In theory, Sarah should have had the morning off but it was Tyndall’s ward round and it was expected that she should be there for that and the medical meeting afterwards. She arrived in the unit fifteen minutes early so that she could brief Logan on Mary O’Donnell and found him with the patient when she arrived. She noted that he’d written her up for Sigma probes.
“Do you think it’s worth it?” she inquired. “She has massive brain damage.”
“Anyone under eighteen gets Sigma Probes routinely,” replied Logan. “It’s written into the trial protocol. We have discretion with older patients but the rules apply to our young friend here.”
“I see,” said Sarah.
“I thought you knew that,” said Logan.
“No one told me.”
Logan did not respond.
“Will you be carrying out the scans on Miss O’Donnell?” Sarah asked.
“Unless Dr Tyndall says otherwise. Why?”
“It’s just that I met her parents last night and her parish priest. I’m interested in the outcome,” said Sarah. She felt uncomfortable saying it, as if she were inviting Logan to slap her down.
Sure enough, Logan said, “Don’t become personally involved with the patients. I think I’ve told you that before. It will drain you. You won’t be able to function properly as a doctor. You’ll be finished in this kind of medicine within a year. Think of them as cases, nothing more. Do your best for them, but keep it impersonal.”
“Perhaps there’s a middle way, Dr Logan,” said Sarah in a tone that suggested Logan had missed it by a mile.
“I’m only saying this for your own good,” said Logan. “You won’t last a year.”
“I don’t intend to make my career in this kind of medicine anyway,” said Sarah.
“Oh yes,” smiled Logan, “I heard. You’ve set your heart on being a GP — just like Daddy.”
Sarah coloured with anger but she kept a rein on her tongue.
“That’s different then. You can get involved all you want to with sore throats and boils on the bum. Demanding stuff.”
“There’s a lot more to being a GP than that,” answered Sarah.
“I forgot about the ante-natal clinics,” murmured Logan.
Sarah responded with a look of disdain.
Logan seemed to take it in his stride. He looked at Sarah and said, “Look around you! This is where it’s at. Front line medicine! You’ve been given the chance to work at the very forefront of medical science and all you can think about is a career doling out HRT to the Women’s Institute!”
“That is absolutely...!” Words failed Sarah as she tried to respond to Logan’s sneer. What hurt her most was the awful feeling of disloyalty that had come over her because somewhere at the back of her mind a part of her agreed with everything Logan had said.
“Good morning everyone,” said Murdoch Tyndall’s voice and Sarah and Logan froze in mid argument. “Good morning sir,” they said in unison without breaking eye contact.
“Shall we begin?”
The consultant’s round went smoothly enough with Logan briefing Tyndall on the progress of each patient in turn and Sarah speaking when she was spoken to. Mary O’Donnell was the last patient to be considered as she was the latest admission. Tyndall read the notes and murmured, “Doesn’t look good does it?”
“No sir.”
“Will you do the scans this morning?”
“Yes sir. About the Sigma Probes? Will you implant them?”
“I’ll do it before I go. Do we have a sterile set?”
Sister Roche said, “Yes, sir.”
“Do we know about relatives?”
Logan turned to Sarah. She said, “I saw both parents early this morning when we admitted her from A&E. The patient’s parish priest was also here.”
“A little premature,” said Tyndall, beaming slightly to advertise his joke.
“I got the impression that Father Lafferty is a family friend,” said Sarah.
“Lafferty?”
“Yes sir.”
“Wasn’t he the chap who had an interest in Mr McKirrop?”
“Yes sir.”
“If he keeps this up we’ll have to make him chaplain to the unit!” said Tyndall.
Everyone smiled on cue.
“I hope you didn’t build their hopes too high,” said Tyndall, becoming serious again.
“No sir,” said Sarah. “I think they realised the seriousness of the position.”
“Good,” said Tyndall gravely. “We may have to see them after the scans are complete. We don’t want this to drag on if there’s no chance of recovery.” He turned to Sarah and asked, “I don’t suppose you can give us an indication what the priest’s position might be on discontinuing the ventilator if it should come to that?”
“Not really sir,” replied Sarah. “But he struck me as an eminently sensible man.”
“Good,” said Tyndall. “The last thing we need is a self-righteous nutter causing all kinds of distress to everyone.”
“No, sir.”
“Well, that’s it then. I’ll do the probes if you prepare a tray Sister.”
“Yes sir,” said Roche.
Tyndall went to scrub up for the minor surgical procedure involved in implanting the Sigma probes in Mary O’Donnell’s skull. A few minutes later the phone rang in the duty room and a nurse announced that it was Mrs O’Donnell.
“You take it,” said Logan to Sarah. “I’ll prepare for the scans. You can tell her we should be done by twelve. We’ll know more then. You know the routine.”
Sarah spoke to Jean O’Donnell and told her that Mary’s condition was unchanged. She didn’t remind her that it couldn’t change with machines doing everything for her.
“Does that mean she’s got a chance then?” asked Jean O’Donnell eagerly.
A lump came to Sarah’s throat. She said, “I’m afraid it doesn’t in itself, Mrs O’Donnell. It means that her physical state is unchanged but we don’t know anything about the damage to her brain as yet. Dr Logan is just about to begin her scans. Can you call back about lunch time?”
“Yes, Doctor, and — thank you.”
“I’ll speak to you later,” said Sarah.
Lafferty spent the morning in the church praying for the recovery of Mary O’Donnell but also for strength to bring comfort to her grieving parents should it be necessary. After his conversation with Sarah Lasseter in the early hours of the morning he suspected that the latter would be more relevant. He wondered how Jean would take it. She’d always had an unshakable faith. Please God it would survive the death of her daughter.
Joseph O’Donnell would be bitter and, when mixed with the guilt he was feeling, it might prove a heady cocktail to handle. Joe needed someone or something to blame. He and Mary had been at loggerheads for weeks over her boyfriend and the hours she kept. Joe clearly loved his daughter but the fact that he would never be able to tell her this and that she had died with so much bad feeling between them would be hard for him to bear. He would feel resentful and betrayed.
Lafferty phoned to ask if there was any news. Joe O’Donnell answered.
“Still the same,” he said.
“No sign of improvement?”
“They’re doing tests this morning.”
“I’ll call back later, Joe.”
“Father?”
“Yes?”
“About the fight Mary and I had last week — the mark on her head — I didn’t mean her no harm. I mean... I love her really.”
“I know that, Joe. Don’t worry about it. I’ll speak to you later.”