Cardiac Arrest (1994–1996): Season 1, Episode 1 - Welcome to the House of Pain - full transcript
(Laughing, shrieking)
(Boy) When | grow up,
/ want to be a doctor.
Cos when people get sick,
/ want to make them better.
(Siren)
(Radio traffic news)
(Groans)
(Squeaks)
— Oh!
— You must have had a skinful Last night.
You're telling me.
Well, you can always miss today's lectures.
| stopped being a student six months ago.
— I'm a doctor.
— (Laughs) Yes!
— Is there a room 12 in this block?
— Next floor up.
Er, thought I'd move in a day early.
— Dr Turner's new houseman.
— That's my job.
Great! Maybe | could shadow you
for some of today?
Keen, aren't you?
You look like a monkey slept on your face.
— (Beeping)
— Raj come to Crippen Ward, urgently.
Where the hell have you been? Mrs Kelly's
BP's right down. Her rate's only 30.
Bring in the arrest trolley.
Atropine 600 micrograms, stat, please.
(Regular beeping)
Fast AF. Well done, Claire.
We're losing output. Raj, sync shock 200,
please. Let's cardio her.
FAB, Virgil.
(Defibrillator whines)
Clear.
SVT, poor output. Sync shock 100, please.
(Defibrillator whines)
Clear.
— Decent output with that.
— No worries.
You wait.
She's maintaining output
despite the rhythm. She needs a wire.
Are you gonna take her to CCU
for temporary pacing?
No, | thought I'd do it here with
a rusty coat hanger and an old car battery.
This is Claire Maitland. I've got a lady here
who's just gone into complete heart block.
Great. Whenever you can fit us in.
Thank you.
You remember
what Dr Turner said yesterday?
It was felt that if
Mrs Kelly's condition deteriorated,
aggressive treatment
would be inappropriate.
I've yet to see objective evidence
why her heart and lungs won't work
— if we can get her through this.
— Listen to me, Claire. Listen.
— She's gonna die.
— Yes.
And this kind of death
is a potentially treatable condition.
Hello, Mum. Hi, it's me.
Yeah, I've arrived.
Are your digs really awful?
(Hesitantly) No, don't be silly.
It's a really nice room
and everyone seems really friendly.
— Give me the scores on the doors.
— We're down to nine on Crippen Ward.
The main worry is Albert Gray,
the asbestos worker with lung cancer.
They say everything gives you cancer
these days.
Next they'll be telling us smoking causes it.
| don't need to remind you that smoking
on hospital premises is strictly forbidden.
Nevertheless, Albert Gray.
I'm worried about how much he's going off.
His gases haven't come up
on 24% oxygen.
We can't increase the concentration
because he's a CO? retainer.
He's on nebs and steroids.
Neither physios nor antibiotics
have had any joy clearing his chest
and Dr Turner's vetoed
a doxapram infusion.
Dr Maitland, | can't help but be worried
when a patient on my ward...
— Our patient, too.
— Dr Turner's patient.
| run this firm at ground level.
Where the hell's Dr Turner at 4am,
when this place is the Alamo?
I'LL see you on the ward round.
(Phone)
Crippen Ward.
Answering machine speaking.
(Man's voice)
It's for you. Mel Gibson again.
— And...Dr Turner's here.
— I'll be out in a minute.
Claire Maitland.
If he's bleeding, it's not my problem.
If he's coughing it up, it's respiratory.
If it's in his brain, it's neurological.
If it's in his urine, it's renal.
Anywhere else is surgical.
Morning.
— Can you please sign that?
— Do it later.
Good morning, Claire.
Raj has been telling me all about Mr Gray.
Morning, Dr Turner. We've yet
to grow anything in his sputum,
so I've discontinued antibiotics.
He's not been taking anything orally,
so I've written him up for a slow IVI
— to keep him comfortable.
— Quite right. Poor chap.
If he does experience any distress,
an opiate infusion will be entirely appropriate.
Yes, Dr Turner.
Aha.
Mr Taylor's set for home
when his TTOs arrive, Doctor.
Good. But remember, no work until
I've seen you at an outpatients’ clinic.
— What is your job again, sir?
— |'m on the cabs.
Oh, taxi driver, eh?
Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable
if | went round the other side of the bed
and you could talk to me
over your shoulder.
— Good luck.
— Thank you.
— Bye-bye, Mr Taylor.
— Bye.
— Bye-bye.
— Bye.
— (Phone)
— Excuse me one moment.
— (Man speaking)
— What's the tee—off time?
Who have you got me for a partner?
Oh, no!
— Morning, James.
