Thursday started with a bit of a ‘spin’ in the bedroom, as I swung my legs over the bedside. Opps, mmm dizzy, coffee injecting the necessary stimulus. I went off into the early morning to prune a leaf or four.
Home, bed, things worse overnight. Doctor sees me swaying towards his rooms. He grabs me and puts a chair under my arse. Without too much intro, he asks what I am doing in his surgery, and why not at Accident and Emergency. He has me touching my nose with my finger, tricky stuff; he has a folder, notetaking! He has an interesting collection of succulents on his window sill!
He rings A&E, alerting them to my pending arrival. “No, I don’t want an ambulance. OK the Receptionist can help you to the car!”
I’m triaged. I sit. I observe the city’s woes from my seat, the tears, trauma, anxious mums. The Triage Nurse approaches, and enquires whether or not I am the son of Wilfred! I advise “a nephew” and am overwhelmed with his effusive outpourings, a moral hero, unjustly treated, now mostly forgotten. He, and his father have read Passport, and he has sent it to India, to his home town for translation and republishing. “Do you have any of his other books?” I invite him to make contact later. Copyright?
Eventually I am comfortably embedded in a bay adjacent to the Pan Room! Discrete comings and goings. Bing, bing, bong, bing, ta ta ta “Resus team to Bay three…” followed a few minutes later with Ta ta ta “Bay three all clear.”
“What is your name” “Chris”, “No, your full name … date of birth, any allergies, I’ll be right back,” and so the evening progressed. “Hi my name is Simona, what is your full … DoB …, have you moved your bowels today?” “Pardon” “Have you moved your bowels today?” Stunned hesitation “Have you had a poo?” tersely delivered! “Two, actually” I meekly respond.
The Triage Nurse passes and I record his quietly whispered name and mobile details, and promise to make contact when back at home! “Such a hero!”
Do ray me, Do ray me! “Attention Response Unit needed level two!” “Hi, my name is Angelika. We are arranging for a CAT scan shortly. We need to take bloods. Ahh, hang on, I’ll get Simona to supervise as I am a 1st year Intern, just starting out.” Bright green shoes!
“Hi, my name is … I have a little intramuscular something for your nausea. It’s going to hurt, probably for quite a while.” It did!
“Hi, my name is Georgiana. Can you tell me your full … DOB. How are you feeling?” Sandwiches, juice and a cuppa follow the scan. I was ravenous – a second pack of sandwiches arrived!
I missed meeting my maker, maybe meaning I dodged a bullet – but met a wonderfully bright, professional, caring, and incredibly busy team. I never understood the numerous bells, hoots, horns and alarms – I presume somebody did? 500 words