Part One Hundred And Eighty
George had been worried about Jo all week. She knew Jo was drinking too much and that she was also doing her best to hide it. The stress of the Barbara Hunt trial, which had brought back so many difficult memories for Jo, plus her, George's own battle with breast cancer. It had obviously all been getting on top of Jo for some time, and Jo being Jo, had concerned herself with everyone else and not told anyone how she was feeling. It was in the middle of Friday evening, and John was away at the annual European Human Rights conference, this year in Milan. Jo had been quieter than usual this week, and John hadn't wanted to leave her. He'd even gone as far as to ask George to keep an eye on Jo, both of them discussing the possible reason behind Jo's obvious depression. Picking up the phone, George dialed Jo's number, but got no answer. It's a curious phenomenon that with people we know and love, we can always tell whether they really are not at home, or whether they're simply allowing the answering machine to take their calls. "Jo, pick up, it's George," She said, but with no response. But somehow she knew, she knew that Jo was there and simply not answering, and this frightened her. She couldn't explain it, but some feeling, some instinct told her that Jo was in trouble. Without a second thought, she left the house and drove as swiftly as possible across London to where Jo lived. When she arrived, she knew she'd been right. Jo's car was still in the drive where it belonged, and there was a light on in the front room. When Jo came to the door, she looked relatively normal, but George couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong. They sat, one at each end of the sofa, talking for a while, but Jo's responses were barely more than monosyllabic. She also looked tired, which though at the end of a working week wasn't abnormal, it was somehow different. When Jo's eyes looked on the point of closing, George felt a chill of suspicion run the length of her spine. Wanting to choose her words carefully though failing spectacularly, she said, "Jo, are you on something?" A ghost of a smile crossed Jo's face. "Not in the way you think," She replied slightly drowsily, "No." You're lying to me," Said George, a look of horrified realisation crossing her face. "Tell me what you've taken," She said firmly, a note of fear creeping in to her voice. Doing her utmost to focus her blurred gaze on George's face, Jo said, "I'm sorry, George." "No," Replied George, angry tears now streaming down her face, "This isn't going to happen. Are you listening to me? I don't know what the hell you've done to yourself, but it isn't going any further. Do I make myself clear?" "There's absolutely nothing you can do about it," Said Jo quietly. "Oh, we'll see, shall we," Said George, getting up from the sofa and making for the phone.
Karen was sat in her office with Thomas, arguing over the fact that he needed more money for Larkhall's medical wing, and Karen was doing her best to explain that she couldn't allocate him any more in the budget. "But in spite of the insistence that we come up to NHS standards," Thomas was saying, "We just can't put that in to practice because of a lack of resources. It's pathetic. These women are human beings, not animals to be allowed to die when they've outlived their usefulness." "I know, I know," Said Karen, "I totally agree with you, but my hands are tied." She was about to follow up her response, when the phone rang. "Karen Betts?" She said, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. But this call was as far from the norm as any call could have been. "Karen, it's George. I need help." "George, what's happened?" Asked Karen, knowing instinctively that this was bad. "I'm with Jo, and I'm pretty sure she's taken an overdose." "What?" Said Karen in shock. "When?" "I don't know." "You need to get her to a hospital," Said Karen without a second thought. "I can't," Said George. "That's the last thing I should do." "George, I've got Thomas Waugh here. I'm going to put you on speaker phone so you can talk to both of us." Thomas stood up and moved round the desk to stand next to Karen's chair. "George, this is Thomas Waugh, tell me what's happened." As George filled him in on the bare essentials of what she knew, Thomas grabbed a pen and paper from Karen's desk and began writing quickly. "Do you have any idea what she's taken?" He asked. "No," Replied George, "But it's almost certainly been combined with alcohol." "Does Jo have a problem with alcohol?" "Yes." "Describe her symptoms to me." "Drowsy, monosyllabic answers, glazed eyes. But I can't take her to hospital." "I quite agree," Said Thomas. "As a doctor, I ought to be urging you otherwise, but a section wouldn't do much for a QC's reputation, and if you take her anywhere near a hospital, a section is exactly what she'll get. Now," He continued, ignoring George's aghast silence. "I'm on call here tonight, so I can't directly help you, but Karen hasn't kept up her nurse's training for nothing. I'll give her everything she needs, but you're going to need some help. Jo is going to either have to be persuaded to move, or to be forced to move. You're quite small if I remember rightly, and even with Karen's help you're not going to manage it." "I'll bring Yvonne," Said Karen, hoping she could live up to Thomas' faith in her. "How long will you be?" Asked George. "She's still fairly conscious, but I'm not sure how long it'll last." "Twenty minutes at the most," Said Karen. "And don't worry, we'll do our best, I promise."