— Morning, Dr Turner.
Good morning, Sister.
May | take a peek at Mrs Bennett?
Ah, yes, she's in the second bed on the left
and her notes are in the trolley.
You wouldn't have time for a cup of tea,
would you, Doctor?
How nice, Sister, but I'm due back
in theatre in a couple of minutes.
— The Warren flaming Beatty of the NHS.
— In his imagination.
Have you got Mrs Bennett's files?
— I'll take your money now, mate.
— Oh, yeah? Anything else?
No, | was just checking
to see if one of the old dears
is ready for Mr Betancourt's list tomorrow.
Raj, mate, you're just gonna love him.
— Morning, Mrs Bennett.
— Morning.
Screw Betancourt.
Who's your new SHO gonna be?
Monica Broome.
She who will expect me to worship
such pagan gods as dedication, hard work,
punctuality and personal hygiene.
(Pager beeping)
Hello?
Right, I'll retake the sample straightaway
and shoot them down to the lab myself.
Could you put up some more saline
on Mr Johnson when you've got a minute?
Monica, where in heaven's name
is Mrs Pandit's U&Es?
I'm about to scrub for colososectomy.
If that patient isn't consented,
it'll be you who ends up
on the operating table.
You need to go round the patients
for my ward round tomorrow
and get the X-rays together by Lunch time.
Or have you forgotten
you are presenting in the meeting?
No, Mr Betancourt. Everything's in hand,
| can assure you.
— Phone call for you, Monica.
— Thank you.
Well, answer it, then. I'm not having
the running of my firm compromised
because you're too busy
messing about in the storeroom
to answer a telephone call.
Hello? Darling, I've told you not to call
Mummy at work because she's...
Monica, Monica, Monica,
surgery and motherhood are incompatible.
You can't be dithering over an appendix
because little Suzie's grazed her knee
or it's Brownies night.
Thank God we're getting
a new houseman on Monday.
With any luck, we'll be joined by
a diligent, conscientious young man
who'll bend over backwards to provide
the support you so obviously need.
Hello. Did you go swimming, then?
What are you doing here?
| just popped in to hand over my bleep
to the new bloke.
Well, give it me and you can get off.
Claire. Listen, | was wondering,
with us not working together any more...
| was wondering if maybe you'd fancied
going out together for a drink sometime.
No.
Just look at him.
— Excuse me.
— Sorry.
SOITy.
Erm...
Five minutes with you
will set him straight.
That long?
Look, Raj, I'll see you. Bye.
Never fancied her, anyway.
— Are you Dr Turner's new houseman?
— Yes, | am. Andrew Collin.
I'm Claire Maitland. I'll be your SHO
on this firm.
Look, I'm already Late for outpatients.
There's supposed to be
an induction course
for new house officers this morning but
there's far too much to do on the wards.
Just...get on with things and
ILL catch up with you this afternoon.
— Erm, this...
— Don't worry. You'll soon pick it up.
Hello. I'm Sister. Now, these
treatment sheets need rewriting.
— Mr Seaton needs writing up for analgesia.
— (Pager)
Mrs Pandit's waiting for her TTOs.
Mr Simpson needs his drip rota doing.
Now, these blood results need
to be looked at and filed in the notes.
And, of course, sorting out
if they're abnormal.
These forms are for bloods
that need to be taken this morning.
But before you see to that, I'd like you
to have a peep at Mr Gray for me.
He's worked all his life with asbestos.
— Now he's got mesothelioma.
— Oh.
So, er, where have you worked before,
then?
— Oh, today's my first day as a doctor.
— Oh.
(Whispers) Excuse me.
There's more holes in me
than in a goal net.
Perhaps you ought to leave it for Claire.
I'm really sorry.
— I'll get some Lunch.
— Before you go, Andrew...
| think there's a catheter that's blocked.
Could you help me with these, please?
— Firstly, my name's Annie.
— Oh, sorry. I'm Andrew.
And, secondly, the doctors
normally do that themselves.
(Quiet chatting)
Rape! Rape! You're stabbing me
with that needle!
Jack, Jack, come and help me.
He's stabbing me. Rape. Rape.
It's all done now, all done.
All the warfarin doses
need writing up for tonight.
Does the glucose go in the yellow tube
or the blue one?
Grey.
(Pager)
Hiya.
Hi.
— How was clinic?
— Nightmare, as usual.
Can | ask you something?
About Albert Gray.
Some say he'll last the week.
| think it's gonna be a photo-—finish.
He's been diagnosed having a chest infection,
but he's not on any antibiotics.
