A Surgical Affair by Shirley Summerskill Page B

It’s your cousin, Fay,” said a cheerful voice, which Diana, who had taken over the dusting, could hear perfectly.
    “Hello, Fay. Well, zero hour’s nearly here. This afternoon I’ll be admitted to Charity Ward.” Sister laughed nervously.
    “Well, at least it isn’t strange to you. You know all the doctors and nurses.”
    “Perhaps I’ll even enjoy being the center of attention. Do you know, it’s quite an unusual operation I’m having? We’ve had only one case like it since I’ve been on the ward.” Sister sat on the bed, obviously glad of an excuse to stop dusting. She was a little breathless.
    “I didn’t want to ask you before, Nan, but what exactly is it they’re going to do?”
    “Well, they cut out the piece of the artery that is all swollen up, the aneurysm it’s called, and then sew another piece in its place. The new piece is called a graft.”
    “It sounds very simple,” Fay said vaguely.
    “If Mr. Cole wasn’t doing it, I’d be scared stiff, but I feel I can trust him completely. And Dr. Royston and Dr. Field will be there, so I’ve nothing to worry about.”
    “I’ll come and see you, as soon as they’ll let me, Nan.” “Don’t forget to help yourself to flowers from the cottage garden. That’s my only regret about all this. I’ve had to cancel the decorators. Oh, well, I’ve waited for so long to have my own cottage, another few months can’t make much difference. I’ll appreciate it all the more when I do move in.”
    “Be seeing you, then. ’ Bye, Nan.”
    “ ’Bye.”
    Diana noticed that Sister did not get up, because the pain had come on again. It made her sweat, and she clutched the edge of the bed, until her fingers went white. Diana thought Sister didn’t believe in God, but at that moment, with her eyes shut, she seemed to pray hard: “If there is anybody looking after us, relieve me of this agony.” And after a few minutes, the pain was gone.
    In the small kitchen Diana made them both a cup of coffee, and afterward they started to pack, filling a suitcase with the things Sister always told her patients to bring when they came to her ward.
    “Perhaps going through all this will make me better at my job,” Sister said. “It will be a strange feeling, going into that room in Charity Ward as a patient, lying in the bed instead of standing beside it. I’ll have to wear a hospital nightdress and cap to go to the theater, and take my glasses off. And the bed-socks—they must remember my bed-socks, before they take me up. I hope I make a good patient, not irritable or too demanding.”
    Sister took a last look around the small, simply furnished sitting room, which must suddenly have seemed very dear to her. She showed Diana the green leather armchair with the broken spring—in 14 years she had never bothered to have it mended; the tiny radio, which helped to while away so many lonely hours; the three Certificates of Honor she had won as a student nurse, framed on the wall. How proud she had been of those! There would be more room at the cottage, and a garden, but this was her home, familiar and full of memories.
    Diana shut the front door; Sister pocketed the key, and heaved a long sigh, and they went downstairs.
    Outside, summer had arrived. The sky was a bright blue, all the birds were singing and people were not rushing along to keep warm.
    Later that afternoon Sister, wearing a new pink nightdress, lay in the side room of her ward. Diana sat by the window, writing the case notes.
    Probationer Nurse Joan Edmonds appeared at the door and brought in a glass and a jug of water. She was looking pale and tired.
    “Nurse, are you feeling all right?” Sister asked her, ignoring the fact that, for the moment, she was no longer in charge of the nurses on Charity Ward.
    “Yes, Sister, I’m—I’m fine,” the nurse replied uncertainly, avoiding Sister’s watchful eyes.
    At that moment, Mark Royston pushed open the door and strolled in. Diana noticed Nurse