After quickly phoning Yvonne to put her in the picture and to tell her to pick her up outside the prison, Karen ran down to the medical wing where she found Thomas rifling through the contents of the drugs cupboard. Looking over his shoulder just to make sure it was her, he said, "You know what to do for an overdose?" "If she was in hospital, she'd get her stomach pumped," Replied Karen. "And as that's not an option?" He said, testing the extent of her knowledge. "Make her vomit," Said Karen succinctly. "And you'd use what to make someone vomit?" "Vinegar?" "No, not quick enough, and it's useless if she's insisting on being unco-operative." He waved a labeled, prepacked syringe under her nose before putting it in the empty first aid box he was filling for her. "This little wonder, is a drug called Apomorphine. Given intravenously, it jerks the vomit centre of the brain in to action, and be warned, it's effect is almost instantaneous." "But what if too much of whatever she's taken has already gone passed the stomach?" "Well done," Said Thomas approvingly. "But that all depends on exactly what she's taken. I've included a prepacked syringe of Naloxone, just in case we're dealing with anything opiate-based such as Heroin, though I think if we were, she'd be already dead. If, as I suspect, this is a combination of alcohol and sleeping pills, then I've put in an absolute last resort." He picked another labelled and packaged syringe out of the box. "This is Fruazenil, which is an antiagent to some Benzodiazepines, but works best on Temazepam. Don't, I repeat don't, use this without talking to me first. It's got some fairly nasty possible side effects and needs careful monitoring. Lastly, for when you think you've got everything out of her system, I've put in a couple of syringes of Cyclozine, which you'll remember from your days of nursing is an antisickness drug. If she's got an alcohol problem, you don't want a ruptured ulcer on your hands. However, if you've given her all the emetic, and you still think there's still some residual effects of the drug in her system, you've got a bag of saline to boost her fluids and wash it out that way. Also in there," He tapped the box, "Is a stethoscope, because you need to keep an eye on her heart rate and a look out for arrhythmias, which might mean we're in trouble. There's also plenty of needles, syringes, a penlight for assessing her Glasgow Coma Score, which you must do every fifteen minutes, and some other bits and pieces. We don't yet know if there are any cuts to deal with. Lastly, to cover both our backs, it is absolutely vital..." "To keep a record of everything I do," Answered Karen, "Plus one of her fifteen minute obs, including GCS, heart rate and other vital signs." "I'm sorry," Said Thomas, "I don't need to tell you that, do I." "Are you sure I can do this?" Asked Karen, in a sudden moment of nervousness. "Of course you can," He said firmly. "Besides, you're all she's got who can do this."
When Karen let herself out of the main gate, Yvonne was waiting for her in the Ferrari. As Karen dropped in to the passenger seat clutching the first aid box, Yvonne said, "You'll need more than that by the sounds of it." "You haven't seen what's in it yet," Replied Karen. "Half the hospital wing's drugs cupboard with too many things I haven't used since my last refresher course." "What the bleedin' hell made her do it?" Asked Yvonne, swiftly moving the car through the blessedly quiet streets. "I don't know," Said Karen regretfully. "John came to see me a while ago, and told me about her drinking problem, which I would never have suspected. He said he thought it was getting worse, which I suppose is why he told me in the first place. But I told you that last Sunday." Karen suddenly realised she was rambling. The terror at what she was about to attempt was getting to her, and she hadn't even started yet. "It's going to take us at least five minutes to get there, if not longer," Said Yvonne gently. "So have a fag, calm down and get your head round this. God knows how, but somehow, we've got to save someone's life. Not quite what I had planned for a Friday night, but there you are." Taking Yvonne at her word, Karen lit a cigarette and said, "I'm impressed. You're being matter-of-fact about this, and I'm the one who's supposed to be calm in a crisis." Taking one hand off the wheel, Yvonne gently rubbed Karen's knee. "Being inside, sometimes means that you have to deal with people either feeling like offing themselves, or with people actually doing it. I don't guess you ever knew Monica Lindsay, I didn't know her for long, but the night before her appeal, she ODed on a load of barbiturates she'd managed to buy with phone cards. Nikki figured out what was going on and her and the Julies made Monica throw up by feeding her cold coffee." "Well, I've hopefully got something a little more sophisticated than cold coffee in here." "We will get through this," Said Yvonne gently but firmly. "I hope so," Said Karen darkly, "Because if we don't, neither John nor George will ever forgive me."
