Chapter 37

"What's he doing?!" The woman screamed louder. I grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. If she did what she obviously was planning on doing, she could very well kill her husband.

I tried to avert her head so that she didn't have to watch Martin running the blade into her husband's throat.

"He's a surgeon, he knows what he's doing." I told her insistently. "It'll be fine. He's a good doctor. You can trust him."

"What do you know?" She hissed at me. "He's killing my husband!"

"No, he isn't. I'm..." I was struggling for a moment as how to describe our relationship, but the whole complicated mess would be too confusing for this woman, who had more important things on her mind, "... his partner. I know. It'll be fine."

By now Martin had made a small cut. I watched him closely and the moment he made the incision, I could see his eyes grow wide and it was obvious, at least to me, that he was fighting against his nausea. I'm not a particularly religious person, but I sent a silent prayer just in case there was some unknown recipient, praying that Martin could manage without throwing up. I really wanted to spare him the humiliation in a surrounding like this.

It was different in Portwenn. Everyone knew about his handicap since it was practically announced on the local radio, but since the excitement over the news had settled, Martin's blood phobia had been accepted for what it was – an integral part of him. For people who could accept Anthony the Squirrel as easily as the tides, haemophobia was no big deal, not even when the local doctor was concerned.

I imagined it would be a completely different affair here, where people were mainly judged by their business potential. Throwing up while saving someone's life would probably be regarded as an inexcusable slip.

Martin breathed in and out slowly, and he grew slightly pale. I sincerely hoped that I was the only one noticing it. I forced my eyes away from Martin to assess the reaction of the surrounding people, but everyone just seemed staring at the poor man's throat. At least no one looked concerned in any way.

Fortunately, the colour returned to Martin's face and it seemed that he would manage. He now took the body of the biro with admirably steady hands and pushed it into the small incision he had made. Immediately the chest of the man on the floor raised and lowered, drinking in air. Martin now removed the foil in which the bandages were packed and fixed the tube firmly with the bandage. All the while the patient kept breathing and his face colour improved by the minute.

Now Martin checked the patient's vitals and relaxed a bit. Martin breathed in deeply and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It was just then that I started to worry that Martin's self-control could falter.

Luckily, his attention was claimed again by the sound of sirens in front of the hotel.

He looked up for a moment, then bent down to his patient, who was responsive again.

"Mr. uhm…patient."

"Chilvers, our name is Chilvers." The wife next to me sobbed.

"Right." Martin cleared his throat. "Mr. Chiltern*…"

"Chilvers." The woman corrected pointedly. I slightly shook my head. For a man with such a good brain it was absolutely unbelievable that Martin couldn't remember the right name even for ten seconds.

"Right. Your laryngopharyngeal area has swollen due to an anaphylactic reaction after the bee sting in your throat, making you unable to breathe. I made an incision to introduce a tube behind the swollen area, allowing the airflow into your trachea again."

The man on the floor moved his lips slightly.

"Do not try to speak. The ambulance has just arrived. They will take you to hospital to care for you. As soon as the swelling has gone down, the tube can be removed."

The man on the floor blinked, maybe to indicate that he had understood.

"Besides, if you know you're allergic to bee stings and you feel the unnecessary urge to stuff yourself with excessive carbohydrates, don't wolf them down your throat at a speed that doesn't allow you to notice any foreign matter. Maybe next time you won't be so lucky to have a doctor at hand."

I could feel the woman in my arms tense up. I had to admit that Martin's comment hadn't been the most sensitive one. Still, Martin had just saved the life of this poor sod and only I knew how much strength it must have cost him, even when the procedure didn't involve much blood.

When I realised that the patient's wife was about to protest, I thought it would be safer to remind her on the danger her husband had been in.

"See, he's breathing fine now. I told you everything would be fine. That was a close call, you know. Without Dr. Ellingham's intervention it could have been fatal, quite easily really. Now the ambulance is coming and everything will be fine."

"But…" The woman started protesting, but I cut her short.

"Dr. Ellingham did everything that had to be done, you were really lucky that he was around. Really."

Before she could think otherwise, the doors to the restaurant flung open and two rather imposing figures stormed in, shouting "Make way!". The crowd was divided like the Red Sea and on the path that opened before us, the two paramedics approached us.

To be continued…

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* For our non-English friends, the Chiltern Hills is an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in South East England. I think Martin tends to mix up names of people with geographical names.