Compassion
A/N: Erm, definitely not fluff. It's quite sad, actually-sorry all!
When Mel came in at noon after her two days off, Jamila, one of the young SHOs, was standing at the desk looking drawn. Bridget, one of the other nurses, was sitting with her head down, concentrating hard on the page in front of her. As she looked over to the left, she saw that the curtains in Room 2 were drawn.
Oh dear.
It was only when Linda stepped out of the room, straight-backed and newly dry-eyed, that she let herself sigh.
"What happened, Jams?"
"Early this morning, she took a turn for the worse. Her kidney function had come up a bit, but her heart had been on the blink for a while. She'd been looking awful overnight, so when I came in this morning Bridge asked me to give her daughter a call. John came in for his shift at seven, and by eight she was gone."
"Who's certifying?"
Jamila indicated the doors to Room 2, swinging open as they spoke. John trudged out, eyes red and face pinched and pale. His shoulders were hunched as he went over to Linda. Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, he spoke calmly but softly.
"I promise we'll take very good care of her."
Linda gave a watery smile, allowing Bridget to lead her through to the relatives' room.
John cocked his head to one side. "Mel? Can you come and check I've got everything right, please?"
She nodded once, following him into a room that was blazing with early morning sunshine.
She watched as he checked Mrs Williams' breathing, pulse and reflexes, murmuring quietly to her. She realised with a jolt that he was reassuring Marjorie, telling her what he was doing and why. She knew colleagues who talked to patients when they were 'laying them out', and it was quite common as a coping mechanism.
His hands were totally steady, his eyes dry and his movements professional and sure, but his eyes were soft and his fingers gentle. He patted the back of Marjorie's hand before taking off his gloves and straightening up. Even after twenty years of nursing, she found herself with a little lump in her throat as John sniffed once before turning to go.
Half an hour later, with all the paperwork completed, she went looking for the errant Dr Watson. She found him in the staff room, staring vacantly into space and twisting his stethoscope in his hands. Plonking herself down beside him, Mel slung her arm around his shoulders, watching him curl into himself.
"I should be more professional than this, Mel. I should have seen it coming-I knew she was badly ill, and that we weren't looking to cure her, but I still got att-attached." His voice cracked on the last word and he sniffed, swiping angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Be realistic, John. This is the first patient you've lost, correct?" He nodded. "This is your first placement as a doctor responsible for some level of patient care, correct?" He nodded again. "Then how the hell d'you expect not to be affected by it? I'd be worried if you weren't! Do you know what Marjorie said about you? She said you spent time with her, held her hand, showed her that she was important to you. That's what matters in our line of work. If you can't mix the medical skills with the personal ones then you end up a crappy doctor. You said it yourself: we weren't looking to cure her, but you helped to make the last few days she spent on the ward better ones."
John murmured, clearly unconvinced, but stood up as Mr Salim appeared at the door, looking down at his charge with a small smile.
"Sorry to call on you so soon after what happened this morning, but we've got another three patients coming up from acute receiving, so it's all hands to the pump. Are you ready?"
John nodded briskly, loping off after the consultant in the direction of Room 5.