Billionaire Doctor (House of Kolovsky) - Carol Marinelli Page 0,8

they rolled the stretcher along the polished floor. ‘Liver cancer with secondary mets. Started seizing at home, private nurse present, she’s just giving details at Reception. The wife’s following in a car. He was given diazepam but...’ He didn’t need to elaborate as the frail body on the stretcher started convulsing again, the grey tinge to his face becoming more deeply cyanosed as the paramedic wrestled with the straps and the patient was lifted over.

Annie transferred the portable oxygen to the wall outlet and was attaching monitors as Jackie, seeing what was going on, kicked over the drug trolley and started pulling up drugs. ‘Thanks, guys,’ Jackie said as the paramedics, always happy to help out, held a jerking arm still while she administered anti-seizure medication.

They continued to relay the story. ‘He’s supposed to have been transferred to a palliative care ward of a private hospital, but the wife wants him at home. He’s been having prolonged seizures but they normally respond to the diazepam. This one went on for ages and the wife wanted him brought in.’

‘We need a full history,’ Annie called after Geoff, who was heading to register the patient at Reception. ‘Tell whoever’s on Reception to drop everything, that we need it urgently. Do you want an anesthetist?’ she asked Jackie.

‘Let’s get the history first,’ Jackie said. ‘I don’t want to intubate him if it turns out he’s not for resuscitation.’

‘One other thing.’ Eric, the second paramedic, was sweating with the exertion of holding the arm still as Jackie shot in more drugs. ‘The wife says that his son’s a doctor here. This is Ivan Kolovsky… you know, the fashion designer?’

Jackie’s eyes met Annie’s just as Beth breezed in. ‘Need a hand?’

‘Where’s Iosef?’ Jackie asked, adding more medication to an IV flask as Annie suctioned Ivan’s airway. His eyes had rolled back in his head, his body exhausted from seizing for so long.

‘On his way. He was just talking to the thoracics. Why?’

‘Meet Mr Kolovsky!’ Jackie said with a dry edge. ‘Annie, you go and tell Iosef what’s happening—preferably before he walks in here. Beth—give me a hand.’

Clearly Iosef hadn’t hung around to make small talk with the thoracics because as Annie sped out of Emergency, hoping to meet him in the corridor and forewarn him, they practically collided at the glass automatic doors.

‘Iosef...’ Annie called as he marched past without even a cursory glance. ‘Can I have a word?’

‘I’m busy.’ He didn’t even turn his head to call it over his shoulder.

‘I need to talk to you!’ she snapped loudly, angry that he made everything so difficult, angry that he was so rude, and nervous at what she had to tell him!

‘Well, make it quick. I have a lot of work.’

He just stood there—stood there right in the middle of the corridor, didn’t move near a wall, didn’t duck into a quieter area, didn’t do a single thing to make it easier—just tapped his well-shod foot impatiently as Annie took a deep breath. ‘Could we go somewhere a bit more private?’

‘Why?’ He frowned.

‘Because I need to discuss a patient with you.’ Her cheeks were burning under his scrutiny and out of the comer of her eye and behind his shoulder she could see a rather glamorous mob spilling into Reception, who had to be related to him! ‘And I don’t think the corridor’s a very appropriate place.’

He gave her a thoroughly bored, thoroughly superior look as if to say there was nothing she could possibly tell him that he didn’t already know, but at least he did take a few sideways steps into the IV cupboard and stood there shrugged up against the wall as Annie closed the door and flicked on the light.

‘Your father’s just been brought in.’ Direct and straight to the point she gave him the news and equally as direct and straight to the point he asked her a question.

‘Is he dead?’

‘No, but he’s convulsing and we’re having a lot of trouble stopping that.’ She watched his face for a reaction, but it was utterly unreadable, and in all her years of nursing, all the times she’d broken bad news or difficult news or any sort of news, never, not even once, had anyone shown so little response—not a single flick of his eyes, not one tense swallow. Annie could only liken it to dashing to the shops at six p.m. and finding a ‘Closed’ sign on the door, not a ‘Back in five’ sign, not even ‘Back tomorrow’. Peering into