A Match for Sister Maggy Read Online Free Page B

Maggy’s cheeks at the mention of his name, but she told herself that he was probably annoyed because the Ward Sister wasn’t on duty night and day. There were quite a few doctors who regarded nursesas machines who could work twenty-four hours a day. The door opened and Sir Charles Warren came in. He nodded in the direction of the bed and said. ‘Hullo, Henrietta.’ Then he turned to Maggy. ‘There you are. Pity you weren’t here when Mevrouw Doelsma came in. Nice little staff nurse you’ve got; you’ve trained her well, but she’s not a patch on you. Still, you’re here now. I’ll have a look at the patient and we’ll do an ECG and then we can have a chat.’
    Half an hour later he followed Maggy into her office, accepted a cup of coffee, drank it scalding hot and demanded another. Maggy poured it out and put in his usual four lumps of sugar.
    â€˜You’ll get an ulcer, Sir Charles,’ she said severely.
    He agreed comfortably. ‘Now, Mevrouw Doelsma. She should do. I think. Had a nasty coronary, but it seems to be settling. There’s always the chance of another one, though. Let me know at once, Maggy. You know what to do until I arrive.’ He got to his feet. ‘I must go.’ He gave a friendly smile, and made for the door which Maggy was holding open for him. ‘Glad it’s you looking after her, Sister. Couldn’t wish for anyone better. If anyone pulls her through it’ll be you.’ He nodded in a satisfied way and went.
    The rest of the day was busy. Maggy found to her annoyance that Madame Riveau had still refused to have her X-rays. She would have liked to have seen her husband during the evening visiting hours, but there was no nurse available for specialling after six o’clock, so she left Staff in charge of the ward, and went into Sep herself. It was ten o’clock before she could be relieved by a night nurse.
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    Mevrouw Doelsma was an excellent patient, and had gone quietly to sleep. Maggy thought she had a good chance of recovery.
    Williams wasn’t on duty until one o’clock, so that Maggy had a very busy morning. She was glad to go off duty after dinner, although she knew she would have to come back early. There was a nurse off sick, and extra beds up and down the centre of the ward. But she didn’t mind hard work. The ward was straight by seven o’clock, and she sent Williams and a junior nurse to supper. It was visiting time; the patients were occupied with their visitors. Maggy sat in Sep with the door open, so that she could see down the ward, and watch Mevrouw Doelsma at the same time; she was awake and lying quietly.
    The restlessness came on suddenly. Maggy put down the report book and got to the bed as Mevrouw Doelsma gave a couple of painful gasps, went livid, and lapsed into unconsciousness. Maggy turned on the oxygen, and strapped the nasal catheter in position, then drew up and gave an injection of morphia. Only then did she press the button which would turn on the red light above the door of Sep. There was little hope of a nurse back from supper; there was a full five minutes to go, but someone might see it and come to investigate. She could feel no pulse under her steady fingers; she adjusted the BP armband on the flaccid arm, but could get no sound through the stethoscope; with it still swinging around her neck, she turned to draw the heparin and mephine.
    She knew exactly what to do, and did it with calm speed, reflecting that it would have been easier with two. She had the syringe in hand when Dr Doelsma walked in. Without a word she handed it to him, and held the limp arm rigid so that he could inject the blood vessel in the elbow. ‘Heparin,’ she said. ‘I gave morphia’—she glanced at the clock—‘two minutes ago. The mephine is drawn up.’
    He nodded, jabbed the needle in, took the mephine from her and gave that too.
    She gave him the