‘I do,’ he said. ‘Come in.’
‘Aunt Macey has just gone for an occupational therapy assessment,’ Catherine said. ‘It’s nice to see her walking again.’ She took a seat and then looked at Steele. ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it...?’ she said, and her eyes filled up with tears.
‘No, no.’ Immediately Steele put her at ease. ‘I haven’t called you in to break bad news about your aunt’s health.’ He watched her let out a huge breath of relief. ‘Her physical health anyway,’ Steele amended. ‘But as you know, Macey’s been depressed.’
‘She seems to be getting better, though,’ Catherine said. ‘The tablets seem to be starting to work.’
‘They are,’ Steele said. ‘She’s talking a bit more and engaging with the staff. The thing is,’ he said, ‘it isn’t just medication that your aunt needs at the moment. She’s asked that I speak with you. There’s something that’s upsetting her greatly and it’s been pressing on her mind.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Your aunt has something she wishes to discuss with you, a secret that she has kept for many, many years, and it’s one she doesn’t want you to find out about after her death...’ He told her that Macey had had a baby more than fifty years ago and that he’d been given up for adoption at birth, but Catherine kept shaking her head, unable to take in the news. ‘We’d have known.’
‘Very few people knew,’ Steele said. ‘That’s what it was like in those days.’
‘But my aunt’s not like that...’ Catherine said, and then caught herself. ‘When I say that, I mean she’s so incredibly strict—she’s always saying that women should save themselves and...’ She stopped talking and simply sat there as she took the news in. ‘Poor Aunt Macey. How can we help?’
‘I think speak with Linda and then perhaps you can both come in together. Talk it over with Macey, maybe ask if she wants to look for her son, or if she simply wants it left. Her fear is that you’ll find out after her death, whenever that may be, and you might judge her.’
‘Never.’
‘I know it’s a shock,’ he said.
‘It is.’ Catherine smiled. ‘My mother would have had a fit if she knew. Is that why she’s been depressed?’
‘I think it’s a big part of it,’ Steele said. ‘Maybe when she’s got it off her chest and spoken with her family, things can really start to improve.’
He was about to head down to Emergency to check to see if his new admission had arrived, but before he left he quickly checked some lab results and then scrolled through his emails. Then he checked the intramail as they were hounding him to go and get another security shot for his lanyard. He saw an alert that the Emergency Department had been placed on bypass and let out a sigh of frustration, because he really didn’t want his patient ending up in another hospital.
He clicked on the intramail and, for a man who dealt with death extremely regularly, for a man who usually knew what to do in any given situation, Steele simply didn’t have a clue how to handle this.
We are greatly saddened to inform staff of the sudden death of Gerard (Gerry) O’Connor, a senior nurse in the Emergency Department.
Gerry passed away after sustaining a head injury in Greece. Currently the Emergency Department has been placed on bypass as his close colleagues process the news.
He blinked when his pager bleeped and saw that his patient had, in fact, arrived in Emergency.
Steele considered paging Donald, his registrar, to take it. He wanted some time to get his head around things.
Yet he wanted to see how Candy was.
Steele walked into the war zone of Emergency. Resus was in shambles, though some staff, called down from the wards, were trying to tidy it up.
There were just a few staff around and he was surprised when, after checking the board, he walked into the cubicle where his patient was, to see Candy checking Mr Elber’s observations.
‘I’m Steele,’ he said to his patient.
‘Dr Steele, if you want to be formal.’ Candy smiled at the elderly man as she checked his blood pressure. She was trying to keep her voice light but Steele could hear the shaken notes to it.