His gaze flicked to Delia. ‘Of course.’
Then he turned back to the patient and Nat felt thoroughly dismissed. Had she had time she might have been miffed but her patient caught her attention. ‘Super-Nurse, hey?’ he croaked behind his oxygen mask.
Nat dragged her gaze from the back of Alessandro’s head to assess the patient. He was sweaty and grey with massiveSTchanges on his monitor. Multiple ectopic beats were worrying and, as she watched, a short run of ventricular tachycardia interrupted his rhythm.
His heart muscle was dying.
He was also in pain despite the morphine that she noted had already been administered, but despite all that, there was still a twinkle in his bright eyes. He was obviously one of those stoic old men who didn’t believe in complaining too much.
‘Yes, sir.’ She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘That’s me. To the rescue.’
The patient gave a weak chuckle. ‘Ernie,’ he puffed out. ‘Looks like I’m in safe hands.’
Nat glanced at Alessandro. She hoped so. She hoped he was better at doctoring than he was at communicating. Atfathering. ‘The very best.’
‘What’s theETAon theCCUdocs?’ Alessandro asked, his gaze fixed on the monitor.
‘Couple of minutes,’ came from somewhere behind.
There was a tension to the man’s frame that spoke more than any words and Nat could see why. Ernie’sECGwas showing the evolution of a massive inferior myocardial infarction. Aglance at his chart told her they were administering the right drugs to halt the progress of the heart attack but these patients were notoriously unstable, and with age against Ernie, Nat understood Alessandro’s tension.
A quick flick of his dark gaze in her direction and she saw his concern. Alessandro was clearly not liking the way this was heading. And, with good reason, as it turned out. Not two minutes later, Ernie’s monitor alarm split through the activity around the bed and he lost consciousness.
‘VF,’ Nat announced as the green line on the screen developed into a series of frenetic squiggles. Her own heart rate spiked as a charge of adrenaline shot through her system like vodka on an empty stomach.
‘CommenceCPR,’ Alessandro ordered. ‘I’ll intubate. Adrenaline please and get some defib pads in situ.’
Nat, being the closest, hiked the skirt of her uniform up her thighs as she climbed on to the narrow gurney. She planted her knees wide and balanced on the edge of the mattress – a feat she’d performed a little too often – as she started compressions.
Any ill will she may have been harbouring towards Dr Lombardi fizzled in an instant at the totally professional way he ran the code. It was textbook. But that wasn’t doing him justice. It was more than textbook. He didn’t see a seventy-two-year-old man and give up after a few minutes. He gave Ernie every chance.
It wasn’t until the down time reached thirty minutes that he finally called it.
Placing his hands on Nat’s, stilling their downward trajectory, he said, ‘Thank you.’ Then he looked at the clock. ‘Time of death fourteen twenty-five hours.’
Nat looked down at his hands. She could just see her own through the gloved fingers of his. She noticed for the first timehis sleeves were rolled back to reveal the dark hair of his bronzed forearms and she absently thought how strong they looked.
She glanced at him and their eyes locked, a strange solidarity uniting them. His gaze turned bleak, and she knew in this moment of finality and rapidly depleting adrenaline that he was as affected by Ernie’s death as she. A beat passed, then another before he shuttered his eyes and removed his hands, extending one to help her off the gurney.
Dragging her gaze from him, Nat accepted it, easing back to the floor, her knees nearly buckling as she snatched her hand back, grabbing for the edge of the trolley to steady herself.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked as he watched her wobble slightly.
Nat rubbed her at her knees. ‘Fine.’
Except, staring down at Ernie, she knew she wasn’t. Ernie was dead. It didn’t matter that she had known Ernie for less than an hour – he was still dead. Gone. The twinkle in his eyes extinguished forever. In fact, if anything, it was worse that she didn’t know him. It was wrong that a person should die surrounded by strangers.
So, no, she wasn’tfine. She was, as always in these situations, overwhelmingly sad.
Nodding curtly, he said, ‘We need to talk to his family.’
It was an order, not a request, backed up by his cold onyx gaze, no trace of the humanity she’d glimpsed a moment ago. Had she imagined that? ‘Sure.’
Her tummy growled again and she bargained with it for another half an hour.
As he strode ahead of her, Nat hustled to keep up with the coolly efficient Italian, worrying about his ability to communicate such devastating news. Sure, the view was good – ass-hugging trousers and a shirt that barely contained the broadness of his back – but none of that meant he was remotely equipped to talk to grieving relatives.
He was, after all, still grieving himself. Had Ernie’s death stirred the embers of Alessandro’s sorrow?
