34 Patients by Tom Templeton

Author:Tom Templeton [Templeton, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781405944663
Published: 2020-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

Octopus Trap

Helena was dragged out of the river that runs through the meadows by passers-by. It was about ten on a warm midsummer evening but she was fully clothed and they thought she was drowning. When they got her to the riverbank she was agitated and by the time the paramedics arrived she was screaming so loudly that the horses in the meadows were spooked and started galloping away.

At the hospital it is clear that she is high on something. Her pupils are big black coins, her heart rate is galloping, she has a fever, and her limbs posture stiffly. She is so agitated the security team have to hold her down so we can get the cannula in. We give her a shot of something to calm her down, send off bloods, then leave her in a cubicle to sleep.

When I shout for Alex, the next patient, three times over the humming crowd, no one answers. I place his triage card back on the pile but one of the nurses working nearby points and says, ‘He’s that one in the Stone Roses T-shirt.’

I wave and a stocky fellow stands up with buzz-cut hair, shorts and a T-shirt all green and white Jackson Pollock paint splashes punctuated with three slices of lemon.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I called.’

The man smiles at me. ‘I’m deaf,’ he says in a slightly mushy voice. ‘I must have missed your lips moving.’

Sitting opposite me in the cubicle, Alex describes excruciating stomach pains that came on suddenly earlier today and have persisted into the night. The rest of the history he gives is nondescript and provides no clues as to what might be going on.

‘I’ve never felt anything like it before,’ he says, pulling up the T-shirt and putting his hands behind his head as he lies on the couch. ‘It lasted all day.’

As I press into his tummy it seems reassuringly soft.

‘I love the Stone Roses,’ I say, and to my surprise at this Alex starts sobbing, tears pouring out of his eyes, nose streaming, body shaking with emotion.

I grab a block of tissues from the sink dispenser and get him sitting upright and hand them to him. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask as he dabs at his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘The Roses were my girlfriend’s favourite band …’

‘What happened?’

‘She broke up with me.’

‘When did this happen?’

‘Today,’ he says.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.

Together we work out that the stomach pains started immediately after she made it clear that she wasn’t going to change her mind. Alex was so strung out he hadn’t made the connection. We talk about what he should do, who he can talk to, how to get through this time. Just talking about her seems to make him feel better. And, after a while, he smiles through the tears, and says, ‘The pain’s gone.’

The next patient, Dorothy, is already in a cubicle, lying on the bed, thin, frail and grey, looking straight ahead. Her impassive face looks almost like a mask.

‘How are you feeling, Dorothy?’

She lies there staring straight ahead not seeming to have heard.

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