Leah Martyn

A Mother for His Baby


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track.’

      Samara’s pretty mouth flattened in resignation. ‘Bang go my ham and pineapple pizzas, then. The bases are all made from wheat flour for sure. And toast! I love my toast!’

      ‘Hang on.’ Brady raised a hand in a halting motion. ‘Maybe not…’ He picked up his phone and depressed the number he’d memorised. ‘Ah, Jo, sorry to bother you.’ He explained why he was calling and listened for a moment. ‘Thanks for that,’ he said, before clipping the receiver back on its cradle. ‘Samara, you’re in luck.’ His head came up and he smiled. ‘Apparently the baker in the arcade makes a gluten-free bread for special customers, but you’ll need to order it in advance.’

      A tiny dimple flickered in Samara’s cheek. ‘So I can have my toast?’

      ‘Probably.’ Brady handed the referral letter to his patient and got to his feet to see her out. ‘But to be on the safe side, perhaps run it past the dietitian when you see her, OK?’

      Brady ploughed on through his patient list, pleased he’d got through by one o’clock when the surgery officially closed for lunch.

      He was feeling reasonably upbeat about his morning. He’d managed pretty well, he decided, and had coped without bugging his colleagues too much. Except for his query to Jo, he’d only had to double-check the name of a drug with Angelo before he’d prescribed it. In Canada the drug in question had been dispensed under another brand name entirely. Much better to make sure.

      Tom and Jo were already in the staffroom when Brady made his way in. ‘Still in one piece, mate?’ Tom quipped, his nose buried in the sports section of the local paper.

      ‘And intending to stay that way,’ Brady quipped back. ‘Thanks for your help earlier, by the way.’ He turned towards Jo, who was trying to find the beginning of a new roll of clingfilm.

      ‘That’s OK. Oh!’ With a yelp of frustration she thrust the lot at Brady. ‘See if you can get it started. It hates me!’

      He chuckled and took the offending box of cling film. ‘About lunch,’ he said, painstakingly setting about unravelling the mangled film. ‘Do we bring our own or what?’

      ‘We do a communal thing,’ Jo said. ‘Vicki collects money from us each week and then shops for fresh bread and various sandwich fillings. Just help yourself to anything in the fridge.’

      Intent on his task, Brady continued, ‘So I pay Vicki, then?’

      Tom sniggered. ‘She’ll hunt you down, mate. Never fear. Jo, are you doing me a sandwich?’

      ‘I wouldn’t think so.’

      Tom got up and peered over her shoulder at the cutting board. ‘So, who’re the extra slices for, then?’

      ‘Brady—because he’s new.’

      ‘I’m still new,’ Tom protested.

      ‘Rats,’ Jo said mildly. ‘You’ve been here for over a year.’ Still smiling, she swung a look back over her shoulder. ‘Brady, turkey, avocado and cos lettuce OK?’

      ‘Sounds very healthy.’ Brady had the clingfilm running smoothly and placed it back on the worktop.

      ‘The tomatoes in the basket are from Monica’s garden.’ Jo said conversationally. ‘Her husband, Terry, grows acid-free beauties. She supplies us with heaps.’ With quick, neat movements Jo made his sandwich, slipped it onto a plate and handed it across to him. ‘Enjoy.’

      ‘Thanks.’ He eyed her levelly. ‘I’ll make yours tomorrow.’

      Jo managed to hold his gaze more or less steadily. ‘Don’t make rash promises,’ she warned lightly. ‘There’s bound to be an emergency or three around the corner.’

      Jo’s last patient for the day was Leisa Cooper. She worked at the local library and was pregnant with her first child.

      ‘How are you feeling?’ Jo asked, when Leisa sank gratefully into the chair.

      ‘Awful,’ Leisa confessed. ‘I feel so darned tired already and I have weeks to go. And I’m thirsty all the time and having to pee twice as much.’

      Jo’s medical instincts sharpened. ‘How long has this been going on?’

      ‘Not long. It just feels long.’ She made a small face. ‘Couple of weeks, I suppose. Is that significant?’

      ‘Could be.’ Jo wound the blood-pressure cuff around her patient’s arm and took a reading. And made a swift decision. ‘I’m going to send you along for a glucose tolerance test, Leisa. I’d like you go first thing tomorrow, if possible.’

      Leisa’s head came up, her eyes wide in alarm. ‘Is something wrong with me?’

      ‘Nothing drastically,’ Jo reassured her patient gently. ‘But you may be developing something called gestational diabetes. And before you get too worried, the condition is quite common in pregnancy.’

      ‘Is it something I’ve done wrong?’

      ‘Nothing like that. While you’re pregnant, the placenta is busily secreting hormones but in some women the uptake of hormones increases the body’s resistance to insulin. When this happens, you need more insulin to help the body’s cells and muscles take up glucose from the bloodstream.’

      Leisa touched a hand to her tummy. ‘So, what happens?’

      ‘Simply, the glucose stays around in the bloodstream. That’s why we need the test done, to see what’s going on with you.’ Jo took up her pen to write out the request for the path lab. ‘It would be helpful if you could have the morning off to have this GTT done, Leisa.’

      ‘I could probably arrange that.’ Leisa looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘So, how involved is this glucose tolerance test, then?’

      ‘Not terribly,’ Jo said. ‘It just takes a while. First off, you’ll be asked to drink a quantity of Lucosade.’

      ‘My poor bladder,’ Leisa groaned. ‘I won’t have to drink gallons of the stuff, will I?’

      Jo chuckled. ‘No. From memory, the amount is around three hundred mils. After that, your blood will be tested at one hourly intervals, three in all. If your blood glucose levels indicate you’re not within the normal range, we’ll begin treatment.’

      ‘Oh, lord…’ Leisa sighed. ‘Is the rest of my pregnancy going to be awful?’

      Jo shook her head. ‘Don’t think like that, Leisa. I’d hope diet and exercise will get things right for you. If the diagnosis in confirmed, we’ll begin liaising with Vanessa Rowntree, the dietitian at the hospital. She’ll do an intensive medical history with you and then get you started on an appropriate health regime.’

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