and the other with deep brown like their mother, were doing very well and he felt a deep and very unexpected bond with them. A bond that he hadn’t felt towards anyone, let alone tiny people, for more years than he cared to remember.
But these boys were special, perhaps because he’d delivered them in a crisis, or perhaps because their mother was clearly a very special woman. Perhaps it was both but, whatever was driving him to stay, he knew the three of them were bringing out protective feelings in him. A sense that he was needed and almost as if he belonged there. He should have felt unnerved and wanted to run but he didn’t. That need to protect himself from being hurt was overridden by the need to protect Claudia, Thomas and Luca.
Both boys weighed a little over four pounds, which was a relief. They were still in their humidicribs and being monitored closely but both had passed all the paediatrician’s initial tests and were being gavage fed by the neonatal nurses when Patrick left the nursery and headed back to check on their mother. Her surgery had taken far longer than he had anticipated. He had for a moment contemplated scrubbing in to assist when they’d arrived in Emergency and were rushed around to the OR but he’d immediately thought better of it. A reality check reminded him that his last obstetric surgery had ended his career.
Patrick wanted her to be spared the additional stress and long-term repercussions of the hysterectomy if possible and voiced that again upon arrival. The surgical resident had reassured Patrick that Dr Sally Benton was well respected in the field of gynaecological surgery and that Claudia would be in expert hands. Patrick hoped that the option to give birth again one day in the pretty delivery room with floral wallpaper, midwives and pain relief was not taken away. But, three hours later, he knew the reality of her surgery taking so long meant she had probably undergone a hysterectomy. And she would have to give up on that dream.
‘I’m Sally Benton.’ She pulled her surgical cap free and outstretched her hand.
‘Patrick Spencer,’ he responded as he met her handshake. He looked at the woman before him. She was tall and thin, her short black hair with smatterings of grey framed her pretty face and he suspected she was in her early fifties.
‘Dr Spencer, I assume.’
‘Yes.’
‘I wanted to personally thank you for the medical intervention you provided in the elevator. Miss Monticello is in Recovery now and she certainly wouldn’t be if you hadn’t done such an amazing job delivering her sons and keeping her alive. If you hadn’t been with her today, there would most definitely have been a question mark over their survival.’
Patrick drew a deep breath and chose to ignore the compliment. ‘Was it conservative surgery?’
‘No, unfortunately, Miss Monticello underwent a full hysterectomy to stop the haemorrhaging. She retained her ovaries but her uterus has been removed,’ Dr Benton continued as she took a seat in the corridor and indicated Patrick to do the same. ‘The attending doctor briefed me on your diagnosis of suspected placenta accreta, but the depth of invasion was not first but second grade. I was faced with placenta increta as the chorionic villi had invaded the muscular layer of the uterine wall so I had no option but to remove her womb. She was lucky that it had not spread through the uterine wall to other organs such as the bladder. Let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that; as you would know, even in this day and age, there’s still a six to seven percent mortality rate for that, due to the complications.’
Patrick knew the statistics for death only too well.
‘Thank you, Dr Benton.’
‘Don’t thank me. As I said before, you did the hard work keeping her alive. And she has two wonderful little boys. Perhaps the loss of her womb will not be a complete tragedy.’
Patrick nodded. He wondered how Claudia would react to the need for a hysterectomy.
‘And how are her sons doing?’ the surgeon enquired.
‘Very well,’ Patrick said with a sense of pride that surprised him. ‘They’re handsome young men and a good weight for their gestational age.’
‘Great. Now that’s out of the way and we’ve spoken about our mutual patients, I have a personal question for you,’ Dr Benton continued. ‘How do you know Miss Monticello?’
‘We were just sharing the elevator.’
Her expression revealed her surprise. ‘Well, that’s serendipity for you. I don’t think she could have asked for a better travelling companion. Where do you practice obstetrics?’ Then, without waiting for an answer, she added, ‘Am I right in assuming, with your accent, and because I haven’t heard of you around LA, that your practice is out of state or perhaps abroad?’
Patrick hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about himself but he knew the doctor sitting beside him had every right to enquire. ‘No, I practice here in LA but I’m not in OBGYN.’
‘Really?’ Her brow wrinkled as she considered his response. ‘What’s your field then?’
‘I’m a board certified cosmetic surgeon.’
Once again, she didn’t hide her surprise. ‘I’d never have picked that,’ she said with a grin on her somewhat tired face as she stood up and again offered a handshake. ‘Well, Dr Spencer, if you ever get tired of your current field, you should consider obstetrics. There’s a shortage of experts in the field and you’re very skilled. Your intervention was nothing short of amazing in the conditions you were forced to work in. As I said, Miss Monticello owes her life to you. She will be in her room in another two hours or so. She lost a lot of blood, as you know, so we’ll be monitoring her in Recovery for a little longer than we normally would. But I’m sure she’d be pleased to see you.’
Patrick met her handshake and she smiled before she left him alone.
* * *
Patrick spent the next two hours with Luca and Thomas. He had called his practice and rearranged his schedule. While the boys were being monitored closely he still didn’t want to leave. Not yet anyway. Thomas was in a humidicrib and Luca required additional oxygen to be provided through an oxy-hood so he was in an open bed warmer. The neonatologist felt certain that would only be a temporary measure as both appeared to be healthy and a satisfactory weight for their gestational age. Patrick was aware they had some basic milestones to achieve, both in weight and development, before they would be released; he doubted it would be more than three or four weeks before they would be allowed to leave hospital with their mother.
He went downstairs to the florist and picked the largest floral bouquet they had and two brown bears with blue bows. Claudia had told him she had no one she could reach out to and he knew how that felt only too well. He tried not to think of what he had lost when he’d walked away from his family.
Only now at least Claudia did have two little people to call her family. Still, he knew her room would be devoid of anything to brighten her day and lift her spirits and, after the day she had endured, she deserved a room filled with flowers. And something to remind her of the boys when she was resting and not able to be with them in the neonatal nursery. And when she had to face the reality of the hysterectomy she had undergone without her consent.
The nurse at the station arranged for the flowers to be placed near her bed.
Waiting outside the room twenty minutes later, he couldn’t contain, nor fully understand, the smile that spread across his face and the warmth that surged through his body when he saw her hospital bed being wheeled down the corridor towards him. She was still pale but not as drained as when he had last seen her, and she hadn’t noticed him. In the pit of his stomach he still remembered her limp body collapsing against his and he’d thought the boys had lost their mother.
Patiently he remained outside as she was settled into her room but, as the nurses exited, he tapped on the door that was ajar.
‘Are you up to a visitor?’
‘Patrick?’
‘How did you guess?’ he asked as he quietly entered