His problems go
way beyond a chest infection.
Even if we get him over this,
he'll not get better. He'll die in that bed.
— Are we just...giving up on him?
— Andrew, it's your first day.
| just wondered,
maybe we should get antibiotics anyway.
Forget antibiotics. We should prescribe
a pine box.
You're all right, love. You're fine now.
We'd just like to say,
and say for Albert too,
how grateful we are
for all that's been done for him.
(Wheezing)
We'll do everything we can, Albert.
| promise.
Right, Albert Gray.
67-year-old patient of Dr Turner's.
Mesothelioma. He's very poorly, I'm afraid.
So, is Andrew
Dr Turner's new houseman, then?
Yeah.
He looks like he's gonna burst into tears
any minute.
Yeah, but they all do when they first start,
don't they?
Couldn't you just give him
a little cuddle, eh?
Not me, of course. No, no, no.
| prefer them like our Roy —
a pump~—action, sexual dynamo!
He'd do for...our Caroline, though.
— Oh, no way.
— | don't think so.
Anyway, on. Betty Kelly.
Now, she's a 58-year-old patient
of Dr Turner.
She has heart failure,
she's on dobutamine,
she was paced yesterday morning
but she still hasn't taken
any sort of turn for the better.
Putting her through all that in her state,
| think it's cruel
Well, we just do what we're told.
Don't we, girls?
— Yep.
— We do.
It's time for your catheter to go in now,
Mr Johnson.
I'm just shoving it up the pipe
— inside your penis.
— (Yelps)
Next, I'm negotiating the chicane
down the end of the urethra.
Right-hand down a bit, and all that,
and sliding by the prostate gland.
Some people would pay a fortune
to have this done to them
by a Filipino hand maiden. Oh...
Here comes the urine.
Looks like we're safely inside the bladder.
While nursey connects it to a bag,
I'm gonna inject a small amount of water
to inflate a balloon that will fix it in place
so it won't drop out when you're doing
your shopping or whatever.
Lisa, where's the saline?
Oh, I've got a mind like a sieve, me.
Leave it. | can't be arsed.
(Gasps)
(Pager)
(Beeping fades)
It's gone five. Tidy up for us, Lisa.
There's a love.
(Man) Doc? Doc!
What?
— Is there any sign of me kidney stone yet?
— How many times have | told you?
It was thrown away after the operation.
sorry, Doc.
It's just...would have been nice
to have something to show the family.
Let them see for themselves
what's been up me...
tube all these years, giving us gyp.
OK. OK, I'll have a sniff round tomorrow
and I'll find your bleeding kidney stone
if it kills me.
Cheers, Doc.
(Pager)
Please contact coronary care urgently.
Betty Kelly. She's now stable.
| shan't be in here...much longer, shall I?
We'll wean you off these drips over
the next few days, then you can go home.
Good. My windows will need washing
by now.
Excuse me, love.
Do we know each other?
No. No, we don't.
(Dripping)
(Pager)
Cardiac arrest , repeat, cardiac arrest.
(Sighs)
— No tea.
— No bread.
Shit.
I'LL go and nick some stuff
off one of the wards.
You inform Amnesty International
of our plight.
(Pager)
Call Casualiy on 3-—7-O-2
(Beeps)
(Desperate wheezing)
(Gasping)
| can free him.
(Mutters)
(Groans)
If you're unsure of yourself,
maybe you should call the RMO.
But |... Maybe,
Erm...what do you think?
You're the doctor.
Right. Tea’s up.
Claire, please call 2650.
Here's a face that would stop a clock.
Cheer up, misery—chops.
(Phone)
Yeah, erm, I've been called to the ward
to see Albert Gray. He's in a terrible state.
It's my new houseman. First day and
he thinks he's Dr sodding Kildare.
Tell him to hurry up.
My wife's back tomorrow.
PR and diamorph. And when you
ring me in the middle of the night,
make it for something important,
like my hair being on fire.
— Isn't there anything more we can do?
— Albert Gray is a dying man who's dying.
(Pager)
Oh! Oh, God!
It's the same for everyone. All that stuff
they teach you in medical school
and no one even shows you
how to set up a drip.
So, what's it like to be a doctor at last?
| had no idea it would be like this.
— How's Albert this morning?
— Dead.
I've certified Mr Gray.
You'll be pleased to know
he wanted cremating.
With that amount of asbestos in his lungs,
it'll probably take a couple of weeks.
| know he was terminally ill. | just feel
there was more that could've been done.
— There wasn't.
— | don't know.
Look, call me an old softie, but I'LL let
you have the ash cash for Albert Gray.
