Here's Chapter 3. Obviously I'm not much of an expert on medicine, so if there are any mistakes in the treatment of patients, that's why. Thank you so much for all of the feedback, I really appreciate it :)
"Alright, what've we got?" Connie looked up at the sound of a familiar voice and frowned as the Clinical Nurse Manager swept into Resus, tugging on a pair of gloves.
"I thought I told you to see me in my office," she said, an edge to her tone as Rita took her place on the other side of the patient.
"Yes, well you're not in your office," came the blunt reply.
Connie bit back an utterance of exasperation, keeping her gaze fixed on her clipboard as she scribbled a few things down. "This is Tom Perkins, 37, involved in an RTA about half an hour ago. There are multiple glass wounds to the face and neck, although most are superficial. I'm concerned about possible internal bleeding from the impact of the crash - he's having trouble breathing."
"He's tachycardic," Rita reported, glancing across at his vital signs.
"Yes, I am aware of that, thank you," the Clinical Lead returned frostily. "Saline."
The nurse raised her eyes to the ceiling at Connie's words, deftly hanging up a litre of the clear liquid and shuffling around the bed to inspect the man's facial injuries. She ran a gloved finger over one of the deep cuts, brow furrowing. The injuries marred the entire of one side of his face, thankfully missing the eye by a couple of centimetres.
"We might need plastics on this," she murmured, looking up at Connie, who was still avoiding her gaze completely. "Alright, Tom, can you hear me?"
"I'm not deaf yet, thanks," came the disgruntled reply, followed by a feeble bout of coughing.
"Standard procedure, I'm afraid," Rita said, tone bright as she watched the clinical lead explore the Tom's torso with her hands, delicately squeezing around certain areas and occasionally eliciting a sharp intake of air from the patient. "So, how did you manage this?"
"I was minding my own business, wasn't I?" He grumbled. "Then this bastard comes out of nowhere and- ah!" Connie stood up straight, clearly satisfied as she withdrew her hands from Tom's body. She lifted down his shirt to cover the area of skin she'd been inspecting and reached for the notes to write a few things down.
"Okay, Tom, CT should be ready for you soon so we'll send you off for a scan. Sister Freeman, I don't suppose you could cease the small talk and find someone to take him up?"
"Well I can do that myself," Rita replied, a little thrown by Connie's curt tone of voice. She seemed to be even more hostile than usual; it had to be down to her lateness.
"Oh no, you and I need to talk." She still would not look up, and the clinical nurse manager felt a surge of frustration at her attitude.
"Right, yes, of course. Well-"
"Once you two have finished your domestic, I am actually in pain here." They were cut off by a snide voice from below them, and Connie closed her eyes briefly.
"My apologies, Mr Perkins. Could we start him on five milligrams of morphine, please Rita?"
"Yep," Rita nodded, heading away from the bed to retrieve the drug. As she returned, another nurse took it from her hands and indicated to the door, where Connie stood with her arms folded. She rolled her eyes, half tempted to insist upon administrating the drugs herself, but it was hardly worth the fuss. Best to get the conversation over with as soon as possible.
"Okay," she started, halting next to the Clinical Lead and taking a deep breath. "About this morning-"
"I'm really not interested in the details of this morning," Connie interrupted, eyes trained on Tom as she spoke. "What I'd really like to know is when you were planning on telling us about your little visits to Oncology."
Rita faltered, lips parted in surprise. For a moment, all she could do was stare; there was a power struggle between rage and despondency taking place in her mind. Her eyes stung. Then she swallowed, lips pursing momentarily. "You've been looking at my records," she managed to say, her low voice threatening to break.
"I had to access them to find your phone number this morning," Connie replied, nonchalant, although she looked for something to move the conversation along before Rita had a chance to point out that her contact details were at the top of the page, whilst the information concerning her recent appointments was listed at the very bottom. "How bad is it?"
"Suspected stage two," the nurse said, looking away. There was no point in trying to hide information anymore. "Ovarian."
"Epithelial?" The clinical lead seemed slightly surprised. Rita just nodded, blinking hard a few times to clear the prickling sensation behind her eyes.
"It's rare for a woman of your age..."
"My mum had breast cancer," Rita's voice quivered. Connie pretended not to notice.
"And what sort of treatment are you having?"
"A hysterectomy and bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy," she repeated the terms somewhat woodenly, as if she were accustomed to hearing them. "Followed by six cycles of chemotherapy."
"Then you'll need quite a lot of time off work."
Rita gritted her teeth. "I'm glad you have your priorities sorted," she said, fingers curling into fists at her side. Trust Connie to think only of her beloved department.
"All I meant was-"
"Save it. I'm sure you can find someone to fill my position for a few weeks. I don't intend to be away for too long." Rita's hard stare left Connie, flitting briefly around Resus before she turned on her heel to leave.
"Of course," came the meek reply from behind her. Surprised, she hesitated. Was Connie Beauchamp feeling sorry for her? Surely not; that was far too out of character to even consider. Putting her confusion down to tiredness, she shrugged the thought aside and headed towards the reception area. Perhaps a drink could clear her head.
It was approaching three o'clock by the time Rita finally got to take a break. Her previous plans to get a drink were interrupted by the arrival of a young girl mid-seizure, and it had taken a good forty five minutes to stabilise her. All the while, Connie had worked beside her in an uncomfortable silence. Rita knew there were many things left unsaid. It was a strange bond that had been formed between them; the Clinical Lead knew a truth that nobody else could hear if she wanted to continue working effectively at Holby. And yet Rita trusted her to keep her mouth shut. She wasn't quite sure why.
"Let me get that for you," a voice sounded from beside her and she started, jerked from her thoughts.
"Charlie! No, I've got it, it's fine."
"I insist," the nurse said with a lopsided smile, sliding a few coins across the counter to the barista, who turned away to prepare the drink. "Are you feeling okay? Only you've been absent a lot lately, and we're all worried about you."
Rita's expression softened, and she relaxed visibly in her demeanour. "Oh, I'm fine. I've just been a little unwell, that's all."
Charlie didn't seem too convinced, but he nodded all the same. "Just... Let me know if there's anything I can do, okay?"
"Thank you," she said, pressing her lips together into a sort of half-smile as he moved away from the counter.
As soon as he was out of sight, she let out a soft sigh, pressing one palm to her temple. The barista placed her coffee down in front of her with a sympathetic smile as he saw her expression, and she fixed her stare on him for a few moments before taking the coffee in her hands and turning to walk away.
Rita eventually settled in her office, closing the door with a little more force than necessary and moving to close the blinds. The ED had quietened considerably since that morning, yet there was still an influx of people coming in with minor injuries. She placed her coffee down on the desk, going to rifle through the stack of paperwork that she found there, but stopping as she caught sight of a folded piece of paper sat on top. Curious, Rita picked it up and ran her thumb along the side to open it. The writing inside was elegantly slanted, and she recognised it almost instantly.
Rita,
I have made the necessary arrangements for your operation to be pushed forwards. Dr Martins has agreed to look over the details with you. Your chemotherapy will also be rescheduled - I can't have my Clinical Nurse Manager missing too much work.
Best regards,
Connie
