Mistaken Engagement (6 page)

His demeanour had a constant watchfulness that was the mark of a professional. Awareness was crucial as any change in the weather conditions could endanger their lives and the life of the patient they were here to save.

Thinking of that patient Brigid couldn’t help the warning that popped out of her mouth. “Once we get on the platform we immediately need to get the oxygen on the patient if his breathing is as compromised as reported.”

“That’s protocol. So yes, I’ll be able to do it,” he answered.

From the bite in his tone, her attempt to keep the doubt out of her voice wasn’t entirely successful. Well, he would have to lump it. Out here, no-one’s abilities were taken for granted; no matter how highly decorated a medic they had been in combat.

The final check came through the intercom.

“Rescue Doctor ready,” confirmed Brigid.

“Rescue Crew Member One ready,” said Matt.

It was still slightly jarring to hear Matt’s American accent, coming through her headphones on the helicopter’s intercom. She couldn’t help but note it was an extremely masculine sound, deep, with just a touch of Texan drawl. The confidence she could hear must be a remnant of his US Army background.

At six foot two, Matt pushed the height restrictions of the rescue crew and his body, while obviously strong, was sleekly muscled rather than bulky. Brigid was not sure how comfortable she was with the appeal she found in his square jaw and closely cropped dark hair. It was a strict policy of Brigid’s not to date men she worked with. She had grown up watching her surgeon father create hurt and havoc by treating the nurses he worked with as disposable sexual playthings. That experience made her policy non-negotiable. Anyway, as she had to remind herself, she was not into overly confident men.

“We’re a go,” said pilot Dave, finally. “I’ll drop Brigid and Matt on the corner opposite the patient. That way we won’t hit the guys on the platform with too much updraft.”

Matt stood against the doorframe and clipped Brigid’s harness onto his own. She stepped out of the door after him and allowed the harness to take her full weight. No matter how many times she did this she couldn’t help feeling that, with the two of them on the winch, they were breaking the laws of physics.

Chris, the wire operator, slowly released Matt and Brigid down, face to face, with only the heavy medical bag between them. Suspended on the wire, they were totally buffeted by the wind and considerable updraft. This was often the most perilous part of any air rescue operation.

Not many people had to get this physically intimate with their co-workers. Then again, not many people had to trust their co-workers not to drop them into the sea from a height of twenty metres.

“Right?” Matt had to put his mouth almost on her ear in order to ask the question. She nodded her agreement.

Matt’s feet touched down on the platform first and he guided Brigid to stand beside him. At once, she couldn’t help but be grateful for the protection his supple strength offered.

When Brigid’s feet touched the deck she knew the success of the next part of the mission depended on her. She was now in charge of this rodeo.

Brigid walked across the unsteady dive platform with unfailing balance. Who would have thought a talent for gymnastics would have become so useful in her practice of medicine?

She glanced across to Matt. He too was moving without hesitation, carrying all the equipment they were going to need in the next few minutes. The waves crashed onto the platform and the resulting sea mist stung at Brigid’s eyes.

When they got to the patient and the man standing over him, Brigid was glad the dive master was someone she recognised. Trent was from a reputable, safety conscious local dive company and was well trained enough to have oxygen already on her patient.

Of immediate concern was that the patient’s scuba suit was still on. It was now twenty-five minutes since the dive boat had called for help. He was still clad in wet rubber, which meant his condition had certainly not improved.

“What happened?” Brigid asked Trent, as she knelt to get a closer look at the patient. The patient was around fifty and she suspected he normally looked fit when he wasn’t pale, blue-lipped and in obvious pain.

“Joe was having a normal dive when he started looking panicked and began ascending way too quickly. Once he got to the surface he was gasping for air and soon after he was complaining of chest pains and coughing blood,” said Trent, his voice was matter of fact.

“Did you see any of his bubbles on the way up?”

“No,” was Trent’s definitive answer. The grave look on his face reflected Brigid’s fears. A scuba diver who ascends too quickly and doesn’t breathe on the way up encounters a potentially fatal hazard that even the best safety practices can’t protect against.

Brigid looked over to Matt. He’d already retrieved the spinal board that the crew had lowered and signalled the pilot to put the helicopter into a holding pattern. The movement of the helicopter gave the platform some distance from the sound of the engine’s roar.

She leaned down to the patient. “Hey Joe,” she said. “We’re going to make you feel better soon, so I want you to relax and try not to talk.”

“One, two, three.” On Brigid’s call, they rolled Joe onto his side. With difficultly, Brigid managed to get the zipper of Joe’s scuba suit halfway down. However, it was clear that without their patient able to help, they were going to have to cut him out of the suit.

Matt was even now pulling scissors out of the bag, knowing she would need to access the man’s chest for the most basic of assessments.

Matt’s ability to judge the actions needed in this situation relieved Brigid. Going by the bluish tinge to Joe’s lips, they needed to get him to the hospital, fast.

Brigid pulled back the suit as Matt made swift cuts. Within seconds they had Joe’s chest exposed, and the suit cut down to his waist.

Brigid used her stethoscope to listen to Joe’s chest.

“Decreased breath sounds on his right hand side,” she recorded to Matt.

Matt had quickly attached equipment that allowed them to measure both blood pressure and oxygen stats.

The results were borderline. In a hospital environment, she would probably perform an emergency procedure. Here, out at sea, she was glad that action was not going to be forced upon her.

On a three-by-three metre, rocking platform that was attached by a chain to the deep seabed she was less than inclined to stick a large bore needle into this man’s chest cavity. Knowing the patient would be able to wait until they reached the sterile and better-equipped environment of a major hospital was a relief. “Probable pneumothorax. It’s a scope and run,” Brigid said to Matt.

