"Doctor, emergency up on the York road. Car's rolled down an embankment."
"Thanks Lizzie." He sighed, rising from the chair he'd just collapsed onto and handed his freshly made tea to Jeff who walked in at that moment. He silently cursed Jeff for not coming a second earlier.
He sighed again as he made his way out to the car park and his car. The York road was on top of the moors. The wind had picked up since he'd been inside the hospital, so it would most likely be even stronger up in the unsheltered expanse of moorland.
He climbed into his Zepher and began the long drive to the crash site, passed shortly after he began by Frankie and Steve in the ambulance with the familiar chimes ringing out, preceding its passage. He knew the route well, and it was thankfully free of holdups, allowing him to reflect on his lunchtime.
He'd enjoyed it, very much so, as he did with every time spent with his wife. They'd talked, teased, joked, laughed, even flirted. She seemed a lot happier, but she still wasn't as normal, especially when he'd first arrived, she'd seemed flustered. When he'd left she clung to him, whining about not wanting him to go, but grinning, making a joke out of it. Still, he couldn't help but detect a hint of desperation in her voice, and in her slightly-too-tight grip.
He'd debated about whether to question her, perhaps get her to open up. But he had to get back to work, he didn't want his only chance of getting her to bear her emotions to him to be interrupted by him having to dash off. It worried him, knowing she was going through some inner torment, and despite the fact he was there for her, to some extent, she was dealing with it alone.
He turned onto York road, seeing the ambulance, pander cars and fire engine up ahead. He turned his thoughts to the present, forcing himself to concentrate on the accident instead of on his wife, and pulled up behind the other vehicles.
He collected his doctor's bag from the passenger seat, climbed out his car and made his way to the edge of the road. The sight that met his eyes made him halt and his stomach drop.
Gordon couldn't move. He just kept staring at the accident site. The car laying at the bottom of the embankment was on its wheels but its roof had caved in, a graphic result of its roll down the slope. The windows were all smashed, glass littering the area. The frames supporting the roof had bent and buckled, the bonnet crumpled, and doors dented and the boot lid clean off. The whole car was a wreck, a seemingly impossibly twisted mess of metal. But what was even worse was that even at the distance Gordon stood, at least five or six meters away, he could see the unmistakable red liquid splattered, standing out starkly against the pale coloured paintwork; blood.
"Doctor!"
Gordon suddenly sprang into action on hearing his name. His slithered down the embankment, sliding to a stop at the bottom in front of PC Bellamy. "What happened?" His mind was now fully focused on medical matters, forcing his own emotions to be hidden until after everything was over. His first priority was to establish exactly what the situation was.
"There's only one casualty as far as I can see, a woman. She's been unconscious all the time I've been here. Some walkers saw the car and phoned from the box a mile or so down there. She's been here at least an hour. My guess is she took the corner too fast and lost control. This stretch is notorious for accidents as you know."
Gordon nodded, processing this information, and rapidly fired out another question. "What's the best way to her?"
"The driver's door is bent, jammed shut, but the fire crew are working to remove it now. I got in through the passenger door."
"Tell them to stop, don't touch the car until I've assessed her!" He was already jogging toward the wreck as he bellowed this to Phil. He heard the constable relay his order to the fire crew as he climbed inside the car, gingerly so as not to make it move, but quickly; even before beginning his primary survey, Gordon could see the situation did not look good, far from it.
"Hello, I'm Doctor Ormerod. Can you hear me?"
No response.
"Open your eyes."
No response.
Gordon firmly tapped the casualty on the shoulders. Still no response.
He shifted his position, allowing him to move closer to the woman. "I'm just going to check you over." He said as he moved his hands to the back of her neck. Once he was satisfied no bones were broken, he tipped her head back slightly and moved his head to her mouth, relieved to feel soft breaths hitting his cheek.
"Anything I can do doc?" Frankie crouched on the driver's side, looking over at Gordon as he sat in the passenger's seat.
"Yes, keep her airway open. Keep checking her breathing and her pulse."
As Frankie did so, he spoke again. "Doc, there's some bruising here, he indicated the woman's temple.
Gordon retrieved his torch and lifted the woman's eyelids, shining the beam of light in each. "Pupils reactive and equal. Good." He then proceeded to continue his examination, working methodically but speedily, on autopilot but at the same time giving his full attention to the task. "Damn."
"Doc?"
"Paradoxical movement of the chest." He indicated her right side. "It looks like she has a flail chest."
Frankie said nothing, just looked with concern upon the woman neither knew anything about.
"Okay, she has internal bleeding, possible ruptured spleen. She's in shock. She needs to be kept warm and moved very carefully."
Frankie nodded. "Steve!"
Immediately the other ambulance driver rushed over, and Gordon moved out the way as they expertly manoeuvred the woman onto a stretcher, and kept her warm with a blanket. Gordon then came over and attached a saline drip, holding it aloft alongside the casualty as the ambulance drivers carried her into the ambulance.
The whole rescue was carried out with ease and precision, each knowing their own job, carrying it out separately but working together. It part of what made The Royal such a good team, Gordon thought as he moved to take another set of observations, inside the ambulance speeding its way to the hospital.