— What?
— I'll let you fill in the cremation forms.
— 31 quid for ten minutes’ work.
— Can | stop you for just a moment, please?
| wonder if you're familiar with
Amazingoprill,
an ACE—inhibitor we've just brought
onto the market. My company...
Why don't you just get out of my face?
Are we... Are we meant to save lives
or speed their end?
Andrew, it's time you realised
that medical school is over.
Albert Gray received the highest standard
of medical care.
My judgment was to pull the plug
because prolonging a patient's death
isn't the same as prolonging his life.
I've got no patience
with your misplaced concern.
Your job is to make the decisions
that everyone else runs away from
and dumps on you, the doctor.
(Giggling)
Mrs Temple continues to have
abdominal pain, Mr Docherty.
We did an X-ray
but we were wondering if she might have
an inferior mesenteric artery thrombosis.
| think the X—ray's the most marvellous
adjunct to modern medical practice.
When | first started, we had to
draw the curtains round the ward
and put the patient up against a bright light.
(Laughs)
Yes. (Clears throat)
I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr Docherty.
| just removed this fluid
— when | took out Mr Johnson's catheter.
— | say. How odd, Sister.
— I've never seen anything like it.
— How very odd, Sister.
Possibly, we're dealing with
some urinary sepsis.
| think we should send it off
to Microbiology for MC&S.
We need to do an urgent U&Es profile,
blood cultures
and we need to do serial EMUs
for three days.
No need for all those fancy tests.
(Clears throat)
(Belches) Tea, white, one sugar.
We were out of saline when | catheterised
Mr Johnson, so | used tea instead.
Good lad. Thinks on his feet, what?
Onward, Dr Broome, onward.
My stone. Cheers, Doc.
Marvellous. Marvellous.
| thought his kidney stone
was chucked away after the operation.
It was. He was nagging me so much,
| got him a specimen pot,
— put his name on it and found him a stone.
— So whose stone's that?
No one's. That's a piece of gravel | fetched
from the car park in my Lunch hour.
Sorry to trouble you, Andrew.
Mr Gray's relatives are in the office.
— You mean | have to go and...?
— Mm.
Not being funny, Sister,
but I've never really...
Look, it should be the doctor
that talks to them now, shouldn't it?
— Fancy a quick beer before home?
— | don't drink.
(Clears throat)
— Mrs Gray...
— You look tired, Doctor.
— Why don't you have a seat?
— Oh. No.
Please, I'm...
fine, thanks. Er, | wanted to, erm...
As you know, Albert, er,
was...not a well man.
He had mesothelioma secondary.
Well, he had this kind of...Lung cancer
which came on
because he was exposed to asbes...
Well, probably because
he was exposed to asbestos.
We can never know for sure, 100%,
Still, he was...
He wasn't a well man.
Erm, we gave him...injections...
and oxygen, nebulisers and I, er...
We did everything that we could for him.
In the end, er...
there was nothing that we could do.
Erm...
Actually, if there's anything...
you want to ask me...
Well, how is Albert now?
Is he very bad? Is that what you're saying?
No, Mrs Gray...
Albert, erm...has passed away.
Thank you, Doctor.
I'd like to see him.
Soon you'll worry
how little all this affects you,
not how much.
(Boy) When | grow up,
/ want to be a doctor.
Cos when people get sick,
/ want to make them better.
(Siren)
(Radio traffic news)
(Groans)
(Squeaks)
— Oh!
— You must have had a skinful Last night.
You're telling me.
Well, you can always miss today's lectures.
| stopped being a student six months ago.
— I'm a doctor.
— (Laughs) Yes!
— Is there a room 12 in this block?
— Next floor up.
Er, thought I'd move in a day early.
— Dr Turner's new houseman.
— That's my job.
Great! Maybe | could shadow you
for some of today?
Keen, aren't you?
You look like a monkey slept on your face.
— (Beeping)
— Raj come to Crippen Ward, urgently.
Where the hell have you been? Mrs Kelly's
BP's right down. Her rate's only 30.
Bring in the arrest trolley.
Atropine 600 micrograms, stat, please.
(Regular beeping)
Fast AF. Well done, Claire.
We're losing output. Raj, sync shock 200,
please. Let's cardio her.
FAB, Virgil.
(Defibrillator whines)
Clear.
SVT, poor output. Sync shock 100, please.
(Defibrillator whines)
Clear.
— Decent output with that.
— No worries.
You wait.
She's maintaining output
despite the rhythm. She needs a wire.
Are you gonna take her to CCU
for temporary pacing?
