Hello! So I've had the idea for this for ages, but due to my exams I haven't had the chance to write it until now! Firstly, a quick announcement-
This fic is dedicated to anyone and everyone who is battling cancer and other terminal diseases, or anyone who has lost anyone to these cruel monsters. I've lost my grandma, then nearly two aunts to cancer so I know first hand what it does to people and how it affects them.
Secondly, if you spot any medical-y mistakes in this please do let me know! I've done my research but I'm no doctor xD
I hope you all enjoy and reviews would be very lovely! -Sophie x
It was the beginning of summer, a time of blue skies, warm days and lazy evenings. The pace of life seemed to slow down almost immediately as the heat shone over the city, gracing everything it met with a gentle glow and bringing peace and serenity for a few short months.
To everywhere but Holby's emergency department, that is.
No that seemed to stay untouched. Whatever the weather, the staff force always seemed rushed off of their feet, dashing here and there amongst a crowd of walking wounded.
Connie Beauchamp was no exception. Being clinical lead of that particular ED was no mean feat, and she spent many nights in the on call room due to the sheer amount of paperwork she was landed with. It had now become a permanent feature of her office that never seemed to decrease in size, just shift ever so slightly around the room.
This is where she sat, on the first day of the first week of summer, up to her ears in reports and with a phone that seemed to constantly ring. Sighing, she put her pen down and sat back, rubbing her forehead where a pain had begun to throb. She'd been getting them a lot recently, but she put that down to the amount of rowdy children that ended up in her care each day, most with broken wrists or ankles from their summer adventures. Many were little terrors, but she occasionally got one or two that were very well behaved, and made her day just that tiny bit better.
There was a harsh knock at the door, and she jumped, jolted from her thoughts.
"Come in." She called, and looked up to find Robyn beaming down at her.
"There's an RTC on its way, ETA 4 minutes. Charlie said he needs you on it."
"Why, where's Dylan?" Connie frowned but the ginger haired nurse just shrugged.
"Something about Dervla's doggy day care I think, I don't know he just took the rest of the day off."
The brunette rolled her eyes and got to her feet, pulling her stethoscope from under a stack of papers.
"Doggy day care, ridiculous…" She muttered, following Robyn out of the door and out into reception. Whilst she waited for Dixie and Ian to arrive, she felt her headache grow slowly worse until it was like someone was repeatedly stabbing her with a red hot needle. Unfortunately Zoe had called in sick and Rita was on a training day, so she had to work whether she was on her death bed or not.
The familiar slam of the ambulance doors made its way into the department, quickly followed by Dixie and Ian with separate trolleys. Charlie had met them outside and was listening to Dixie reel off the obs for an elderly man, so Connie joined the male ambulance diver as he explained the patient's situation. It was and elderly woman who was gripping onto the trolley for dear life, and her breathing beneath the oxygen mask was raspy.
"This is Judith Keels, 73, passenger of the RTC and wife of Alan who was the driver. KO'd at the scene but regained consciousness en ruote." He started, and the clinical lead nodded as he reeled of her blood pressure and stats before parking her in Bay 3. The woman was still conscious and looked around with wide-eyed terror. She struggled to move the oxygen mask from her mouth but Connie stopped her, placing a gentle hand on her arm.
"Leave that on for me please Mrs Keels, it'll help with your breathing. I'm Mrs Beauchamp, clinical lead, and I'm going to be treating you today. Now, just nod or shake your head for me- do you know where you are?"
Judith nodded, still looking round.
"Ok, and does anywhere else hurt apart from your chest?"
With a shaky hand, the woman gestured to her head. Then, ignoring the brunette's advice, she removed the oxygen mask.
"Alan," She rasped, "where's Alan…"
"Your husband's in the bay next door Mrs Keels, he's in safe hands." Connie glanced through the glass and into the smaller resus. Charlie was already at work examining his leg, which was severely damaged when the collision happened. She bit her lip.
"When you're both stable I'll take you to see him. For now I'm going to check your chest and head then get one of my nursing team to take your obs and bloods, ok?"
"Ok." Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she put the mask back on and took some deep breaths. After a quick examination, Connie confirmed the woman had bad concussion and a minor chest injury. She pulled off her rubber gloves and noted her diagnosis down on the clipboard at the end of Judith's bed.
"Mrs Keels you have quite bad concussion which explains the head pain, and something called a pulmonary contusion, a fancy phrase for a bruised lung. With lots of rest you should be back to normal in a few weeks." The brunette smiled and the elderly woman nodded.
"Thank you, Mrs Beauchamp."
"Now I'm going to hand you over to our head nurse Tess Bateman, she'll be here in a minute to introduce herself. I'll be back in half an hour."
The woman nodded again and Connie left, wincing as the pain in her head grew worse.
"You alright?"
She registered Tess in front of her looking concerned, and dismissed her quickly.
"I'm fine thank you, nothing two paracetamol can't handle. Mrs Keels is waiting for you."
"But you-" Tess protested, but Connie turned on her heel and walked off in the direction of her office. The searing pain had turned into a deep throb; she couldn't get those two little tablets down her neck fast enough.