Five
Diana gave her the grand tour of the thirty-bed facility servicing the seven thousand people residing both in town and in the surrounding district. It was part mid-century brick building, part temporary dongas, and part new infrastructure, which held the twenty-four-hour emergency department.
With her midwifery and NICU experience, Rowena had been employed to work in the emergency department. All high-risk births around the district were shunted several hundred kilometres to Dubbo or even to Sydney depending on the situation, but unforeseen situations did sometimes arise.
A premmie baby determined not to wait, or an unexpected little arrival from someone just passing through town, benefited from a nurse of Rowena’s experience. This made her a highly desirable hire, and she noted a state-of-the-art neonatal cot as they passed by one of the two resus cubicles.
‘The department is enabled for telehealth,’ Diana said, pointing at a screen as they moved through.
Rowena remembered that from her interview—it’d been one of the reasons she’d felt okay about flying so far outside her comfort zone. Knowing that clinical consultations with city specialists were available via video link at the tap of a key had helped ease her concerns about the isolation.
They passed by the imaging department, complete with a CT scanner, on their way to the older part of the hospital. This area housed medical and surgical patients as well as maternity and paediatrics. The operating theatre, pharmacy and outpatient departments were also located in the building.
As they worked their way around the complex, Diana introduced Rowena to a dozen different people. Thanks to the incident with Silvano, everyone seemed to know who she was. She’d even been called an angel and a hero, which was embarrassing.
Although, she supposed, preferable to notoriety.
Rowena still cringed every time she thought about that night several months ago, turning up at her place of employment at two am in her pyjamas and bed hair, ranting about infusion rates. Which is why she had to use her time here to get herself on track.
She had a lot to prove back in Sydney.
Diana pointed to a row of large prefab buildings, all with ramp access, nestled between the old and new buildings. ‘That’s allied health,’ she said, as they walked along an outdoor corridor shaded by the overhang of the roof. ‘Physio, speech therapy, dieticians and social work are located there.’
Rowena nodded as the winter sunshine slanted in, warming the corridor pleasantly.
She knew it would be a while before she got her bearings but, suffice to say, she was impressed.
This might be the middle of nowhere but Rowena felt less out of her depth seeing, first hand, how well this little town was serviced medically.
For someone who had worked for a very long time in a highly medicalised environment where several specialist doctors were at her fingertips at any given moment, the thought of going to a small rural hospital had required a leap of faith.
But Brooke had been right. A low-stress place of work to ease back into things was the best way forward.
She needed to walk before she could run. And she would run again. She had to.
Otherwise, who else was she?
‘It’s a lot to take in,’ Diana said as they headed to her office. ‘But you’ll find your way around in no time.’
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
Which was the truth. Rowena had been away from work long enough. It might have been a necessary break, but there were bills and a mortgage to pay.
Not to mention a reputation to repair.
‘I’ll get Shari to set you up in the system so you can work through the orientation modules today and tomorrow. I’ve put you on an early on Wednesday so you can shadow Brooke.’
Rowena nodded. ‘Sounds great.’
*
‘You’re quite the hit around town,’ Brooke announced, setting two glasses of white wine between them.
They were in a booth in the main bar of The Stockman, which was surprisingly lively.
Monday was apparently chicken parmi night and not to be missed.
Brooke, who was solo tonight because Nathan had volunteered to install the new lights at the footy clubhouse, had insisted on buying Rowena dinner to celebrate her first day at the hospital.
And Rowena had learned long ago to just go with the flow where her friend was concerned.
Many groups of people—some obviously family, others friends—either sat at tables or stood around near the bar chatting, drinking and laughing. It made for a friendly, if rather loud, atmosphere.
‘Wal said the meals were on the house and Thommo bought the drinks,’ Brooke said. ‘Looks like Nate and I are joining you for dinner every night whether you like it or not.’
Rowena laughed. ‘And here I was worried they wouldn’t like some city slicker.’
‘They can be wary of newcomers, that’s true.
’ Brooke had been born and bred in Acacia Junction and her pride at her continuing connection to her Country burst out of every pore, from the twin always was, always will be beaded bracelets on her wrist to the football jersey she was wearing bearing the name of the local team.
‘But thanks to your kick-arse entry into the town, I think they’ve decided to adopt you.
’ She held her glass up. ‘Cheers to you. And Silvano Morelli.’
Smiling, Rowena tapped her glass against Brooke’s and they both took a sip. ‘Mmm, that’s good.’
She hadn’t been lying to Lachlan about her not being much of a drinker. Rowena was very aware that taking a glass full of depressant with her antidepressant medication was not best practice, but one or two every now and then wouldn’t hurt.
Brooke rolled her eyes. ‘Of course it’s good. It’s a New Zealand sauv. We live in the bush, not outer space.’
‘Oh … so I didn’t need to bring my own Tim Tams?’ Rowena teased.
‘Ha!’ Brooke grinned. ‘Funny.’ She sipped again, her expression growing serious as she inspected Rowena’s face. ‘So … how are you? Really?’
Rowena dropped her gaze to her glass, giving it a couple of swirls before glancing back at her friend. ‘I’m good. Well … better, anyway.’
‘You look like you’re ready to take on the world.’
‘I am. I mean, I was nervous this morning. It’s been a while, after all. I worried just that hospital smell might send me into some kind of spiral. But it didn’t, and it’s time, you know?’
‘Yeah.’ Brooke sipped her wine. ‘When was your last panic attack?’
Rowena was pleased for the background noise drowning out their conversation.
Brooke wasn’t talking loudly but Rowena didn’t want her business shared with the entire pub.
Apart from Brooke, Diana was the only other person in town who knew her backstory.
Rowena had been upfront about her anxiety condition during the interview and that she was taking medication and seeing a psychologist.
