Gentleman Sinner(108)
‘Miss, he’s gone,’ the nurse says gently, his hands paused on the wires.
‘He moved.’
‘That’s not unusual.’
‘He moved,’ I yell, squeezing Theo’s hand, mentally encouraging another one.
‘Miss, we know about spinal reflexes. It happens often after a passing.’
‘It wasn’t a spinal reflex,’ I yell frantically, turning to one of the nurses who was giving Theo chest compressions. ‘He moved because I touched him. All of his movements when you brought him in were because you were all touching him. He doesn’t like being touched.’ I release Theo’s hand and rush over to the nurse, grabbing the front of his uniform. I’m aware this could be considered assaulting a staff member, but I don’t care if they throw me in jail for ten years. He moved. ‘Please, try again,’ I demand, my deranged behaviour sending the room quiet. ‘Please, I beg you. He’s still got life in him.’
The nurse flicks his eyes over to his colleague, then to Theo on the bed as I wait what seems like a lifetime for him to give in to my demand. Yes or no, Theo will be getting more CPR. I’ll do it myself if I have to. Seconds tick by, and I give up waiting for him to decide whether he’s going to try. I run across to do it myself, my hands looking so small against Theo’s chest as I start pumping. I’m out of breath after a few seconds, my strength pitiful as I sob through my weak attempts.
‘Move,’ the nurse says, pushing his way past me. ‘We need some weight behind the compressions.’
So much air leaves my lungs, they hurt. He glances at the monitor as he puts his hands into position, and I can see the doubt in his eyes. But he starts pumping anyway, his jaw tight. He’s exhausted; there’s a sheen of sweat coating his face. He doesn’t ask for someone to take over. He carries on, small grunts escaping with each compression. ‘Come on,’ he whispers. The grey skin of Theo’s face and the blackness of his sockets seem to darken before my eyes as I wait, a lump that feels like a tennis ball settling in my throat. All three of us stare at the flat line, seeing no change, and I start to build my plea for another round of compressions. For more drugs. Anything. My joined hands come up to my face, praying.
And then it happens. What I’ve prayed for actually happens.
The line jumps.
My hands fall away from my face, my eyes burning, refusing to blink in case I miss it.
Another jump. ‘Oh my God,’ I breathe, tripping over my feet to get to the bed. My dark world gets an injection of life. Another jump. I grab Theo’s hand, stroking at his sallow cheeks. ‘Theo.’
‘Fucking hell,’ the nurse breathes, and I look to him, my eyes welling. He looks like a ghost. ‘I can’t believe it.’ He staggers back, scrubbing his hands down his face.
‘I told you,’ I say, trying not to get too far ahead of myself. I just knew it. I knew he was strong. There’s a burst of activity behind me, and I look back to see most of the staff have returned, all of them taking in the scene before looking at the heart monitor. I follow their stares and see a regular, strengthening beat. I cough over a sob, snivelling as I place my palm over his heart and his tattoo, and feel the beats, too.
Urgency springs into the nurses and they all crowd around, pulling machinery from here and there, and trollies loaded with medical equipment. When one grabs Theo’s arm, he jerks violently, and she curses, dropping the needle she’s trying to get into the back of his hand. She’ll never get that line in. ‘He doesn’t like being touched,’ I say, watching her throw the needle in a medical waste bin and grab another from a new, sterilized packet. She looks at my hand on Theo’s chest. ‘Except by me,’ I add, my elation lifting more. He’s unconscious, yet he still knows it’s me. His movements when I touched him before weren’t just because I was touching him. He was speaking to me when he couldn’t talk. ‘I’m a nurse,’ I explain, removing one hand from Theo and indicating down my front to my uniform. ‘I work here. I can do that.’
She peeks up at me before going back to Theo’s hand and trying again. ‘Thanks, but I’ve got it.’ He jerks again, and she curses, tossing yet another wasted needle into the yellow bin after she’s picked it up from the floor.
I gather myself, trying not to lose my patience, and circle the bed, collecting a needle. ‘We haven’t got time for your over-grown ego,’ I mutter, grabbing some gloves and pulling them on quickly. I take Theo’s arm, and he doesn’t even flinch. I slide the needle into the back of his hand, hitting the spot the first time. Blood gushes into the capped vial, and I breathe out, holding my hand out for the plaster. ‘Thank you,’ I say, placing it over the cannula and resting his arm by his side. ‘When you connect the line, don’t touch him.’ I make my way around the bed again, to another nurse, who has just pulled in a trolley loaded with everything she needs to take his vitals.
She smiles at me, though it’s tinged with sadness. ‘The doctor’s on her way. I’m sure you don’t need them to tell you that there’s a high chance of brain damage.’
I return her small smile, turning to Theo. ‘He’s going to be fine,’ I say, because there’s no doubt in my mind that he will be. He knows I’m here. He felt my touch. He fought harder for me. He’s going to be fine.