When they drew up outside Jo's house, George opened the door and said, "I'm glad you're here. Jo's given up talking to me." Karen could feel the nervous tension coming off George in waves. Laying a hand briefly against George's cheek, Karen said, "For a start, calm down. We'll sort her out." "I'm not going to ask what's in there," Said George, eyeing the first aid box warily. "You'll find out soon enough," Replied Yvonne as they walked in to the lounge. Jo was slumped in a corner of the sofa, with her eyes closed, for all the world looking as if she were simply asleep. Putting the first aid box down on the coffee table, Karen sat down next to Jo and gently took her hand. "Jo, it's Karen," She said, sounding calm, assured and above all in control. When Jo made no response, Karen said, "Jo, I need you to look at me. Can you do that for me?" Slowly, Jo opened her eyes, and swivelled her gaze in Karen's general direction. A brief look of recognition had passed across her face, but she hadn't said anything. Retrieving the penlight from the box, and constantly talking to Jo, telling her what she was about to do, Karen shone the light in to Jo's eyes, and afterwards wrote the words, "Pupils enlarged and dilated", in the notebook Thomas had put on top of the other contents of the box. She also noted the time, and wrote: GCS 10, E3, V1 though possibly due to emotional shock, and after asking Jo to squeeze her hand, she wrote M6. These three categories indicated Jo's eye, verbal and motor responses. Rifling through the box, Karen drew out the stethoscope. "Jo, I really need to know what you've taken. Can you tell me?" Jo didn't verbally respond, she didn't even shake her head, but the look she gave Karen compelled her not to ask again. "Can you at least tell me if it's legal or illegal?" "Legal, I hope," Said George hurriedly. Karen turned to Yvonne. "I need the packet of whatever Jo's taken to be found, now. Will you see what you can do?" "I know Jo and this flat better than you do," Said George, trying to find something she could do. "You ever done a cell spin?" Asked Yvonne conversationally. At George's wide-eyed stare, Karen said, "If it's still here to be found, Yvonne will find it." Then, turning back to Jo, she said, "I need to listen to your heart, because whatever you've taken could make your heart either slow down or speed up too much." Warming the diaphragm of the stethoscope between her hands before she moved slightly closer to Jo, Karen really began to wonder if she could pull this off. Gently undoing the top button of Jo's blouse, she held the end of the stethoscope against Jo's skin. Keeping one eye on her watch, and one eye on Jo, Karen waited the recommended fifteen seconds to take Jo's pulse. She wouldn't normally have used a stethoscope simply to take someone's pulse, but as she had been asked to listen to Jo's heart, this way was as good as any. Doing some rapid calculation, Karen thought she couldn't possibly be right. She waited another full minute before concluding that yes, she had been right, and that Jo's pulse really was as slow as forty eight beats per minute. Removing the stethoscope and doing Jo's button back up, Karen said, "George, can you pass me the phone?" George had been watching Karen with a sort of sick fascination. But Karen's request seemed to bring her out of her thoughts. "Why? What is it? What's wrong with her?" "If you pass me the phone," Karen said evenly. "I can get some advice, and hopefully sort it out." "I'm sorry," Said George, handing over the cordless. "Don't be," Said Karen with a small smile. When she got through to Thomas, she didn't beat around the bush. "Thomas, it's Karen. Jo's initial GCS is ten, e3v1m6, and I think the lack of verbal response is down to emotional shock more than anything else. But that's not the problem. Jo is seriously bradycardic, pulse 48 and I think I can hear some slight arrhythmias." "Do you know what she's taken yet?" Thomas asked. "No," Said