I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part8

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part8

 

I stared at the door.  The more I looked at it , the more I could see every defect, every blemish in that door.  The thing that made things worse was that my imagination was playing games in my head.  I just knew that Karl was dying. I had flashes of real stupidity, and I knew that Karl would find it funny.  The Grim Reaper standing over his bed, saying to him, "Look, you knew the salon mouse was off.  I didn't want  to push the door open, but I owed it to myself and Karl to do that.  I placed my hand on the door handle and pushed.

It was like moving from the light into the dark.   The room was hushed, and all the lights were dimmed. There were oasis of light, I cold see three nurses, and Karl.   He lay on the bed in a picture of obscene grotesque beauty.  His head had a red halo of blood, and his hair was plastered to his head.  His face seemed to move, as his blood exited his body.  His body was like one of those CSI shows,  The nurse holding his had, wiped clean the blood from his face, only to find it had returned.  His body provided the bed, with an insane line around it.  The deference was it wasn't chalk, it was blood.

The blood reflected the light, and one nurse made herself busy on pain control, another had several changes of bedding, and they'd gently but firmly put fresh bedding,  on the bed, only to find it's crimson hue was replaced by fresh blood.  Karl Screamed.  It tore through me, like the claws of a thousand finger nails, being scraped on a blackboard.

My mentor came in, and gently took me out, leaving the door to close, and hide Karl from the world again.  Allowing him to leave this planet, and hopefully find peace. She told me that Karl was going hard, and that he'd either "bleed out" or choke on his own blood.  I just felt it was unfair, and I told her so.  She agreed, and gave me a hug, and told me to help keep the ward running.

I tried to get as far away from that room.  There was someone I cared about fighting not to live, but to leave with some dignity.  I went through, into the ladies section, and Karl screamed again.  We all jumped, and so I told them that a patient wasn't well (Under fucking Statement  of the year..  )  and if they could pray for him, or think good thoughts, I'd appreciate it.  He screamed again, and we all jumped.

The mentor had got in touch with Karl's wife, and she was on the way in.   I stood there praying under my breath that she's make it.  I went through most of the shift on automatic pilot.  With every scream, I was waiting for the end.  The screams were changing their tone, they were becoming more animalistic, more angry.   No matter where I stood on the ward, I could hear them.

My mentr came to me, a hour before the end of my shift, she told me that I could go home early.  Her reasoning was, as it was snowing heavily and I'd have to rely on  British  Rail, I should get off,  or I could be stuck here over night.  I honestly think she was doing it, because of  Karl dying..  I left, and passed his wife on the way to the life.  As I was waiting for the lift, Karl screamed.

The next day was my final day on the ward, and I'd got an  absolutely great report.  My tutor then told me, how Karl died.   His wife sat by his bedside holding his hand, and got up to go to the toilet, and while she was gone, he screamed, and died.

Over the years...

Karl visits me, not in the spiritual sense, but I remember, and in my head I spout theories.  I think about him screaming. Every  visit creates another theory, and he came to me, just before Christmas in a dream.  So  what I'm going to do is  spout them out, and you can say "oiy you ponce, you're so wrong!"

The first one, and the obvious one, is that the pain was too much, and so he screamed.

The second one, and I must admit, I like...  He's not going into the dark night gently, he's going kicking and screaming.

The third, he was announcing his exit...

And the fourth, and final one, and I really hope it was this, Like   Tennent's "Doctor Who", he just didn't want to go...  His  wife was with him, and he was angry he was leaving...

Why did I write this?

I suppose  I was exorcising a ghost, and I really loved him.  I wanted you all  to meet him, and hopefully like him too.  I miss him,  and I hope I did him justice...

OH last night "The life of PI" was on, and it answered why I feel guilty...   "I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye. "

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 7

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 7

 

The talk was interesting, and I came to the conclusion, that you are going to struggle with the young,  as they take things literally.  The class was a broad spectrum  of age groups, and I prided myself I could talk to anyone.  I met up with my friends and we sat together and watched it begin.

