he authorised her discharge.
'You can go home tomorrow, Mrs Tooley,' he smiled, and sat down on her bed. 'A community nurse will call to take out your stitches at the end of the week. You'll feel a lot more comfortable then, but you must take things very gently till you return here for your outpatient's appointment in six weeks' time. Sister will make an appointment for you, and give you a card.'
'Thanks ever so, sir.' Mrs Tooley's creased little face went pink with pleasure. 'My Stan'll be pleased to 'ave me back; he's missed me, bless his 'eart.'
'We'll miss you,' Simon said, dead on cue.
'I bet you say that to all the patients.' Mrs Tooley's eyes rested admiringly on his broad shoulders as he turned to go out of the ward. 'Good-lookin', 'ent he,
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