She wasn’t ashamed of it. She was just one of tens of thousands of people who suffered from an anxiety condition—there were probably several in this very bar. She just didn’t want to broadcast it, either.
‘A couple of months ago. The meds helped bring me out of that spiral pretty quickly.’
Brooked raised her glass. ‘All praise Big Pharma.’
‘Hell yes,’ Rowena agreed with a laugh and they tapped glasses again.
Rowena didn’t know where she’d be without the anxiety meds. Maybe other people could work through it using natural therapies, but her life had been the kind of spinning out of control that only a three-week break in a private facility and serious medicating had been able to get under control.
And she didn’t care if she had to always be on them—she liked feeling in control of her life.
‘I have a clarity I realised I haven’t had in some time. I look back now and I can see that I’d been slowly unravelling for about six months before the incident.’
That’s how she thought about it now. The incident.
‘I’m back on this even keel and I like it. Very much.’
‘Are you still having sessions with your therapist?’
‘Yep. We’ll be doing it via Zoom while I’m here.’
‘Good.’ Brooke reached her hand across the table and gave Rowena’s arm a squeeze. ‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘I’m happy for me too.’ And that was the truth. During those months prior and in the immediate aftermath, Rowena had been in a dark place. She’d wondered if she’d ever be happy again.
‘Right, so, next question. You’re not seriously going to move into the hospital accommodation, are you? I wish you’d reconsider and come live with us.’
‘Absolutely not.’
True—the situation wasn’t ideal. Not least because she’d spent a bit too much time living in hospitals lately to really warm to the idea. But it would be her own space.
‘You don’t need a third wheel messing with all that newlywed bliss.’
Brooke snorted. ‘We don’t mind. Trust me, you’ll thank us. I swear you can’t swing a cat in those dongas.’
‘It’s for six months. I can put up with anything for six months.’
Their food arrived, the parmigianas—because all these people couldn’t be wrong, surely?
—huge enough to take their minds off anything but their meals.
Smothered in pasta sauce and cheese, it took up three-quarters of the plate, a mound of chips occupying the rest. Despite knowing it was going to end up on her hips, it smelled divine, and Rowena started to salivate.
‘I’m starving,’ Brooke announced, attacking it with her knife and fork.
Rowena followed suit and, for a couple of minutes, neither of them said anything as they both enjoyed that special mix of chicken-y, tomato-y, cheesy goodness.
Brooke eventually came up for a breather. ‘So …’ She plucked a chip off her plate and eyed Rowena speculatively as she poked it in her direction. ‘You and Lachy, huh?’
Rowena was grateful she hadn’t just taken a mouthful of wine—Brooke would probably be wearing it! ‘Me and Lachy?’
‘Oh, come on, out there, alone with him, saving a life together as the sun set romantically over the barren outback landscape. Were there sparks? There had to be sparks.’ Brooke smiled wickedly as she crammed the chip into her mouth.
Rowena rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not here to … bag me a cowboy.’
‘Hmm. Well, now, isn’t that interesting,’ Brooke mused as she picked up another chip and shoved it in her mouth, chewing then swallowing. ‘That’s not what I asked. And, for the record, he’s actually a sheep farmer, not a cowboy.’
Cowboy. Sheep farmer. Argonaut. Whatever …
‘C’mon, don’t you think he’s sexy in that laid-back, howdy ma’am farmer kind of way?’
‘He’s good looking, sure.’ It was impossible not to concede that point. She had a pulse, after all. ‘But there were no sparks. We were a little busy trying to save a man’s life.’
‘All I’m saying is that maybe a little physical distraction wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing while you’re here? Give you something to look forward to other than work and barefoot bowls every Sunday. You know …’ She waggled her eyebrows. ‘Put a little pep in your step.’
‘I’m going to be gone in six months.’ And she was determined to walk away without a backwards glance.
‘He’s a big boy, he can use his words if he’s not up for providing some temporary distraction. But if he is …’
‘I’m fine with just getting through each day without a panic attack.’ This wasn’t a great time in her recovery to go complicating her life.
‘Oh, honey.’ Brooke reached across the table and squeezed her arm. ‘It’s okay to want more than mere survival.’
‘I know.’ She shook off Brooke’s arm. ‘But I don’t want to upset the apple cart by adding in anything new too soon.’
Brooke picked up her wine. ‘Yeah, I get that. Just promise me you’ll try to enjoy yourself while you’re here. It might be a small town but there’s always plenty on.’
‘Like barefoot bowls?’
‘Yes.’ Brooke laughed at Rowena’s dubious face.
‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. And footy every Saturday, which is like a religion around here.
You missed this year’s district Koori carnival, which is huge.
The hospital has a netball team that plays in the local mixed comp on Saturdays.
There’s also trivia here every Thursday night and karaoke at the Crown on Friday nights.
We have an annual race day, which is second only to the show on the social calendar—oh, you’ll be here for the show!
It lands here at the beginning of next month.
It might not be that fancy-schmancy Royal Easter Show you guys have, but it’s the place to be. ’
‘Okay,’ Rowena conceded. ‘That sounds like fun.’
Brooke nodded. ‘It is. And then there are the events that run out of the town hall. A lot of NAIDOC Week activities are held there. This year the aunties have organised for a Wiradjuri poet to come to the hall to run workshops with the kids as part of the celebrations. Then there’s Tai Chi and Zumba classes.
They even have—’ she raised her glass in Rowena’s direction and stuck out her pinkie, feigning poshness—‘monthly showings of foreign movies.’
Rowena’s lips twitched as she raised her glass. ‘Ooh la la. Fancy.’
‘Bloody oath, mate,’ Brooke agreed with a smile and they tapped their glasses together.