A Nightingale Christmas Wish by Donna Douglas Read Free Book Online Page A

brilliant surgeon, but he had a reputation at the Nightingale Hospital for being difficult. Helen had prided herself on being able to handle his explosive rages during her time in Theatre, which was why she’d volunteered to assist him instead of subjecting the poor students to his temper.
    But after two hours of overgrown adenoids, infected sinuses, deflected nasal septums, polyps and mastoids, she was beginning to wonder why she’d agreed so readily. She’d forgotten what a hard taskmaster he could be.
    She prepared the instruments and filled bowls with water, administered anaesthetic and grimly held on to patients’ heads while Mr Prentiss set to work, syringing ears, piercing sinuses with terrifying pointed instruments, and banging away at infected mastoids with a hammer and chisel. Then, when the operation was over, she would usher the patient away, tidy up and remove the instruments for cleaning, then replace them with fresh ones from the steriliser.
    And all the time, Mr Prentiss was barking orders at her. ‘Adjust the light, Sister, I can’t see a thing.’ ‘Where is the Siegel’s speculum?’ ‘For God’s sake, dry that ear. How am I supposed to examine it?’
    Thankfully, by one o’clock it was all over. The last infected sinus had been drained and sent home, and Helen could relax.
    She was putting the last of the instruments into the steriliser when French, one of the students, stuck her head around the door.
    ‘Please, Sister, come quickly!’ she panted. ‘A patient’s just dropped dead in the waiting room!’
    In the main Casualty hall, all hell had broken loose. Helen arrived just in time to see the porters carrying away a stretcher draped in a blanket, while all around people were crying and shaking their heads and talking loudly among themselves. Penny Willard was handing out cups of tea to everyone.
    ‘If you could just calm down, please . . .’ she called out, her voice lost in the commotion.
    Another student, Perkins, sat white-faced in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself.
    Before Helen could reach her, Dr McKay bore down on her out of nowhere, looking like an avenging angel in his flapping white coat.
    ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded.
    ‘In the Outpatients’ clinic. What happened?’ Helen looked around.
    ‘I’ll tell you what happened. A man has just collapsed with a cardiac failure, right in front of the other patients. And you weren’t here to deal with it!’
    Helen looked at Perkins. Her face was blotchy with tears. ‘I-I’m sorry, Sister, I didn’t know what to do,’ she stammered. ‘He said he felt sick, so I went off to fetch a dish. But then he suddenly turned a funny grey colour and started sweating, and the next thing I knew he was on the floor – I didn’t know whether to stay with him or to fetch the doctor.’ She wiped the tears from her face with a shaking hand.
    ‘Why didn’t you get Nurse Willard to help?’ Helen asked.
    ‘Please, Sister, she was on her break. There was no one here but me.’ Perkins started to cry again, great heaving sobs that shook her body.
    Helen hurried over and sat down beside her, putting her arm around the girl’s shaking shoulders. ‘Don’t cry, Perkins, it’s all right. You have no reason to blame yourself,’ she soothed her.
    ‘Quite right. She isn’t to blame – you are!’ Dr Mckay snapped. ‘The poor girl should never have been left in charge of the Casualty department on her own.’ His brown eyes blazed. ‘That man might have been saved if you’d been here to act. But instead you’re off in Outpatients, merrily cleaning instruments while chaos descends!’
    Dr Adler stepped in. ‘Now I’m sure there’s no call for that. Sister Dawson is doing her best—’
    ‘Then her best obviously isn’t good enough, is it?’ Dr McKay turned on her accusingly. ‘You’re supposed to be the sister. You’re supposed to be in charge.’
    Helen stared at him, forcing herself to stay calm in the