She communicated the same information to the helicopter, via the two-way radio attached to her flight suit.

She gestured for Trent to move away as she and Matt strapped their patient tightly to the spinal board stretcher. She discarded the dive boat supplied oxygen mask, and put on the one from her kit. She hoped to push up Joe’s oxygen stats, making him more comfortable for the ride back to the hospital.

The helicopter moved back into position, this time directly above their heads. The crew dropped the wire, complete with patient transport hooks, to where Matt could easily catch it. They secured the stretcher to the hooks and Matt to the stretcher board. It was his job to be winched with the patient. He needed to make sure the difficult manoeuvre of the stretcher through the helicopter doors came off as smoothly as possible. Matt would then come back down and collect Brigid and the medical equipment.

As Matt got their patient safely to the chopper, Brigid made sure all the equipment was secure. Medical equipment was far too expensive for them to drop it into the sea. When Matt swung himself back to the platform, she could see the quick and sadly familiar look of surprise that she already had the heavy bags in her arms.

You didn’t last long in this job if you couldn’t pull your weight. Since her first day as flight doctor, Brigid had very deliberately put five kilos of muscle onto her slim five foot eleven frame. She helped Matt with the backpack and then stood passively as he latched them together again.

The wind had picked up, so the wire swung as the winch took them skyward. With a casual move that underplayed the sheer physical strength needed, Matt locked his leg around hers and twisted. This action ensured that if they crashed into the side of the helicopter, because of an unfortunate gust of wind, his body would bear the brunt of any impact.

The action caught Brigid by surprise. For a long moment, she was distracted by a simple appreciation for the hard thigh against her own. Another hard jolt of the dangling wire quickly brought her brain back to life. She was not sure how she felt about this act of almost casual chivalry. While it was Matt’s job to maintain the safety of all crew and patients on down wire operations, it was not his job to put himself between her and danger.

Brigid did not have long to ponder that thought, as all her concentration was needed to clamber though the door of the helicopter. This was something that always required a certain amount of physical dexterity.

Between Matt and herself, they quickly had Joe hooked up to the available monitors. If something was going to go wrong with your patient in-flight, you wanted to know fast. Minimal room to move limited their options, so advance warning was essential.

It was a fifteen-minute flight from the Outer Reef to Cairns Hospital so all Brigid could do now was monitor his vital signs. Luckily, they seemed to be holding steady, and under the pressure of the more efficient oxygen mask, his oxygen stats were even improving slightly. The bluish tinge was still there, but the look of panic in Joe’s eyes had lessened considerably.

Brigid settled back in her seat and picked up her radio. She dialled the direct line to Cairns Base Hospital.

“Dr Brigid Adair from Cairns Rescue One speaking. Confirming incoming patient with suspected pneumothorax. ETA seven minutes, coming in to helicopter landing pad.”

It was days like this you could see the real need for the Emergency Management Queensland Helicopter Rescue Service. No helicopter availability would have meant Joe would only now be beginning a two-hour boat ride back to shore, on a dive boat without medical supervision.

Yet Brigid was not ready to congratulate herself until the helicopter had touched down and she had successfully transferred a stabilised Joe to the Cairns Emergency Department.

She could see the rapidly approaching coastline and Cairns Base Hospital rooftop. Cairns Base Hospital was one of the few hospitals in the country right on the water’s edge. This came in handy, in moments like this one, as it allowed for the quick transfer of patients from the islands or reefs.

Their helicopter landing pad was on the stretch of grass between the hospital and the marina. The surrounding outer reefs protected Cairns’ beaches, so the waves that had pounded the dive platform were non-existent here and the water had the famous Queensland sparkle.

Dave brought the helicopter expertly over the hospital grounds and down smoothly onto the clearly marked landing pad. They were doing a hot transfer, so they kept the helicopter running while transferring the patient. When the helicopter door opened, air generated by the still rapidly swirling blades blasted their faces.

A nurse and two orderlies came over a with a hospital trolley. Between Brigid, Matt and two extra pairs of hands, they successfully transferred Joe to the hospital trolley. Once a safe distance from the helicopter, Brigid gave the crew the thumbs up and signalled for them to head back to base without her.

THE ICING on her day-from-hell cake strode into her office like he owned it.

Mia Windsor pushed back her chair and came to her feet. It didn’t matter that the broken air-conditioner rendered the room hotter than a furnace. It didn’t matter that her spilt glass of water had soaked the front of her shirt and turned the client notes she’d been reading into an ink-washed landscape worthy of framing. She was again secure in her comfort zone: she knew how to deal with a man who appeared a carbon-copy of her father.

This client may be a stranger but she knew the exact shade of his power-gold silk tie, the exact angle of his proud chin. The chill of her blouse soaked into her soul. She also knew the meaning of the two body-lengths of distance between him and the wide-eyed child who trailed behind him.

She took a moment to ensure her words emerged clear, concise, perfect, then she stepped out from behind her desk and extended a hand. ‘Welcome to Little Poppies Speech Pathology, Mr. Reid.’

Eyes as blue as an endless outback sky met hers. Masculine lips moved in a barely-there smile before his tanned fingers grasped hers with a surprising gentleness. Too late she felt the weight of the top-knot she’d secured with a pencil shift. Her hair spilled around her shoulders. She closed her fingers around his and squeezed as if her life depended on it. As if her professional hat hadn’t tumbled to the floor along with her makeshift hairpin.

An indefinable expression darkened his eyes before his features again settled in rigid, remote lines. ‘Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Ms. Windsor.’