Doctor at Risk. Alison Roberts

slipped her fingers under the occipital area. It was a problem spot for pressure sores and she checked carefully for any matted hair that might be making complications more likely before she began rubbing the area gently. ‘Does this help?’

      ‘Yeah. Thanks.’

      Wendy rubbed in silence for a minute. Martin’s eyes were closed and she hoped that he might be able to sleep for a while before any visits from family, doctors or other staff members, like representatives of the radiology or physiotherapy departments.

      ‘I’m thirty-two as well.’ Martin kept his eyes shut. ‘But even if I do end up in a wheelchair, it doesn’t mean my life is over, does it?’

      ‘Of course not.’ There was no chance Martin would escape the fate of being confined to a wheelchair. The best he could hope for would be retaining some function of his arms and hands. Ross had regained almost normal neurology in his upper limbs now. He was even getting some sensation back in his legs. Unfair luck as far as Martin went. Ross had fallen nearly five metres onto a surface jagged with broken concrete. Martin had dived into only one metre of water but his life had changed irrevocably. Wendy hoped he would be able to retain at least part of his positive attitude in the coming weeks.

      ‘Some people do amazing things in wheelchairs,’ Martin continued. ‘They can still drive cars.’

      ‘Sure. I know of someone who got their pilot’s licence.’

      ‘There’s even Olympic Games for people in wheelchairs, isn’t there?’

      ‘Absolutely.’ Wendy kept up her gentle rubbing. Why couldn’t Ross have an attitude like this? Even if he couldn’t do the kind of physical activities he had been used to, it was no reason to decide that any interest in sport was over. He wouldn’t even watch it on television now. Their mutual love of challenging outdoor pursuits had been what they’d had most in common and it had given them both the perfect opportunity to explore the attraction that made Wendy’s memory of that first classroom session of the Urban Search and Rescue course something of a blur.

      * * *

      The wait for the morning tea-break had seemed agonisingly long and the opportunity had almost been ruined by the general amusement at the very obvious beeline Kyle Dickson had made to corner Wendy. She had been relieved as well as delighted to turn away from the young volunteer firefighter to respond to the quiet doctor’s comment.

      ‘You sounded pretty keen on outdoor pursuits when you introduced yourself. I do a bit of running myself.’

      ‘Do you?’ At close quarters for the first time, Wendy could appreciate the individual features that made Ross Turnball such an attractive package. Standing up showed off his slim, athletic build and Wendy had to look a long way up to catch the thoughtful expression in the brown eyes. Mind you, even Kyle topped Wendy by a few inches and his head only reached the jaw of the man he was now standing beside. ‘Are you into marathons?’

      ‘I’ve done one or two.’

      Wendy liked the quiet modesty of the response. It fitted the impression she had already gained of Ross. He seemed an intelligent and committed GP who was probably happy to work in a rather isolated area due to the fact that he had already sorted out who he was and what he wanted from life.

      ‘The running’s more to keep me fit for the stuff I really enjoy.’

      ‘Which is?’

      ‘Cycling. Surf canoeing. Tramping. It’s why I live on the West Coast. I’ve got the best playground possible literally right at my back door.’

      ‘I do a bit of running myself.’ Kyle failed miserably in his attempt to imitate Ross’s modest tone. ‘I’m planning on doing a marathon soon.’

      ‘Good for you.’ Wendy’s smile was a little strained. Kyle had to be ten years younger than Wendy and his over-confidence had jarred more than one person in this gathering already. What Kyle couldn’t appreciate was that his presence was only serving to increase the attraction of the quiet and far more mature man beside him. When her gaze met Ross’s, the silent communication acknowledged the fact that Kyle was trying to move in on her but didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell, and Wendy’s smile curved into genuine pleasure. The connection was mutual and they had already established a platform on which to build.

      Wendy was not slow to grasp an opportunity and nobody had ever suggested that she suffered from shyness. Some men had been intimidated by her direct approach in the past, but Ross seemed delighted to respond to her more personal queries over the next few days. She discovered that he was thirty-seven years old, had never been married and lived in an eco-friendly house, which he’d designed himself, in a pocket of the native bush that bordered long stretches of the West Coast. He was a GP but had trained initially as a surgeon and was also on the staff of the local Coast Hospital some distance from his home just out of Charleston. The more Wendy learned, the deeper her conviction was that she had found the man she had been searching for. It was an easy step to invite him out that first weekend.

      ‘I’m going rock-climbing on Saturday,’ she informed Ross. ‘Well, more bouldering, really.’

      ‘What’s bouldering?’

      ‘Rock-climbing without a rope.’ Wendy grinned.

      ‘Sounds dangerous.’

      ‘We don’t go too high. It’s a matter of picking a difficult route sideways and using tricky moves. It’s a mental exercise as much as physical. You have to gauge your power-to-weight ratio and be fairly agile. You’d probably be very good at it.’

      ‘It’s not something I’ve ever tried.’

      ‘First time for everything.’ Wendy’s cheerful tone disguised the fact that her heart rate had picked up considerably. ‘Why don’t you come with me on Saturday?’

      ‘What about gear?’

      ‘I’ve got a friend who’s about your size. I’ll organise some rock shoes and a helmet and I’ve got harnesses and rope and carabiners if you decide you’d like some more traditional climbing.’

      ‘I’m keen.’ The slow smile indicated a contained but genuine enthusiasm. ‘It’s a date.’

      It was a date Wendy would never forget. One that ended up lasting the entire weekend but still seemed to end far too soon.

      * * *

      ‘I’m not going to let this beat me.’ Martin’s soft words interrupted Wendy’s escape into introspection. ‘Nobody can say for sure how bad things will end up being. The doctor I saw at home said I had spinal shock, which can make it seem worse than it is. How long does that last?’

      ‘It varies. Average time is three to four weeks.’ Ross was only two weeks into that period now. It was far too early to make any assumptions about his outcome.

      ‘What is it exactly?’

      ‘It’s basically a disruption of transmission between the brain and the spinal cord. It’s also called altered reflex activity.’

      ‘So it could be ages before I really know how paralysed I’m going to be, right? I might have a complete recovery.’

      He was a fighter, that was for sure. Wendy would have loved to encourage him but she knew that if there was going to be a miraculous recovery from a period of spinal shock, it was normal to see at least some signs of it within the first twenty-four hours after the injury, as Ross had done. In Martin’s case, his level of neurological sparing was deteriorating. ‘We’re going to do our best to make sure your outcome is as good as it can possibly be,’ she responded carefully.

      ‘You’ll see.’ Martin wasn’t content with such a cautious response. ‘I’m going to win this battle.’

      ‘Good for you.’ Wendy eased her fingers over the fluid-filled cushion under Martin’s head. ‘I need to check some other things now but we’ll be turning you in fifteen minutes so that will help the pressure on your