The two nurses introduced themselves, and began with a question.  "How do you explain Death?".  It was thrown around the room, and a broad variety of answers came, fluttering back to the front of the hall.  "The release of the soul/spirit", The emptying of the life force",  "The end, full stop", and then there was a pause.  The tallest nurse turn to the collective group of students, said, "How do you explain death to a child? ".  She quickly points at one of the students who was talking.  I knew him, he was tall, he had longish hair, (Which he'd recently cut), and he was a friendly easy going guy.  "OK, I'm your child, and for some reason, we don't see Grandma anymore...  DADDY, DADDY DADDY, WHERE'S GRANDMA?".  She pauses, places her hands behind her back, joins hands, and starts to sway.  WHERE'S GRANDMA DAD, UNDER THE PATIO?".

She waits, and the guy looks nervously round the hall, pleading with us, begging to get out of this hell that had been unleashed on him.  The nurse lowers her voice, "Where's Grandma, Dad?  I miss her".  He nervously says, "Grandma, has gone on a journey.... and she won't be coming back.".  The caused the nurse to wail, "You never liked her did you?  Mummy always said you said, you'll be glad when she's put in a home".  She then thanked the student, and turned to the class and said, "There are loads of pitfalls, talking to a child, you must see through their eyes, and to that purpose, we are now going to role play!"

The first thing that went through my head was "Fuck!" and the second was, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuckity Fuck Fuck", I hated role play.   "OK", "The nurse carried on, "The more mature students, struggle to remember your childhood.  The younger ones think back a few years, and go there.".  She paused, then she said, "We're going to be coming around the room, observing.  The really interesting ones will do a repeat performance, for the whole class, but to motivate, we have...", there's a dramatic pause, and the other nurse smiled.  The smile turned into a grin, and with a flourish, she pulled out a large family size bag of "Malteasers".  (A chocolate ball, with a honeycomb centre).

I teamed up with "Steve", a student from Sheffield, and at the time a good friend.  (I honestly thought he might not be, after I'd finished with  him.  (I had a malicious streak of humour  and I was going to unleash it on him).  We had to take turns, one being the child, the other the parent, I got to be the child first.

Me - "Where's  Grandma, Dad?"

Steve - "She's gone away to a really nice place".

Me - "Is she coming back?"

Steve - "No, she can't come back?


This was when one of the Macmillan nurses came to observe.  "Fuck" I thought, and then realised I'd committed myself to this, and carried on.

Me - "Why can't she come back?  Doesn't she love us anymore?"

Steve pauses, takes a deep breath,  gets a small but quiet, round of applause from the observer, and carries on.

Steve - "She loves you very much, but the rail service is very bad where she is now".

Another round of applause...

Me - "Can we visit her?"

Steve - "No,  we'd be stuck there too."

Me, "We could drive..."

Steve - "Bad roads"

Me - "Why did she goes there?  It sounds like shit..."

"Steve - "Grandad is there..."

Me - Can we book a taxi?"

Steve replied "Too expensive". and got a round of applause from the nurse.

To  make matters worse, we got a chance to perform in front of the class  (SODDING KARMA).



What happened on the second day; they took pity on us.  They came in with a table of children's books.  Each book hsd been chosen to explain death, and the told use to choose a book that touched us, as we're liable to remember it.  

Taking Steve's stellar performance the day prior, I chose one about a family of fishes.  The grandma tells the grandson, it was time for her to go into the river.  The Grandson cries, and grandma tells him, she'd try to swim back, but to know she loves him.   

She enters the river, and she's buffeted about by the current, and realises she wont get back.   She ends up in a pool, where Grandad is.


I enjoyed it, and looked forward to telling Karl.

The next day, I arrived on the ward, and Karl's door was closed.  I opened the door....

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 6

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 6

 

Thus went the days on the ward, I'd come in, riding the train, marching through snow, like an  insane person.  I'd be looking for bad puns, all containing the word. "Buddha".  I'd share it with Karl, and we'd then set it free, as we entered the women's section of the ward.  (I say "we", I should say Karl would do it, I didn't want the blame (or the groans)).

The weeks went on, and i learnt how to dress a wound, and Karl would tell me,how he'd organised  the remainder  of his life. There was nothing in great detail, but I knew his wife and daughters were "settled", and they'd be alright. I never met them, but I saw the aftermath of a visit, as he'd be more happy and in less pain.  I could see he was hurting, he had control  of his pain relief, even though it had a limiter, to stop over abuse.  

The days went by, and the snows turn to slush, dried and then snowed again.  I started to notice, he'd want the bowl more, but the humour was still there,  He'd mention about my football team, through a few insults, and I'd reply with "how many sheep have been ahem, violated.  We'd tell jokes, and hed take to his bed, and read,  he'd do "find the word"  and various things, ("Just to keep the brain stimulated").

