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‘George.’ Cheryl rolled her eyes. ‘We might actually get some work out of him this shift, given that Melanie’s not on duty. Mind you, there’s no real hurry to get cubicle two sutured—I’m pretty sure he’s going to be admitted to Obs.’
Cubicle two turned out to be one Mickey Baker—a rather inebriated gentleman who’d provided the background music during handover, and was now snoring contentedly. And though in the real world it might make perfect sense to let him sleep off his excess, Annie needed to do a thorough set of neurological observations to set her own baseline in case he deteriorated during her shift.
‘Afternoon, Mickey,’ Annie called to her patient, and then called again. ‘Mickey, can you open your eyes for me?’ She watched as he struggled to do just that then thought better of it. ‘Mickey, open your eyes, please, and tell me where you are.’
‘Bloody hospital,’ he growled, bloodshot eyes peeking open as Annie turned on the automatic blood pressure monitor and checked his obs. ‘Now, would you let me get some rest?’
‘You know I can’t do that, Mickey.’ Annie smiled wryly, shining a torch in his eyes to check that his pupils were equal and responsive to light. ‘Now squeeze my hands for me. Come on, squeeze them hard,’ she insisted as Mickey reluctantly did as he was told. Clearly more than used to the drill, he lifted his legs in turn without being prompted as Annie checked off the boxes in her observation chart.
‘Now can I rest?’
‘For now,’ Annie answered. ‘Though I’ll be back shortly to set up for the doctor to come in and suture you.’
‘Any chance of something to eat, Annie?’ Mickey asked, his eyes still closed. Annie couldn’t help but smile. Mickey was one of their occasional regulars, coming in off the streets every few months. As well as getting his scalp sutured or his ulcers dressed or whatever it was that brought him in, he’d usually get a good feed and a much-needed bath and change of clothes before he went on his merry way. And though he hadn’t been in for a few months now, that he remembered her name from last time brought an unseen smile to Annie’s face.
‘A lunch has been ordered for you—it should be here soon. After that we’ll get you a bath—’
‘I don’t want a bath,’ he snapped, rolling on his side. ‘I just want something to eat.’
‘Sure.’ Annie nodded, but she gave a little unnoticed frown. Mickey was hiding something, but till he’d sobered up and was a bit more co-operative there really wasn’t much that could be done about it. ‘You rest up till lunch comes and whatever you do, don’t get off the trolley. If you need anything at all, just press the call bell.’ Her hand was up, about to swish the curtain right back so Mickey could be easily watched, when suddenly it was pulled back, making Annie jump—and not just at the motion. Never had a curtain opened on such a stunning cocktail of sensations.
The breeze of the curtain was heavily laced with the most potent male scent and close up Iosef was even more divine. ‘How is he?’
Annie wasn’t exactly short, but he towered over her. Even allowing for his rather more senior status, he was superbly dressed. Black trousers sat low on his slender hips, a thick white cotton shirt with a thread count that was surely in the millions set off a stunning gunmetal grey tie that almost exactly matched his eyes. Though Annie barely got a glimpse of them as he strode past her and proceeded to take the manual blood-pressure cuff from the wall and wrap it around a grumbling Mickey’s arm.
‘Fine. I’ve just done his obs,’ Annie said, picking up the chart and offering it to him as he pulled on his stethoscope. ‘His blood pressure’s—’
‘Shh...’
OK, a lot of people shushed others when they were concentrating—no doubt, she did it herself several times a day when she was trying to pick up a difficult blood pressure or listening to a chest—but it was more the way he’d shushed her that had Annie’s teeth grinding, the dismissive shake of his head, the brief wave of his free hand as he shooed the obs chart away that had her bristling.
‘Good!’ he said, more to himself than her, taking off his stethoscope and wrapping it round his neck before pinching Mickey’s ear none too gently. ‘Afternoon, sir,’ he called, and the old boy rolled over and requested, not too politely, that the doctor please just leave him alone. Annie spoke up again.
‘I’ve just done his neuro obs.’
‘Good.’ He nodded, again completely ignoring the proffered chart, his findings clearly just to satisfy himself. ‘Once I’ve sutured him, I want him moved to the observation ward.’
‘I thought George was going to suture him.’
‘He’s my patient!’ Iosef shrugged.
‘Yes, but... ’ Annie started, unsure why a senior reg would choose to do the rather menial task—not that he was listening. Instead he was picking up the file and heading out through the curtains. ‘Well, there’s no rush, whoever stitches him. The obs ward is closed till six,’ Annie called to his departing back. ‘Jackie wants—’
‘Jackie wants the beds used for emergency patients only—which Mr Baker is. Anyway, I want this cubicle cleared.’
‘It just confuses things if we open it,’ Annie protested. ‘Other doctors see that it’s open and—’
‘Are you confused, Nurse?’ he asked, halting her explanation in its tracks as she stared open-mouthed at possibly the rudest introduction to a colleague she’d ever experienced. ‘Because if youareconfused, I will explain things more simply: I want my patient in a bed, I want this cubicle to be utilized rather than providing a babysitting service because it’s easier for the nurses to keep the obs ward closed. If you have a problem asserting yourself and telling doctors that they cannot use the emergency beds, send them my way and I will explain it to them.’ He stalked out of the cubicle, leaving Annie to unwrap the manual blood-pressure cuff from the patient, her hand shaking with rage. Somehow he’d managed to condense more insults into a minute than most managed in a day. Her title was actually ‘sister’, though, given it sounded like a nun, she preferred Annie, but aside from that, assertion was as essential a qualification as a degree to make it in the emergency department, and for him to insinuate that she was lacking in that had Annie’s blood boiling.
Still, there wasn’t time to dwell on it now—the baby next door was due for his Ventolin and then she had to take one of her patients up to the ward—oh, and set up for Mickey to be sutured.
But in an almost reverse mirror image of moments ago, as Annie pulled open the curtains Iosef was just finishing up, giving the baby the last few puffs of his Ventolin through a spacer, though at leastthistime he did sign his name on the chart.
‘Did you need something?’ he asked, not even bothering to look up.
‘What could I possibly need?’ Annie gave a very twisted smile. ‘You’ve clearly thought of everything!’ And pursing her lips, she headed off to find Les, the porter, to come with her as they took her patient up to the ward.
She seethed every step of the way.
