Men In Uniform: Mad About The Doctor. Natalie Anderson

for later—perhaps this time tomorrow morning when she was stitching his forehead after his board hit him, Alison thought, taking the next patient card from the pile.

      ‘Louise Haversham?’ Alison called out to the waiting room, and when there was no answer she called the name again.

      ‘Two minutes!’ came the answer, a pretty blonde holding up her hand at Alison’s interruption and carrying on her conversation on her phone, but perhaps realising that Alison was about to call the next name on the list she concluded her call and walked with Alison to a cubicle.

      ‘How long have you had toothache for?’ Alison asked, checking Louise’s temperature and noting it on her card.

      ‘Well, it’s been niggling for a couple of weeks but it woke me up at four and I couldn’t get back to sleep.’

      ‘Have you seen your dentist?’ Alison asked, and Louise shook her head.

      ‘I’ve been too busy—I’m working two jobs.’ She glanced up at the clock. ‘How long will the doctor be? I’m supposed to be at work at nine.’

      Then Alison had better hurry the doctor along!

      ‘Who’s next?’ Nick asked cheerfully. ‘A nice motorbike crash, perhaps?’ He winked, just to show her he’d heard her in the staffroom.

      ‘I’m saving the good stuff for later,’ Alison said. ‘I’ve got a toothache.’

      ‘I’m sorry to hear it.’

      She rolled her eyes at the very old joke, but it did make her smile just a little bit and he was so easy to talk to, because somewhere between the work station and Cubicle Five she’d told him that she was going to the dentist herself next week. He opened the curtain where the very pretty blonde with a sore tooth that couldn’t possibly wait till nine a.m. for a dentist was no longer chatting on her phone but cupping her jaw in her hand and looking an absolute picture of misery.

      ‘Good morning.’ He introduced himself and Louise introduced herself and managed, Alison noted, despite her agony, to perk up just a touch and give him a very brave smile.

      ‘I’m so sorry.’ She was far nicer to Nick than she had been to Alison. ‘I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I haven’t slept all night…’

      ‘Not at all. Dental pain’s awful,’ Nick said. Warning her he wasn’t a dentist, he first had a feel of her jaw before he looked in her mouth, then long brown fingers examined her jaw again and felt around her neck. ‘What was her temperature?’ Nick asked, and Alison told him it was normal. ‘There’s no swelling. Still, I think we should give you something for the pain and a poultice for the tooth, but you really do need to see your dentist.’ He turned round. ‘Alison, do we have any oil of cloves?’

      Right at the back of the treatment cupboard.

      ‘Busy?’ her friend Moira asked minutes later as she watched Alison curiously.

      ‘Frantic!’ She rolled her eyes to show that she wasn’t in the least. ‘I’m making an oil-of-cloves poultice,’ Alison said, her own teeth slightly gritted.

      ‘A what?’ Moira frowned. ‘What’s that?’

      ‘Some old English treatment. Actually, I remember my mum giving this to me once. I’ve never been asked for it.’

      ‘Nick?’ Moira checked and gave a little sigh. ‘He asked me for some gentian violet yesterday.’ She held up her palms to show the evidence. ‘He dishes out the TLC, wish he’d dish some out in my direction!’ Moira was Irish, just passing through Coogee too as she nursed and travelled her way around the world. She was fun and flirty and just…fun!

      ‘Is he always so nice to everyone? It’s like a social club in Section B.’

      ‘Always,’ Moira said cheerfully.

      Returning to Cubicle Five, Alison wondered if he’d still be so nice when the place was frantic, but for now he was taking his time with his patient.

      ‘Okay, Louise, I’ve given you a note for the dentist—you need to get that seen to this morning.’

      Louise, once she’d bitten down on her cotton bud soaked in oil of cloves, managed to rally enough to tell him the name of the bar she worked at in the city, and that she was on at the weekend if he wanted to stop by for a drink on the house.

      ‘I’m working…’ Nick grinned ‘…but that’s terribly kind of you.’

      ‘He’s worth getting toothache for,’ Louise commented as he swept out and only the fresh scent of him lingered. They shared a little smile. ‘If I suddenly come over all dizzy, will you call him back for me?’

      ‘I’ll get Amy, the other registrar.’ Alison winked. ‘She’s good with dizzy females.’

      ‘Shame.’

      Nick changed the atmosphere of the place—he seemed delighted to be there, nothing was too trivial and nothing major unnerved him, as Alison found out when the husband of a swollen-ankle case suddenly complained of chest pain and started to pass out. Still Nick remained unruffled, breaking the gentleman’s fall as Alison quickly wheeled out his wife, pressing the emergency bell and collecting the crash trolley.

      By the time she returned, about twenty seconds later, the man had gone into full arrest and between them they had him clipped to the portable monitor, with Alison commencing cardiac massage even before help had arrived.

      ‘Let’s get him down to Resus.’ Amy, the emergency registrar, called for a trolley, but Nick thought otherwise.

      ‘Let’s just keep going here.’ It was a tiny override, or just a difference of opinion—nothing really—but when Amy, who easily took offence, simply nodded and they all just carried on working on the man on the cubicle floor, Alison realised the respect he had garnered in the short while he had been here.

      Pads on, Nick shocked him, and before the crash team had arrived, the poor man was back in sinus rhythm and starting to come round.

      ‘It’s okay, sir…’ Nick’s was absolutely the voice you wanted to come round to. He didn’t talk down to the man and he didn’t scare him as he lay there groaning. ‘You’re doing fine—your heart went into an irregular rhythm but it’s beating normally now.’ He smiled up to Amy. ‘Okay, let’s get him on a trolley and down to you guys. I’ll go and speak with his wife.’

      ‘What was he in for?’ Amy asked.

      ‘He’s here with his wife, Doreen,’ Nick explained. ‘She’s got an ankle injury.’

      Having seen what was going on, Libby, the receptionist, had taken Doreen to an interview room and taken the husband’s details from the shaken woman. After quickly writing his notes and checking the new patient’s name, Nick walked down to the interview room with Alison.

      He was very thorough, first checking her husband’s details and assuming nothing—that Ernest was, in fact, her husband and finding out if she had contacted anyone. Then Nick got to the point, explaining that it would appear Ernest had had a heart attack.

      ‘It probably doesn’t feel it now, but your husband is an extremely lucky man—he could not have been in a better place when this happened.’

      ‘Will he be okay?’

      ‘We certainly hope so. He’s conscious, the cardiologists will be running some tests now, but certainly the next twenty-four hours will be critical. I’m going to go and speak with my colleagues now and find out some more for you. I suggest you ring your son and get some family here to support you.’ He stood and shook her hand. ‘And I’ll be back soon to take a good look at your ankle.’

      He was a complete and utter pleasure to work with, to be around, so much so that when Alison ducked into the staffroom for a ten-minute break later that morning, she wanted to turn tail and run, because it was just him in there and to be alone in his rather