The days went on, he would bathe less and less, but this didn't mean we never went into the woman's part of the ward.  I'd come up with  one,  (as he'd not heard of it (too young)) and we pushed  through the door, into the sunlight.  It was like God was laying on  spotlights.  I frantically looked at the ladies lockers, and found it.  I performed that day, and to be honest, it was crap, but Karl and I wet ourselves with laughter.  I pointed at a bottle of lime cordial  and said, "Buddha, can you spare us a lime".  Only the woman who had the bottle really got it, but we laughed and laughed..

I was on a break, as we didn't work 7  days a week, and when I got back,  Karl had been moved off the ward.  The first thought that comes to mind, is that he'd died while I was off the ward, but it turned out he'd been moved into a side room.   I went to see him, and he seemed to genuinely pleased to see me. He told me that the service had gone downhill when I was off and he demanded his own room.  In reality, we both knew he was dying.

It may have been a moment of synchronicity, the fact that the tune was on his radio, but it was like the radio station had laid our final performance.  It was going to be a two parter, I'd finish, Karl would start..

We pushed through the door (and I wish I could say we knew it would be Karl's final performance, but we didn't) and Karl began.  

"The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when"

He tried to stare at each woman, and there were all waiting for the punchline.  I burst into song,  (or croaked into song..  as my Mum used to say, Our Kenny, Flat as a Fart".

"But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my Buddha!"

We broke records getting into the bathroom,   I could say, that I was warmed up by the red cheeks of embarrassment, but he laughed, and I did.

He was telling me, that he was worried about his daughters.  They'd not told them he was dying.  I told my mentor, and she told me that my class would be in the main hall of the nursing school.  She organised two Macmillan nurses to do s lecture on the subject, but it would mean I'd be off the ward for a couple of days.  I told Karl, and he graciously allowed me the days off. 

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 5

Back on the ward, and Claire tells me to do the care plan for Karl. It’s about time I described the ward. The best description, would be Victorian, and as you enter, you see 3 patient rooms on the right, on the left, there’s a room, for patient’s family to grieve in, a sluice, a small rest/break room, for the nurses, and finally, (well imagine The tablet room from “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”, as it was virtually it’s twin.) Not used for tablets, as we had a tablet round, and two nurses delivered to your bedside, with a smile.

 

Down the right side of the ward (Male side) 6 beds, with a fire escape next to Charlie (Probably not a good idea after, my night on said fire escape). Down the right hand side, 5 beds. Karl was first bed on left, (as you walked in) And Charlie was fourth on the right. The ward was separated by a wall and a pair of central doors, and this lead to the ladies section of the ward. It was a repeat pattern on their side, with a door leading to the bathrooms and showers. The windows where cathedral like, and had large blinds that were drawn at night, and were central to each pair of beds.

 

I went, dragged a chair next to Karl’s bed, and began.

 

I found out the general gist of things, and wrote it down. Karl was an accountant, 32 years old, a beautiful wife, and two kids, (both girls). He loathed his job, as it seemed everybody was trying to buck the tax office. Those that had reasons he helped, gladly but those who’d got money and wanting him to find out ways of making more money, made him feel sick, and he started to drink.

 

It was fine at first, he’d have just the one “to calm him down”. It got worse, and it soon became 3 or 4, and he’d be “calm enough to go home”. Then came the accident, he nearly pranged his car, and came home bleeding. His wife smelt the drink on his breath, and insisted that he needed help, “as she didn’t want her kids to be orphans”.

 

He went to the meetings, and thing were going really well but he was in “toxic” job and the stress led him back to drink. The problem this time, his wife found out, and took herself, and their two daughters away. He was distraught, and he decided that his wife and children were more important, and he stuck it out, until he became a “lemon”.

 

The good news, his wife and children were back in his life, the bad news, he’d “never be a grandfather”, or “walk his kids down the aisle”. I decided to ask him about his “hobbies” (as it was getting a little sad) and he told me he followed “Derby County”. (Now this is like someone from Philadelphia, meeting someone who supports the “New York Giants”, (mortal enemies)). This was because I was a supporter of “Nottingham Forest”. I told him this, and to my surprise, he was genuinely pleased. He told me it was nice for “Charlie”, as there was someone else “demented” on the ward. I hit back with, “Has your firstborn shaved off her wool...” (which I thought was crap, but Derby County’s nickname was “The Rams”).