Karen, and then looked up as Yvonne returned and handed her an empty tablet bottle and a prescription. "I spoke too soon," Said Karen. "Definitely Temazepam, and definitely mixed with alcohol. The bottle contained thirty tablets and the prescription is dated the day before yesterday. So, we can assume Jo's taken all of them." Karen put the bottle and the prescription down on the table. "At least that's relatively simple to deal with," Said Thomas. "But you need to get the bradycardia under control first. It can't be allowed to get much lower. Any less than forty beats per minute and you're courting full heart block. In the box, you'll find a couple of syringes of Atropine, which is what we use to transport Adrenalin these days. You need to put an Intra-venous line in, and get either George or Yvonne to depress the syringe plunger whilst you listen to Jo's heart. Get whoever does it to do it extremely slowly, and when her pulse rate is up to something between seventy or eighty, stop. Remember that too much Adrenalin can be as harmful as too little." After ending the call, Karen again began rifling through the first aid box, searching for the Atropine, plus alcohol wipes and a 14G canula. "What are you doing?" Asked George, feeling utterly useless. "Jo," Karen replied, instead of to George directly. "I need to put a needle in your arm, but I need you to be somewhere where you can lie down. Is that okay?" Jo simply looked at her, she hadn't taken her eyes off Karen since they'd arrived. "George, can you bring the box and lead the way?" Asked Karen, and she and Yvonne gently helped Jo to her feet, and supported her as they walked to her bedroom.
Once there, George put the box down on the dressing-table and said, "Should she be undressed for this?" "Yes," Replied Karen, as she and Yvonne helped Jo sit down on the edge of the bed. "See if you can find something warm and comfortable, and that can easily go in the wash afterwards." Then, turning to Jo she said, "Jo, can you get undressed for me? Or do you want Yvonne to help you." There was absolutely no reaction from Jo, she didn't even appear to be looking in Karen's direction any more. "Why isn't she reacting to you?" Asked George, her voice higher with unsuppressed fear. "It's all right," Said Karen, still in the calm, reassuring tone that hadn't left her since she'd arrived. "Jo doesn't like what we're doing to her, so she's hiding. But you're still very much with us, aren't you, Jo," she added, though still not getting any response. Then, looking over at George she said, "And please remember that Jo can still hear every word you're saying. So, if you don't want Jo to hear it, then please don't say it." Feeling more useless by the minute, George handed Yvonne a soft, blue, long-sleeved nightdress. Karen and Yvonne between them quickly and deftly removed Jo's clothes, and drew the nightie down over her head. They helped Jo in to bed, and Karen drew the duvet over most of her to keep her warm, but leaving her chest and one arm exposed. Then, picking up one of the alcohol wipes, she removed it from its packet and took Jo's left hand. "Jo, can you make a fist for me?" Still without speaking or looking at her, Jo obliged and, after briefly sterilising the skin on the back of Jo's hand, Karen reached for a pair of surgical gloves. "Any blood nasties I should know about?" She asked. "No, not that I'm aware of," Replied George, knowing Karen had to ask though hating it all the same. Karen began palpating the skin on the back of Jo's hand, searching for the vein situated where the hand joins on to the wrist. On finding it, she reached for the canula and unwrapped it. She didn't warn Jo of the sharp scratch that was coming, because she wanted to observe Jo's response to pain. Jo's eyes briefly opened at the sensation of the needle piercing her skin, but then immediately closed again. After asking Jo to squeeze her hand again, Karen said, "George, I need you to scribe for me. Find the