Page 52 of Full Court Crush

“Let’s get started, shall we?” She strode through her colleagues and onwards to the first bay of the ward.

By the time they got to the third bay, her brain was fried. Her mind kept flinching, knowing her mother would be mad at her, plus the unread texts from Keira burned in her subconscious. They hadn’t had a chance to speak since that fateful, blissful night. Amelia didn’t really know what to say. They’d seen each other at training, of course, but training wasn’t exactly the place for private conversations. She hoped Keira didn’t think she was ignoring her. On the other hand, she hoped her mother knew she very muchwasignoring her and would take the hint.

“What do you think, Dr Preston?” someone asked.

“Hmm?”

“I was just telling Mrs Gallaway that it might be best to keep Sophie in for another night until we are sure her blood sugars are stabilised.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Do you have any questions, Mrs Gallaway? I know diabetes is a scary diagnosis, but with the medication and technology nowadays, in a few years, Sophie can manage it independently.”

“It all seems to have happened so fast,” Mrs Galloway said.

“I know, and I know it can feel overwhelming. I really suggest you join that support group we talked about. It might help to talk to other parents in your position.”

Mrs Galloway smiled, and Amelia turned to the rest of her team.

“Let me see the latest results.” She took the file off one of her staff members.

“Hmm, okay. Let’s give her a snack and five units of insulin, and see how she responds.”

One of the nursing staff coughed loudly. Amelia looked up at her.

“Sorry, I think I may have misheard you, Dr Preston. I heard five units, but I think you meant zero-point-five, right?”

Amelia blanched.

Five units of insulin with such little food could have serious consequences in someone of Sophie’s size. And it would have been Amelia’s fault. Images of a comatose Sophie barged into her mind like a derailing train.

“Yes, thank you, Samantha. Let’s try her on 0.5 and see what happens. Excuse me a moment.” She shoved the file back in the junior doctor’s direction and dashed off the ward. It took all her self-restraint not to run.

She forcefully ripped open the door to the staff toilets, making several people inside jump at her sudden intrusion. Ducking into the nearest cubicle, she shut the door behind her, put down the toilet lid and sat on it. She was breathing hard, inhaling quickly and barely exhaling before she took another shallow breath. She clawed at the collar of her blouse, wanting to rip it from her throat. It felt like something was sucking all the air from the room, and she was desperately trying to pull it back with her bare hands. A familiar tingling began in her little fingers as her body’s fight-or-flight response told her she was dying. The tingling intensified and spread to her other fingers, before invading her toes. It made her want to rip off the offending limbs. She kept dragging air into her lungs, unable to slow her breathing.

You idiot.You can’t make mistakes like that.

The voice sounded suspiciously like her mother's.

Amelia tried to calm her thoughts, but visions of little Sophie seizing from too much insulin forced their way into her brain like a knife in a tyre, letting out the oxygen she was scraping the air for. The tingling in her hands intensified until she couldn’t feel them properly; they became numb, dead weights sewn onto the ends of her forearms. Dark spots appeared in her vision; she was in real trouble if she couldn’t get a handle on this quickly. She tried to visualise standing at the free throw line, drowning everything else out and just concentrating on the basket. But the junior doctors all lined the key, staring at her and judging her for her mistake.

The basket moved further away with every dribble she took. Her vision blurred, and she worried she might pass out. She debated unlocking the cubicle door. If she did, at least someone would find her.

Then another voice popped into her head, soothing like sinking into a cool lake on a boiling summer's day.

It really is beautiful up here.

Have a proper look, if you can.

Suddenly she was atop the Ferris wheel at Winter Wonderland, and the Cardiff city centre appeared before her like a lush forest carpet littered with fairy lights. She closed her eyes again and tried to picture every individual building she could remember. The more those buildings came into focus, the more she was able to slow her breathing down. Her hands still tingled painfully, but at least she could feel them now. She tried to remember how Keira’s gloved hand had felt in hers. The warmth of her touch and the wool fabric had felt like being wrapped in a blanket in front of a log fire. Slowly, she counted her breaths. In for four, hold for five, out for six. Her heart rate slowed.In for four, hold for five, out for six. Her feet stopped tingling. Keeping her eyes closed, she stayed at the top of that Ferris wheel, at the top of conquering her fear. By the time she opened her eyes, her breathing had returned to normal. She blinked the real world back into focus.

The rest of her shift passed slowly. Amelia double and triple checked any judgements, diagnoses, or medications she prescribed. Her chest tightened a few times, as it was prone to do after a panic attack, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. She used the Ferris wheel to keep them under control.

Only once she was safely back in her car at the end of her shift did her façade break.

She slammed her hand on the steering wheel, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. She hadn’t nearly made a mistake like that since she was a medical student, and she hadn’t had a panic attack in months. She’d thought she had it under control. She’d thought the medication was working. In the rearview mirror, her complexion was red and blotchy, and the bags under her eyes looked like she was packing to move abroad. She was pale and wondered if the lack of sun was already affecting her mood. Normally, the depression didn’t get really bad until midwinter. She sighed and rested her forehead on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. One thing she knew for sure, this couldn’t happen again.

By the time Amelia got home, she had to drag her body up the couple of steps to her front door. Panic attacks always sapped every ounce of energy from her bones and turned them into lead. Once inside, she locked the door behind her and dumped her stuff at the bottom of the stairs. Telling herself she’d deal with it later, she went into the kitchen to make tea. Her hands shook a little as she got the mug from the cupboard. She added two heaped teaspoons of sugar and the tea bag. She didn’t normally put sugar in her tea, but after the day she’d had, she needed it. She stirred the tea, staring blankly out the window, not really seeing the dimly lit garden outside. She thought about Sophie settling down for another night in the hospital, and how lucky she was the nurse had caught Amelia’s mistake.

Her tea had already cooled when she jumped at the sound of someone trying her door handle from outside. Her fight-or-flight response kicked in, turning her rib cage into a vice, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Was it an intruder? She looked around for something to defend herself with.