The cold wind against Bess’s face as she stood on the helipad at the hospital was a good reminder that winter was on its way. She did the handover to the hospital staff of a male patient in his nineties who’d fallen down some steps at the local sports centre and hit his head. Lucky for them, the sports centre had an enormous rugby pitch and so landing Hilda had been easy for Maya, they’d got to the patient quickly and were here at the trauma centre eight minutes after taking off from the accident location.
‘All clear and available,’ Bess called through to the HEMS desk once she was back on board the aircraft and Hilda lifted into the air. At least it was a fine day without much cloud, and as they came in over the Whistlestop River, the sun reflected off its surface.
Bess loved her job, had a real passion for it. She’d been approaching the end of her school years and, after a work experience stint with the ambulance service, made her decision. She wanted to work in emergency care. She read up on different courses offered around the country and it was paramedic science that caught her eye. She’d done her degree, qualified as aparamedic, worked the job for a while and then, when she was hungry for more, she’d studied to become a critical care paramedic and never looked back.
‘Always stunning,’ Maya beamed as she flew over the river and took the crew back to base. ‘We’re going to try stand-up paddle boarding in the summer, aren’t we, Noah?’
‘Affirmative,’ he called into his headset from the rear of the aircraft.
‘I’ll bet that’s peaceful,’ said Bess as they passed above the town. ‘Well, unless you fall in, of course.’
Back at the base, as the whir of the blades came to a stop, Bess resisted the urge to look at her phone. She knew there’d be at least a few texts from her mum. Her mum was desperate to talk about Malcolm; Bess would rather put it off as long as possible.
The night of the accident, Bess had gone back to base with the crew but as soon as they got there, Kate from the blue team subbed for her so she could go to the hospital to be with her mother.
It was always weird going into a hospital not in a work capacity but as a relative, even when her relative had only been taken in as a precaution.
Bess found her mum sitting in one of the beds, eating a sandwich. Relief. She really was all right.
‘How are you doing?’ Bess hugged her and then sat on the nearby chair while she finished her food.
‘I don’t really want this but the nurses said I need to eat.’
‘They’re right, you do.’
Bess turned as one of the nurses came over.
The nurse took in her uniform. ‘Ah, you’re with the air ambulance; your mother has been telling us all about her wonderful daughter, the lifesaving work you do.’
Bess smiled. ‘Right back at you – we’re all one big team.’
‘That we are,’ the nurse said, then she was right down to business. ‘I’ve been in contact with the trauma centre.’ Because of his injuries, Malcolm would have been taken elsewhere for the specialist care. ‘This is the number should you wish to call them yourself but Malcolm is doing fine – concussion, bruising, a few cuts from glass but other than that, he is one very lucky man.’ She passed Fiona a piece of paper with a number on it.
Fiona put a hand against her chest. ‘Oh, thank goodness. Can I go to see him?’
The nurse opened her mouth but Bess took it from there.
‘Mum, not tonight. It’s really late; I need to get you home.’
‘She’s right,’ the nurse agreed and Bess appreciated the back-up because when her mum set her mind on something, it was difficult to get her to change course. Bess should know; she was the same way. ‘I’ve got your discharge letter ready; you’re good to go. You get yourself home, love, and you can go and see Malcolm in the morning.’
Or maybe a couple of days, thought Bess.
But when the nurse left, Fiona was already taking her phone from her bag.
‘Mum, if he has concussion, he’ll be sleeping.’
‘He will?’
‘He’ll sleep a lot, it’s the body’s way of recovering, so leave it for now; let’s get you sorted.’
It was only when they were in the car and driving away that Fiona burst into tears.
Bess pulled over. She hadn’t even got out of the hospital car park. She put an arm around her mum’s shoulders, held her for a moment and then found a tissue from the container in the glovebox.
Fiona took the tissue. ‘I’m sorry, love.’ She made that soundwhere you are trying your best not to cry but can’t quite manage it.
‘No need to apologise.’