notebook in the box, and write down the time, followed by GCS9, E2V1M6." George did as she was asked. Karen listened to Jo's heart again, asking George to write down the pulse rate which was thankfully still 48, and hadn't yet sunk any lower. Karen put a piece of surgical tape over the needle to keep it in place, leaving the capped end still closed, but ready for use. Walking over to the dressing-table, Karen began digging through the box. "What are you looking for?" Asked George. "Atropine," Replied Karen. "We need to get Jo's heart beating a little bit faster." This was an enormous understatement, but Karen wasn't about to frighten George any more than she already was. Her own fears she could deal with, but right now, anyone else's were the last thing she needed. Finally coming across the syringe labelled Atropine, she turned and faced the other two women who were watching her, half in respect, half in fear, though Yvonne was far better at hiding this than George. "Have either of you ever given an injection before?" George immediately shook her head. "Yeah, a very long time ago," Yvonne eventually replied. Giving her a very sharp look, Karen said, "Good, because I need this to be administered incredibly slowly and carefully while I listen to Jo's chest, and I can't do both at the same time." Removing the syringe from its sterile packet, Karen moved back to Jo's side. She said, "Jo, we're going to give you some Atropine, to try and speed your heart up a bit. The tablets you've taken have slowed it down a bit too much." After fitting the syringe to the canula in Jo's arm, she gestured Yvonne to come closer. "When I tell you," Karen began, "I need you to depress the plunger very, very slowly, a bit at a time while I listen to Jo's chest." Yvonne was as good as her word. As Karen stood with the stethoscope against Jo's chest, Yvonne very gradually allowed the lifesaving force of adrenalin to flow in to Jo's bloodstream. When Karen was satisfied that the arrhythmias had stopped, and that she was hearing a strong, steady beat, she gestured to Yvonne to stop and listened for a further fifteen seconds. "Good," She finally announced, removing the stethoscope and detaching the syringe. "George, write down pulse 78 after 2MG's of Atropine." When George looked up after writing this down, she caught a brief second of sheer, unguarded relief on Karen's face, and realised just how close they'd been to losing Jo altogether.
"Right," Said Karen, perching on the edge of the bed so that she could have Jo's full attention. "The only way to get this out of your system is to make you throw up. It isn't going to be nice, and you're probably going to hate me for doing it, but that's what I've got to do. All it will take is a simple injection. So, first we'll get you comfortable and then I'll give it to you." Gently, Karen helped Jo out of bed, and both she and Yvonne supported her as they walked over to the bathroom. Once they'd persuaded Jo in to sitting comfortably on the floor, with Yvonne kneeling behind and with her arms round her for support, Karen went back in to the bedroom and once again began digging around in the first aid box. Both she and George could hear Yvonne talking to Jo, about what, neither of them could have said, but it sounded calm and reassuring. As Karen retrieved a prepacked syringe, George asked, "What are you giving her?" "It's called Apomorphine," Said Karen, rapidly reading the instructions on the packet. "And it can go in via the needle that's already in her arm." Looking up, she could see that George looked almost as done in as Jo did. Briefly resting a hand on George's shoulder, she said, "I hope you're ready for this, because it's going to look far worse than it actually is." "I just wish I knew why she'd done this," Said George, the despair clear in her tone. "Now really isn't the time for that," Karen admonished gently. "Questions come tomorrow, because believe me, you won't be the only one asking them."
