The Viscount – Chapter Fourteen

THE VISCOUNT OF MAISONS LAFFITTE

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The ambulance screeched to a halt in front of CHI Poissy hospital. The driver leapt down and opened the back door, while the attendant inside unsecured the gurney and pushed the end forward so that it could be carried down. Chastity jumped down from the ambulance and promptly fell to the pavement. She had no strength in her knees, and it was only by sheer will that she was able to get up again and run after them.

The first responders pushed the gurney between them, shoving the swinging doors open with a bang as they brought their charge through. A triage nurse met them.

“Seven year old boy with a severe concussion. He’s unconscious.

“What happened?”

“He was hit by a car.”

“Get Docteur Bellamy in here,” the triage nurse yelled to an aide that was stationed nearby. She begin cutting off Thomas’ clothes, and prepping him to draw blood. The neurologist was not long in appearing.

“What do we have here?” The details were repeated to him as the triage nurse inserted an IV, while another nurse placed the monitors on the boy’s chest and forehead. After a brief glance at his vitals, the doctor said. “Let’s get a CAT-scan.”

As they pushed the gurney through another set of doors, the nurse finally turned to Chastity, and saying kindly, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait in the waiting room over there. You’re not allowed in this section, but we will give you news as soon as we have it.” The nurse pressed Chastity’s arm, and she was forced to acquiesce.

The doctor examined the screens as the inert patient was being scanned through the hollow white tunnel. “We’ll need to relieve the cranial pressure,” he said, shaking his head. ‘I’d be more comfortable getting a pediatric neurologist in here since he’s so young.” Then, speaking decisively, “Page Docteur Toussaint.”

The triage nurse replied, “Docteur Toussaint is at a conference this whole week. There’s another doctor who’s covering for him while he’s away. He’s normally on leave …”

“Has he retained his hospital privileges?” Upon being assured that he had, the doctor yelled “Get him in here.”

Chastity remembered how the doors banged mutely as they wheeled her son into a section of the hospital out of sight. She numbly walked over to where the waiting room was indicated and looked for a seat. The floor was blue, and the chairs were orange plastic. The fluorescent lighting was only slightly muted. An older couple sat across from her, the wife’s hand tucked into the husband’s arm. She glanced at Chastity sympathetically, but didn’t say anything. A teenager bounced his knee up and down rhythmically, absorbed in a video game. She sat stiffly on the chair nearest to the door.

She couldn’t cry. It wasn’t the lack of privacy that prevented her. It was the horror. She was conscious of feeling icy cold and burning hot all at once, and there was a lump in her throat that prevented her from swallowing or speaking. She sat, racing through the scene again and again.

Here kitty, kitty …

Mom, if I thought a kid was in trouble …

Hold on sweetie.

Oh, if only she could go back and pull his attention away from the cat so he didn’t run into the street. Over and over her thoughts turned. The cat, Tommy No! The screech. His lifeless form.

The winter sun began to set outside, making the fluorescent lights seem even more harsh. The short wait was already interminable.

While it was still early morning, the Viscount walked briskly through the corridors on his way to the pediatric ward. He stopped at the nurse’s station to pull his chart, and ran his finger down the notes from yesterday’s surgery.

“Bonjour Docteur.” An attractive nurse smiled up at him. He looked at her frowningly and muttered bonjour before walking slowly over to the ICU recovery area. The progress for his young patient was far from certain and he saw that not all of the cranial pressure had been alleviated.

“Ah! You’re here! Bonjour Docteur.” He looked up at the sound of Anna Garcia’s voice, a dynamic, middle-aged woman, and his favorite nurse in the hospital.

“Hello Anna,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “I see everyone is still keeping you busy.”

“Aw, now that my own children are grown and out of the house, I need some other ones to look after,” she said with a grin.

“On top of the pediatric cases,” he teased. She had a reputation for being no-nonsense with the more belligerent patients, and they were always the older ones.

“Right you are.” She laughed heartily. “When will we have you back full-time at the hospital?”

“I’m halfway through my year-and-a-half sabbatical, so not for another nine months.”

“We sure miss you around here. Docteur Toussaint is great, of course, but you know he’s married. And old,” she said impressively.

The Viscount couldn’t help but laugh. Anna was only fifteen years his senior, but she mothered him just enough that he didn’t feel toad-eaten, and nothing missed her sharp observation. It was impossible to escape the level attention he received from the inebriating combination of looks, a medical degree, and a title.

“I’ve been meaning to stop by to ask how my intern is doing,” the Viscount said.

Anna smiled and sighed as she reached for the supplies that she had pulled from the supply closet. “I wish there were more like him. He doesn’t put on any airs, and you can tell that his concern for the patients is genuine. It’s too bad he’s only here for a few months.”

“Hm. I’m glad to hear he’s doing well. If he continues to be a good fit, perhaps he’ll apply here,” the Viscount said briskly, already impatient to move on. “Now, for our young patient in Room A. I see your notes here. I’ll take a look at the ICP sensor and see if we need to schedule a craniectomy. Who has been with him?”

“His mother hasn’t left his side. I don’t have the sense that she gets much support.”

 “Alright. Well, I’m on my way there now.” He closed the chart with a snap, and walked down the corridor past two open rooms, one of which was empty, before reaching the correct room. He entered it, his eyes on his young patient’s still form.

A slender woman, with long Auburn curls that hid her face, was leaning on the bed, her forehead resting on hands clasped in prayer. Almost immediately she turned towards him, lifting a tear-stained face, and wiping her nose on her sleeve.

