INTO YOUR HANDS

Dear Friends

Happy New Year to you and your families! We have crossed over into 2020 riding on the wings of His Amazing Grace. I wish you every success and happiness in everything your hands work on. Stay blessed!

I have thought of starting the year with a return to the beginning of Part Two of my novel The Next of Kin. Let us go to the opening Chapter Five titled “Into Your Hands”, and is prefixed with a verse from the Book of Jonah in the Bible. In my novel, this chapter happens in January 1990. That's 30 years ago! We are in January, imagine it is happening now, refreshed. I want you to flow with this imaginative, climactic and eventful passage as a sick Father Angelo is flown from Mozambique to Zimbabwe where more revelations are already waiting....

Zimbabwe – 5 January 1990

“S

The Feast of the Epiphany of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

 taff Nurse Nicole! There you are!” Matron wiped her sweaty brow.

“I am so glad you have come back! I had a search party looking for you!”

“Did you really, Reverend Matron Josephine?” Staff Nurse Nicole asked very softly. Her emerald green eyes, brimming with tears, challenged the matron of St Michael’s Hospital. “I wish to resign with immediate effect!”

Before Matron could react, her emergency radio went off. She quickly reached into her pocket, pressed a button and spoke, “Operator?”

The operator’s voice came in loud and clear across the radio. “This is an emergency, a Code Blue. I repeat – a Code Blue. Message received from Control: There is a Catholic missionary from Mozambique arriving here via helicopter in two hours’ time. Italian missionary priest. Condition is critical… respiratory failure… unconscious… Diagnosis is uncertain… possible cerebral malaria.”

“Wait a minute! Who authorised this?” Matron demanded.

“Mr Davies, who is both the hospital consultant and superintendent of course!”

“That’s insane! Our hospital is a small private hospital, not a general and emergency. It does not have the critical care facilities!” Matron began walking furiously up and down the corridor.

“No! This case must be redirected to Avondale – to the Parirenyatwa General Hospital, or even to St Anne’s Hospital in Avondale! I override Mr Davies!”

“I am afraid that’s not possible, Matron. Avondale cannot cope. There has been a bus disaster and they are struggling to cope with the casualties. Mr Davies is already on his way down. One moment…”said the voice. “I have Mr Davies on the line…One moment, I will put Mr. Davies on…”

A deep masculine voice with a strong Australian accent drawled authoritatively, “Matron, all staff to go on stand-by for Plan Blue immediately! Patient on his way!”

“This is ludicrous! Where will the helicopter land? The hospital does not possess a heliport or even a helipad or even suitable roof access! Furthermore, in my entire time of being here at St Michael’s – all these thirty-three years -  we’ve never had a helicopter land here! Then, what next? Ours will be the only hospital in the entire world that has its own special runway!”

“I have already given instruction to security – I will explain the details later, Matron,” an exasperated nasal voice droned over the radio.

“They will soon commence clearing St Raphael’s Gate and create a makeshift heliport. And as there is no roof access, that site is perfect, being conveniently close enough to the loading lifts. Security has in fact made this suggestion themselves. All will soon be in place, believe it or not, Matron! Besides, St Michael’s occupies vast acres devoted to fruit trees and gardens and, yes, even ample space for a runway. This may just be the beginning of things to come! Oh, yes!”

“Mr Davies, may I insist?”

“No! You may not insist, Matron Josephine! I thought that St Michael’s was a Catholic-run hospital. A very critically ill Roman Catholic priest, totally incapacitated, is at our mercy, Matron! I don’t need to remind you that you are first and foremost a religious nun and then you are a matron and I am Superintendent of this hospital!”

“Superintendent, no doubt – but he also the death of me! He wants to turn my well-ordered hospital upside down and cause downright chaos!” fumed an agitated matron, switching off her radio with an impassioned click.

Nicole’s eyes grew wider as she listened to the conversation and watched the matron’s face flush hotly.

‘Well, then, Staff Nurse – don’t just stand there! There goes the emergency siren! We have to move it. I hope Mr. Davies will live to regret this day! He might find himself standing before the Papal court answering to the mismanagement of its Italian missionary priest. I would have something to say to the Pope! Indeed, I would!”

It seemed all hell had broken loose – legs appeared from every direction and responded to the matron’s commands. The emergency equipment was quickly transported to the heliport. A team composed of the hospital consultant – Mr Davies, two medical registrars, one senior medical officer and one junior doctor and a team of nurses, which included Matron Josephine and Staff Nurse Nicole, awaited the helicopter, while another team prepared the bed and equipment in a side room of St Anthony’s Wing.

At the makeshift heliport, the equipment went through a series of tests. Some of it had never been used and was still in its packaging and in need of quick assemblage. There were sighs of relief and jubilant high-fives all around when the devices seemed to function well.

***

The sound of a helicopter was soon audible; then the helicopter was visible. Everyone’s attention was focused on the silver helicopter before it landed on the heliport.

The door of the helicopter was flung open and three people emerged from it: two were medics who frantically wheeled the patient out on a stretcher – the third man was a Franciscan priest dressed in a long brown habit.

Mr Davies quickly assessed the patient’s condition. He looked lifeless, barely breathing and his pulse was weak and thready. Immediately, the consultant ordered the registrars to intubate and ventilate the patient whilst others set up an intravenous infusion and administered emergency medication. The two medics from Mozambique gave a quick hand over as the team sprang into action.

Nicole rushed over to secure the patient’s head during the intubation procedure. Tear welled up in her eyes. He looked more dead than alive.

This poor, poor priest!

Oh God! Let him live to do your will! She prayed, unaware that, as she spoke passionately from her heart, she instinctively made the Sign of the Cross over his forehead.

As she looked up, she met the gaze of the man in the Franciscan habit with a cincture tied across his waist. It was clear that he was a dear friend who was accompanying the patient from the mission, for he had tears in his eyes.

Nicole noticed that  he was carrying a small bag. He looked pleadingly at her and she reciprocated by looking briefly at him with deep compassion before reverting her full attention to this new arrival whose life hung between life and death.

The Franciscan priest squinted to see her name badge.

Staff Nurse Nicole Anderson.

“Suction,” said the registrar.

The tube was quickly put into position and secured.

“Nurse – connect bag. Start ventilations!”

Nicole immediately initiated the life-saving breaths by squeezing the manual resuscitator bag that was connected to a small oxygen cylinder. However, an unexpected problem was encountered with the emergency equipment and a desperate commotion ensued.

Meanwhile, there was a second commotion…

 

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What happens as the hospital is seized by panic? Grab a copy and finish the story. Feel free to comment on this extract. Thank you so much and until we meet again in the next post, Cheers!

- Olivia