As Karen walked in to the bathroom, Jo's gaze turned to focus on her. "That adrenaline's woken you up a bit, hasn't it," Said Karen almost cheerfully. Kneeling down next to Jo, Karen swiftly fitted the syringe to the canula and injected the emetic. It only took a minute or so for it to work. When Jo gulped, Yvonne reacted like lightening and moved her head in the direction of the toilet. Thomas had been right, thought Karen ruefully, the effect of the drug was almost instantaneous. Yvonne held on to Jo as she threw up and up and up, constantly reassuring her, and intermittently wiping her face with a cool, damp cloth. "It's all right, it's perfectly normal," Karen said to George, taking in the look of horror on her face. They were both stood in the bathroom doorway, Karen for the moment having been usurped by Yvonne's equally calming presence. But George was experiencing a flash of memory, right back to that time, nearly three years ago now, when Jo had forced her to eat and then had to watch her reject it. Karen kept a strict eye on her watch, and assessed Jo's vital signs every fifteen minutes without fail. About three-quarters of an hour later, when Karen thought there couldn't possibly be anything left in Jo's stomach, Jo finally spoke. "Why won't you just let me die?" She said, the tears now streaming down her face at her utter humiliation. "Because too many people love you, you silly cow," Said Yvonne fondly. Relieved that Jo was finally beginning to come out of hiding, Karen immediately noted the change in Jo's verbal response from one, which meant none at all, to five, which meant alert. This was a vast improvement on her previous count. She looked up at George, who could hardly believe what she'd just heard from Jo. "I couldn't have put that better myself," Said Karen dryly. Going back in to the bathroom, and seeing that Jo was still spasmodically retching, though with no obvious result, meaning that her stomach was now empty, Karen called to George over her shoulder. "George, can you find me a syringe labelled Cyclozine?" When George appeared holding the requested item, she said, "It says IM. What does that mean?" "Intra-muscular," Said Karen, taking it from her and opening the packet. "I'm sorry, Jo, but this has to go in the top of your thigh." Jo looked like she really couldn't give a damn, as long as she could stop trying to throw up. Once the antisickness drug had taken over, Jo leaned exhaustedly against Yvonne. As they gently helped her to get to her feet, and Yvonne supported her as she splashed cold water on her face, Karen began thinking that she really didn't like the look of Jo's skin. She knew she was right, because Jo stumbled as they were helping her back to bed. Quickly, both Karen's and Yvonne's arms were round her, and they managed to get her to lie down. As Karen put a hand to Jo's face, she could feel that her skin was cold and clammy, and that her pulse, far from being too slow, was now racing. "Jo, can you hear me?" Karen asked, seeing that her eyes were closed again. Jo mumbled, but she was clearly not as alert as she had been minutes ago. Grabbing a fresh needle from the box, she furiously unwrapped it and gently pricked Jo's finger. This brought reactions from eyes, voice and hands, which Karen was heartily grateful for. But she still wasn't happy. Something was wrong.
"George, get me the phone, now," Said Karen, in a voice not to be messed with and that Yvonne knew only too well. It must have had a similar effect on George, because in a moment, she was back with the cordless phone.
"Thomas, it's Karen," She said when she got through to him. She switched the phone on to hands free in case he needed her to do anything whilst she was talking to him. "How's it going?" Thomas asked. "Not brilliantly," Karen replied succinctly. "I gave her the Apomorphine, and that's worked fine. We even got a verbal response out of her without asking for it. But something's wrong. Her skin's cold and clammy, she's got a GCS of 8, E2, V2 and M4, and pulse 130. She can't have had a reaction to the Apomorphine, or I would have seen it before now, so it must be the Cyclozine. What should I do? Should I give her the Fruazenil? Is it because there's still too much Temazepam in her system?" "Karen, calm down," Thomas said firmly. "I take it you haven't used the Naloxone?" "I might be pushing my luck," Said Karen indignantly. "But I'm not completely reckless. Even I know that giving Naloxone to an alcoholic who's also a non-opiate user is playing with fire." "Just asking," Said Thomas mildly. "Karen, you're missing the obvious. After an extreme bout of vomiting, on top of a load of alcohol, Jo is simply dehydrated." "Of course," Said Karen dully. "I suppose that's why you're a Doctor." "Don't be so hard on yourself," Said Thomas with a smile. "Usually, there'd be at least four people who knew what they were doing with something like this, not just one." His words had registered clearly with both Yvonne and George, making them see just how much Karen had achieved this night. "How much saline did I give you?" Thomas asked. "Two half litre bags," Replied Karen, looking in the first aid box. "Good. Give her both, fifteen minutes apart. You don't want to overload her kidneys. If that doesn't work, come back to me and we'll think again, but there's no reason why it shouldn't. When you've got her stable, I need you to take a blood sample for me. We need it for LFT's and Creatinine levels."