 

We carried on with the care plan, and he suggested we compare it with the other one. He would check the “professional” one, as I read out my answers. I did quite well, and we were both impressed, as I’d got things that wasn’t on the ward version. We chatted for a little while and he asked me who my mentor was. I told him, and got back to work.

 

Later that morning, I was talking to my mentor, when Karl called to her across, I came with her and he said,

 

Karl - “Can I just say, the quality of care has gone up since Charles has come on the ward, and, and, he’s a really nice guy”.

 

Mentor - “I don’t know about the quality of care, Karl, but your quality of bullshit has improved.”

 

OH well...

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 4

The conversation, went down like a turd being flushed down the toilet. I was rather confident, and started off asking, “What are Charlie’s beliefs?”. To this question, I got a few interesting answers, ranging from, “John Wayne, was the greatest American ever.” to “Coronation Street had gone downhill since Elsie Tanner had left the show”. My first thought was this was useless, and then I thought, at least I’d have something to talk about with him. Then I realised it was just the dragon’s acting, and so anything that I got from this, wouldn’t turn into any use. She waited for me to carry on.

I asked, “What are his religious beliefs?”. This got, “Well he quite likes Buddhism...”, which upset me a little, (Not like he liked Buddhism, but I was not structuring my questions, in a way that got the answer I required). 

 

I tried “Has Charlie got any hobbies?” I got a single answer, but I couldn’t use it. The answer was, “He likes drinking...”. This caused a attack on Charlie’s health care. “Could he have a tot of whiskey? It helps him sleep” was the first assault. Then came the traditional “friend” question, “A friend of mine, told me that he’d had a pint of Guinness, every day while he was in hospital, could Charlie?”. I sat there gob smacked, silent and thinking, “Don’t these people know, that alcohol put Charlie in here?”. It was after this that the dragon took pity, and told me that the whole thing was over.

She told me that nearly every nurse screwed up their first interviews, and that the whole secret was, “planning” and gave me a hand written list of things.

 

“1. Find out all you can about your patient’s health problem. This was detailed, and included what “he could have” and “couldn’t have”.

 

2. Remember, that even if you initially think the family members are “thick as pig shit”, remember that it’s their loved one in the ward, and they are carrying all the fears and worries with them, so they may not give clear answers... So clarify, and reassure and bloody care about these individuals.

 

3. The patients are not a list of symptoms. The patient is NOT the illness. You may find you can use certain symptoms and their effects on a patient, but remember EACH ARE INDIVIDUAL... and some may be able to deal with certain things, others not...

 

The list ran on, and the last read, “Most, if not all the patients on this ward are going to die. A lot know they’re going to die, and accept it, but it doesn’t mean you should feel sorry for them. Feel sorry in your own time, this is a happy ward, and it can be very rewarding, so smile you dumb shit, chat to the patients, and be caring.

Love Claire”.

 

So the Dragon was called Claire and she’d hand written the list the night before.

 

I decided I liked Claire.

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 3

So. I was working with Karl. I set about filling the bowl with warm water, took it back to the table, he’d managed to get his shaving stuff out (Razor, cream and towel) and a couple of sponges. I should really describe him, so here’s my feeble attempt. He had raven black hair, and he was quite good looking, I couldn’t remember his eye colour, so lets say they were blue. This is where his health problems join the fray. His skin was bright yellow, and his stomach was distended, bloated so much, that it looked like a whale breaching the ocean. It was a weird sight as it, didn’t match his physique, which was good. I’d drawn the curtains My memory of him seems to be of conversations, so let’s look at one, while he washes and shaves.

 

Charles - “Hi, has it been mentioned that I’ve got to design a care plan for you?”

Karl - “I’ve got one, and it makes for interesting reading”

Charles - “I’m a student nurse, and.....”

Karl - “Never!. I mean, you’re old, er mature, no old... mature... er older than the normal student”. (I was 41)

Charles - “Like great wine.... I’m more....”

Karl - “Fruity?, Full Bodied?”.

Charles (feeling slightly miffed) - “ So how long have you done this “humour thing?”, cause it needs a little work...”