He stopped short in surprise, but she was the first to speak.

“You!” She leapt to her feet, her voice incredulous. He was unable to reply for a moment.

Of course!  Thomas Whitmore was this woman’s son. How did he not make that connection as soon as he saw the name? There couldn’t be that many Whitmores in Ile de France. She looked different than she did at the school, though – vulnerable, young. In the morning sunlight that filtered through the half-closed blinds, he could see that, though her nose was red from crying, her eyes were a brilliant green.

He collected himself. “Good morning Madamoiselle. I apologize for being unable to brief you on your son’s progress last night, but I was called into another emergency. Did you understand everything Docteur Bellamy said?”

“Um yes. Yes … I understand that the pressure in his skull …” Here she choked a bit, and seemed to be trying to master her emotions. She cleared her throat and then continued. “I understand that the pressure has been relieved, and that I shouldn’t expect him to wake up right away. And, but … that I can’t be certain he will wake up?

The Viscount didn’t respond straight away. With his eyes still on her, he spoke kindly, “Please. Sit down,” gesturing towards the chair she had just been occupying, while he went to the unoccupied room and pulled a chair from there.

Before he could take a seat, her words came tumbling out in confusion. “I’m sorry, Mr de Chabot. I don’t understand how you came to be here. You’re not a doctor?”

“Is that so surprising?” he asked with the hint of a smile. It was the first time his face showed something akin to warmth.

“No, it’s just that I didn’t think you did anything.”

The Viscount hesitated before saying, “I am comforted to know that you have such a high opinion of me.” He looked down at the patient’s chart, hiding a somewhat rueful smile.

“No, no. I mean … I thought owning a château was a full-time job, and that if you did anything, it would be to manage your estate. I just have a hard time seeing you here … it’s all so unexpected.” She reached over to the bedside table and whisked a tissue out of the generic box there, wiping her face and blowing her nose.

“I don’t know why I’m bringing all this up. Of course it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. I’m not myself,” she added in a watery voice.

“On the contrary,” the Viscount replied. “I find you to be much more in possession of yourself than most parents are in your situation.” She looked at him quickly, trying to understand what he meant, but he continued in a more professional voice without elaborating. “Docteur Bellamy was correct, but I think it’s too soon to look at the worst case scenario.”

At those words, tears started trickling down her cheeks again. “He’s all I have,” Chastity said in little more than a whisper. The Viscount, who thought himself immune to the emotions of the families he dealt with was moved; but he didn’t say anything. She blew her nose and then stood up abruptly again. The Viscount read the agitation in her gesture and followed suit.

“Let me have a look at his catheter,” he said. He went over and examined that and ICP sensor, his face unreadable. He looked over his notes again and pressed his lips together before saying, “There is a possibility we will have to temporarily remove part of the skull to allow the brain tissue to expand. I know such a procedure sounds terrifying, but if the pressure in his skull becomes too great, it will be the best course of action.”

“Oh, oh … okay. I didn’t know this could …” Chastity had trouble forming the words to match her patent horror at the idea of such a procedure. Finally she looked up, her eyes troubled. “Is this what the other doctors recommend?”

“It is simply the standard procedure, Mademoiselle.” The Viscount said this, not unkindly. He leaned over and put his hand on the boys arm. “What is his first language?” he asked her.

“English,” she answered.

He brought the chair up to the side of the bed, and again laid his hand on Thomas’ arm. “Good morning, Thomas,” he said in nearly perfect English. “You’ve had a car accident, and you’re in the hospital where we are taking very good care of you. My name is Docteur de Chabot, and your mother is here too. You just rest as long as you need. The important thing is for you to get better.”

With that, he stood up and turned to face Mlle Whitmore. She offered him a tremulous smile in return. “Thank you for taking such good care of my son,” she managed.

“Don’t lose hope,” he said. “Do you have anyone here who can support you?”

“Um. I have a couple of colleagues … I think you know Elizabeth Moore?” She looked up at him and the Viscount nodded. “She stopped by early this morning.”

“Alright. I will be back tomorrow morning then, unless there is a change in his … ”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a bustle in the corridor as a young man – well-dressed, but with dissipated features, and smelling strongly of smoke – rushed into the room. “Chassy! You should have called me immediately! Oh my God. Thomas! How is he? Oh, bonjour Docteur. Comment va-t’il?” He switched to French when he saw the doctor standing there.

“And you are?” the Viscount proffered.

“I am the boy’s father,” he replied promptly. He stepped back and put his arm around Mlle Whitmore’s waist. Her face was drained of color, but otherwise remained expressionless.

“I see. A catheter has been put in to relieve pressure from the swelling of his brain, and we’re monitoring it.” There was no trace of the previous warmth in the Viscount’s face. “Mademoiselle.” He nodded towards her. “I will see you tomorrow.”

He swept out of the room, and as he was leaving, heard the man’s voice saying, “Well he’s not very friendly, is he?”

And without waiting for an answer, “So. What happened?

* * * * *

I want to give an extra-special thanks and shout out to my friend Dr Deborah Gilboa @AskDocG, who answered my medical questions – even skyping with me while rushing from one terminal to another. Not only is she an amazing friend, but (more importantly) an amazing doctor, mother, and parenting expert. You can follow her advice snippets on YouTube, and buy her book How to Get the Behavior You Want Without Becoming the Parent You Hate by clicking here.

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