When Thomas had gone, George said, "I'm assuming LFT means liver function test, but what is Creatinine?" "It's the chemical that tells us how well the kidneys are working," replied Karen, removing one of the bags of saline from the box, also finding that Thomas had put in the makings of a drip. Walking round to the other side of the bed, Karen reached over for Jo's left arm, the one with the needle still safely in place, and attached the drip and the bag of clear fluid. "Yvonne, come and hold this for me, and steadily squeeze it through." Yvonne did as she was asked, holding the bag up in the air to allow gravity to do some of the work. In a very short time, Jo did begin to look a lot healthier. "That's what you get for thinking you can do someone else's job," Said Karen in an undertone to herself. George could see that Karen felt a complete idiot for having overlooked the possibility of simple shock resulting from dehydration, but she knew that Thomas had been right. Karen had been doing the job of at least three if not four people that evening, and for that, she would be eternally grateful. Checking on Jo's pulse, Karen was relieved to see that it had dropped to 90, returning to the normal range for a healthy adult. After fifteen minutes, Karen replaced the empty saline bag with a full one, which Yvonne again squeezed through. "Are you back with us, Jo?" Karen asked, when she could see that Jo's eyes were open. "It looks like it," Jo replied dully, and it struck Karen that Jo really wouldn't be pleased with her for having done this. Once the second bag of fluid was empty, Karen detached the drip, but left the needle in place just in case of any unforeseen complications. "Jo, I need to take a sample from your other arm, to check on your kidney and liver function." Jo remained quiet as Karen did this, simply accepting that her plan hadn't been allowed to run its course. "Why not the arm that already has a needle in it?" Asked George, ever the one to find something to say. "Because we've been pumping drugs through that arm all night," Replied Karen, "And it would make the results unreliable." When Jo made a move to get out of bed, George tried to stop her. "It's okay," Said Karen. "I'm assuming the saline has kicked your kidneys back in to action." Jo gave her a ghost of a smile as she walked towards the bathroom. George picked up Karen's notebook and began flicking through what had been written, some of it in her own handwriting. She hadn't taken particular notice of it at the time, but now that the crisis was almost over, she had time to wonder. Karen began tidying up the debris of their activities. "You wrote down every little thing you did to her," Said George almost accusingly. "Yes," Said Karen, thinking she knew what was coming. "Why, if you weren't going to go official about it?" There came a sound of disgust from Yvonne. "You're a lawyer, George," She said, "You work it out." "You were covering your back," Said George, putting the pieces together. "Yes, I was," Said Karen without a hint of contrition. "Wouldn't you? What I've done tonight could have landed me behind bars, if we hadn't been successful, and even though we have, it could still get Thomas struck off for supplying me with the wherewith all to carry it out." "So you thought that Jo really might..." Yvonne gave George a glare that would have sent even Charlie Atkins looking for cover. "It was always a possibility, George, you know that. We've been extremely lucky."
When Jo came back in to the room, she looked like she'd tried to freshen herself up a bit. As she got back in to bed, Karen spoke to her. "You should be safe enough to go to sleep now," She said gently. "Can I have a cigarette?" Jo asked quietly, which made Yvonne smile. "I'd rather you didn't, just for tonight," Replied Karen. "I don't want you jerking your heart rate about any more than it already has been. Wait till tomorrow." Yvonne picked up the first aid box, and Karen got up from where she'd been sitting on the edge of the bed. Jo put out a hand and caught hold of Karen's. "Thank you," Was all she said. "I'd be an awful lot happier," Said Karen, fixing Jo with a relentlessly probing stare. "If I thought for one moment that you meant it. I'll come and see you tomorrow." When they'd all three left the room, Jo lay back on the pillows and wondered just what was happening to her.
In the lounge, Karen was collecting her things together, and George simply stood watching her. "We'll stay at mine tonight," Karen said, "It's closer. Any problems, just give me a ring." "I don't really know what to say," Said George in an unsteady voice. Karen walked over and hugged her. "I'm sorry," She added, the tears finally breaking free. "I had absolutely no idea what you were risking by doing this." "Call yourself a lawyer?" Said Karen with a gentle smile. After giving George a peck on the cheek, Karen added, "Keep an eye on her, every couple of hours or so and I'll come and check on her tomorrow." George now turned to Yvonne. "Thank you for being here," She said, "We couldn't have done this without you." "She'll be fine," Said Yvonne, trying to cover up how touched she was at George's gratitude. As George let them out of the front door and watched them drive away, she couldn't help but wonder just how John would take this. He'd likely be furious with all three of them. But they owed Jo's life to Karen, not something either of them should ever forget.