Karl - “Well Charles, it all started when I woke up and I realised, I’d turned into a lemon. You find you’re carrying 2 illegal immigrants, and you don’t know how they got in there... I think it’s a defence mechanism”.

Charles - “So you’re a little bitter about things?”

Karl - “Shit, that’s great. I’m a bitter lemon... No, not at the moment, but... Ask me tomorrow, when I read about another political scandal, another tin pot dictator, who drinks at his private club, and then I may be a very bitter lemon.”

 

I was just about to carry on with the conversation, when a voice behind the curtains, boomed out, “Karl, is Charles in there? Only I’ve got to quiz him on care plans”. He looks at me and whispers, “Do you want me to fake a heart attack, and you can escape in carnage, a la “Scooby Doo?”. I shake my head warily, and turn to the curtain.

Karl - “Yup, Charles is here, he’s able, fruity and full bodied, and mature, and he’s ready for you.”

He turns to me and says, “Good luck!” and smiles. I walk feeling OK... I’m ready to face the dragon.

I should be there, but I don’t want to be there... BUT I should be there - Part 2

I struggled writing this, as while it contains something that inspires me, every day, but it also contains something of great pain and regret. So don’t read on, if you’re upset by death.

 

The next day, the snow fell. It’s downy feathers caked the earth it that pure pristine whiteness, that looks good on postcards, Christmas cards . This was early, it was dark, coming up to the Christmas period, and each street light had become a conical shaped snow globe. I was full of expectation, and the snow filled my head with joy, as I trudged through it’s purity, leaving only my tracks to mark my passage.

 

The train came, and as I sat down, I pulled out my notebook, and sketched a rough plan on My care plan technique.. Within 17 minutes, (the time it takes a train to get from my station to the city) I’d got an idea how to deal with Charlie’s “Family”. I would play on my age, I was more “mature” than my fellow student nurses. Heck, I was more “mature” than many of the nurses on the ward (but didn’t carry the work experience). I walked on the ward, feeling reasonably confident, but that was punctured by the fact that my mentor, wouldn’t be on my shift that morning. I would be shadowed by a “dragon” of a nurse, and she would be playing Charlie’s “Aunt, brother and sister” during our break. It goes without saying, it wasn’t the nurse I was expecting. It was time to change the game plan. I’d wing it.

 

We went though the morning getting the patients up and ready for breakfast. This meant a wash, a shave or a shower for those more capable, (Even though you asked, as we promoted independence) and I, like a fool, hadn’t asked during hand over, but smugly thought, I’ll check their care plans. I’d made it to the edge of Charlie’s bed, and was intercepted by the “dragon”.

 

“Naughty”, she waved her index finger, (like those nannies from the films of the 40’s would do), and told me to “ask her”. We walked away from the bed, and I was told “Charlie was a sweetie”, all I needed to do was collect a change of clothes, a towel, and his cleaning bag, walk him to one of the two shower bays, make sure the water was warm enough for him, and “leave him to it. With him being a “flight risk” after last night, check on him every five minutes. You then check on Karl, who makes the decision based on his pain levels. If it’s bad he has a bowl, if he’s feeling OK, you’ll have to help shower him”.

 

Looking after to Charlie was fairly simple, I made sure the water, was like Goldilocks warm, set his slippers, robe, fresh pajamas, on a rail. and told him to “ring” if he had difficulty. I then went to Karl. “Good morning Karl, my name is Charles, I will be your nurse for today, what do you require, bowl or shower?” He replied, “Good morning Charles, I’ve come here to die, and I think I’ll have a bowl”. OK I was taken back by this, and I thought I’d clear, something up.

Charles - “What now?”

 

Karl - ”?”

Charles - “You’re dying now?”

Karl - “Nah, not until after breakfast... You can’t die on an empty stomach...”

Charles - “Oh OK”.

Karl - “and Charles....”

Charles - “What?”

Karl - “Stop sounding like a effing air hostess...”

 

I had my first encounter with Karl, and it was glorious....

I don’t want to be here... honestly... I don’t want to be here.... Part one

It was the week back and we’d all been assigned places that were challenging. My placement was on a ward where all were dying due to alcohol abuse. My mentor assigned me two patients and I would have to care for them during my four week placement, and I was expected to take the “obs”, (Blood pressure, temperature etc) through the day at a regular time. I would be able to administer drugs but under strict observation. It was interesting, but not as interesting as the Christmas week, I spent with one of my patients.

