Pulse(73)

First Dick McGee. Now Jason Conway.

Who would believe that was a coincidence?

I went over to him.

‘Hello, Jason, what seems to be the problem?’

He looked at me but seemingly without any recognition.

‘No problem,’ he said, trying to get up.

But his words were slightly slurred.

Concussion. I knew. I’d been there.

‘Just lie down and let me examine you,’ I said.

I could tell that he wasn’t keen. ‘I’m OK,’ he insisted.

‘Jason,’ I said firmly, ‘I will need to examine you and if you refuse I will have to stand you down from riding anyway.’

I wasn’t sure that his brain was in a position to work out the logic but he stopped trying to get to his feet and lay back on the grass.

‘Which horse were you riding?’ I asked as I knelt down beside him.

He looked up at me blankly without answering.

‘Where are you?’ I asked.

‘At the races,’ he said confidently.

‘Which racecourse?’

Again there was no answer.

I turned to the paramedics. ‘Put a neck collar on him and we’ll take him on a stretcher to the medical room. We’ll decide there but I strongly suspect he’ll need to go to hospital for a scan.’

While the paramedics collected their stretcher I examined Jason for any other injuries but there were none I could see. That didn’t mean there weren’t any. Unseen injuries were often the most dangerous.

To say that there was pandemonium in the medical room when I arrived back would not be an exaggeration. The two beds plus the physiotherapist’s table were already occupied by injured jockeys, hidden from view by the blue privacy curtains, and Jason Conway was still outside in the ambulance being cared for by the paramedics.

‘Bloody hell,’ Adrian said. ‘It’s like Piccadilly Circus in the rush hour. Speak to me.’

‘Ellie Lowe has a suspected broken fibula,’ I said. ‘Dick McGee took a blow to his back and initially couldn’t feel his legs but some sensation and movement returned while I was with him. I’ve also got Jason Conway outside in the ambulance with suspected concussion. He couldn’t stand properly and didn’t know where he was or which horse he’d been riding. I think he should go for a scan.’

‘OK,’ Adrian said, taking a deep breath. ‘Ellie Lowe is having a support bandage fitted but will have to go to hospital, so will Jason Conway. Both to Cheltenham General. Dick McGee says he’s now fine and all sensation and movement have returned to normal and he should be able to ride in the fourth race. It’s as much as I can do to keep him lying down. I’ve told him if he gets up, I’ll sign him off riding for a month.’

‘I still think he should go for a scan, to be on the safe side,’ I said. ‘Who’s in the other one?’ I nodded towards the blue curtains nearest the door.

‘Mike Sheraton,’ Adrian said. ‘Gashed his right knee. The nurse is just putting in a few stitches. He’ll be fine.’

I stared at him in disbelief.

Dick McGee, Jason Conway and Mike Sheraton, the three jockeys I had vowed to have nothing to do with, were all here, and all injured.





27


‘Jockeys, five minutes,’ came the call through the changing room loudspeaker system.

The next race.

‘Can we cope?’ Jack Otley said to Adrian.

‘We’ll have to,’ he said. ‘There are only eight runners in this one. Jack, you and I will be out on the course. Chris, you stay here to monitor our guests but listen out on the radio in case you’re needed. With one ambulance stuck outside with Jason Conway, we still have three available. That’s more than enough. Let’s just hope we have no fallers this time.’

Adrian knew fully well that we needed to act according to our clinical decisions and not allow financial or racing operational considerations to override our judgement. But, equally, we wouldn’t be thanked if we cancelled racing for no good reason.

‘We do need to send Lowe, McGee and Conway to hospital,’ I said.

‘Could one ambulance take all three at once?’ Adrian asked.

I shook my head. ‘I think both Jason Conway and Dick McGee should be kept horizontal. Ellie Lowe could sit on a seat as long as her left leg is up.’

‘Then call for an off-course ambulance,’ Adrian said, picking up his red doctor’s bag. ‘Use that and the one outside.’

‘I’d really like to go with them,’ I said. ‘I don’t trust either McGee or Conway not to simply walk away at the other end.’

‘Threaten them with a long suspension if they do.’

He started for the door but was blocked by Rupert Forrester coming in.

‘Everything all right in here?’ he asked, standing in the doorway. ‘I hear we’ve had several injuries after that race.’

‘Yes, Rupert, we have,’ Adrian replied. ‘But we’re coping.’ He sounded a lot more confident than I was.

‘So racing can continue?’

‘Absolutely,’ Adrian replied. ‘We meet the minimum requirement.’

‘Good,’ Rupert said. He started to leave but turned back. ‘Who’s actually in here?’ he asked, indicating towards the blue curtains.