 

I had two diametrically different patients, one called “Charlie” who, (for my American friends, looked like “Gomer Pyle”, and for the Brits, “Trigger”) was a streaky tall guy, who had no visitors, and spent most of his days on the ward dressed in a “Wee Willy Winky” type night dress, and purple slippers. He did have a dressing gown but rarely wore it. I can’t remember his age but he was older that me, at the time.. He suffered from hallucinations and tremours.

 

My other patient was a “Stockbroker” type, “Carl”, around 32 and he was dying. He was in the end stage of liver disease, and his skin was yellow and his stomach was so bloated he was unable to close his pajama tops. He was a really nice guy, who through pressures of work. turned to drink as “a crutch” and when he realised it was destroying his marriage, he decided to stop, but by then, it was too late. He was small and due to his stomach swelling, looked chunky.

 

It was the Christmas week, and we’d got snow, which I liked. The streets looked like they were drowning in peppermint icing, and there were large flakes falling for the steel grey skies. I’d done a week on morning and this was my first week on nights (ever) and I don’t mind telling you, I was crapping myself. The train ran late as the temperature had dropped and the rails had ice on them and it was still snowing. I’d actually planned for this and caught an earlier train, but the bus to the hospital played at aquaplaning in the snow, and so I was a jangle of nerves when I arrived.

 

During handover, we were informed about how each patient was, and I was told to watch Charlie as he’d been a little “Antsy” but he was fast asleep now and “should be fine”. I was told by my mentor, that nights usually were easy, and she’d get me to write care plans for both “Charlie” and “Karl” and we’d spend the end of the night comparing them to the real thing, as care plans were “the rocks on which we build care”.

 

The ward was shrouded in dimness, with oases of light from each bay and the nursing stations. there were four nurses on, two were in the office catching up with paperwork, and two on the actual ward. We’d done the first round of “obs” and things were going okay. My mentor told me that she’d fetch my both “Charlie” and “Karl”’s paperwork and the blank care plans and I could get to work, and so for 5 minutes, I was the only “nurse” on the ward.

 

I was so diligent, my eyes scanned the bays, like spotlights, and I was dreading a ringing of the “Nurse” needed. It was then that I noticed that the curtains around “Charlie”’s bed were moving. They were swaying as if blown by an unseen wind. I’d been told that the “dead” walk the wards were there’s so much death, and so I marched forward, slowly, and pulled “Charlie”’s curtains back only to reveal... no “Charlie”.

 

I quickly looked around, and noticed the fire escape door was open. I rushed towards it, and hit a wall of snow and ice. It was blizzard conditions out there and we were 3 floors up. I looked down, and there was “Charlie, looking like a refugee from a poor man’s version of “Scrooge”. His hat was blowing with the wind, and I could only see the tops of his purple slippers.

 

I knew I’d have to get him back in the ward, and so I quickly worked my way down the fire escape, only to realise, that underneath the snow, was a layer of treacherous ice. Things that went through my head at the time. I had visions of slipping and falling and sliding passed “Charlie”. His “junk” waving as I slipped by, and my last view of earth would be “Charlie”’s genitals, as I plunged to my death.

I, though more luck than judgement, caught him, and then he announced he was “going down the pub”. I pointed out that it was 3am, and “the pubs were closed”. This got the reply, “It’s okay, I know where there’s a “shut in” (This is a pub that stays open for the locals, and locks it’s doors) and we’d both be welcome”. and we’d only go for “the one”... I pointed out he wasn’t dressed for it, and he pointed out it was a “festive” outfit. I really didn’t want to be there.

 

Matters were solved when I informed him, “I’d have to clock out” and I’d book a taxi and at least “we’d be nice and warm when we got to the pub...” and we marched back up to the ward, to meet a concerned mentor, and her words were a little more “Fruity”. “For F**K’s Sake, Charlie, I’m freezing my tits off, and you’ll be looking for a welding torch to put your balls back on..”. We got back on the ward, and my mentor fetched the other two nurses, who took over, while I warmed up, and was told that “I would never forget this” and I never have. Hence me typing this.

Donne said "No Man is an Island" and...

I'd disagree, but a man who is an island, may be part of an archipelago.  OK this is a bizarre way to talk about the internet, but the more I see of it, the more powerful the idea becomes.