No, | thought I'd do it here with
a rusty coat hanger and an old car battery.
This is Claire Maitland. I've got a lady here
who's just gone into complete heart block.
Great. Whenever you can fit us in.
Thank you.
You remember
what Dr Turner said yesterday?
It was felt that if
Mrs Kelly's condition deteriorated,
aggressive treatment
would be inappropriate.
I've yet to see objective evidence
why her heart and lungs won't work
— if we can get her through this.
— Listen to me, Claire. Listen.
— She's gonna die.
— Yes.
And this kind of death
is a potentially treatable condition.
Hello, Mum. Hi, it's me.
Yeah, I've arrived.
Are your digs really awful?
(Hesitantly) No, don't be silly.
It's a really nice room
and everyone seems really friendly.
— Give me the scores on the doors.
— We're down to nine on Crippen Ward.
The main worry is Albert Gray,
the asbestos worker with lung cancer.
They say everything gives you cancer
these days.
Next they'll be telling us smoking causes it.
| don't need to remind you that smoking
on hospital premises is strictly forbidden.
Nevertheless, Albert Gray.
I'm worried about how much he's going off.
His gases haven't come up
on 24% oxygen.
We can't increase the concentration
because he's a CO? retainer.
He's on nebs and steroids.
Neither physios nor antibiotics
have had any joy clearing his chest
and Dr Turner's vetoed
a doxapram infusion.
Dr Maitland, | can't help but be worried
when a patient on my ward...
— Our patient, too.
— Dr Turner's patient.
| run this firm at ground level.
Where the hell's Dr Turner at 4am,
when this place is the Alamo?
I'LL see you on the ward round.
(Phone)
Crippen Ward.
Answering machine speaking.
(Man's voice)
It's for you. Mel Gibson again.
— And...Dr Turner's here.
— I'll be out in a minute.
Claire Maitland.
If he's bleeding, it's not my problem.
If he's coughing it up, it's respiratory.
If it's in his brain, it's neurological.
If it's in his urine, it's renal.
Anywhere else is surgical.
Morning.
— Can you please sign that?
— Do it later.
Good morning, Claire.
Raj has been telling me all about Mr Gray.
Morning, Dr Turner. We've yet
to grow anything in his sputum,
so I've discontinued antibiotics.
He's not been taking anything orally,
so I've written him up for a slow IVI
— to keep him comfortable.
— Quite right. Poor chap.
If he does experience any distress,
an opiate infusion will be entirely appropriate.
Yes, Dr Turner.
Aha.
Mr Taylor's set for home
when his TTOs arrive, Doctor.
Good. But remember, no work until
I've seen you at an outpatients’ clinic.
— What is your job again, sir?
— |'m on the cabs.
Oh, taxi driver, eh?
Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable
if | went round the other side of the bed
and you could talk to me
over your shoulder.
— Good luck.
— Thank you.
— Bye-bye, Mr Taylor.
— Bye.
— Bye-bye.
— Bye.
— (Phone)
— Excuse me one moment.
— (Man speaking)
— What's the tee—off time?
Who have you got me for a partner?
Oh, no!
— Morning, James.
— Morning, Dr Turner.
Good morning, Sister.
May | take a peek at Mrs Bennett?
Ah, yes, she's in the second bed on the left
and her notes are in the trolley.
You wouldn't have time for a cup of tea,
would you, Doctor?
How nice, Sister, but I'm due back
in theatre in a couple of minutes.
— The Warren flaming Beatty of the NHS.
— In his imagination.
Have you got Mrs Bennett's files?
— I'll take your money now, mate.
— Oh, yeah? Anything else?
No, | was just checking
to see if one of the old dears
is ready for Mr Betancourt's list tomorrow.
Raj, mate, you're just gonna love him.
— Morning, Mrs Bennett.
— Morning.
Screw Betancourt.
Who's your new SHO gonna be?
Monica Broome.
She who will expect me to worship
such pagan gods as dedication, hard work,
punctuality and personal hygiene.
(Pager beeping)
Hello?
Right, I'll retake the sample straightaway
and shoot them down to the lab myself.
Could you put up some more saline
on Mr Johnson when you've got a minute?
Monica, where in heaven's name
is Mrs Pandit's U&Es?
I'm about to scrub for colososectomy.
If that patient isn't consented,
it'll be you who ends up
on the operating table.
You need to go round the patients
for my ward round tomorrow
and get the X-rays together by Lunch time.
Or have you forgotten
you are presenting in the meeting?
No, Mr Betancourt. Everything's in hand,
| can assure you.
— Phone call for you, Monica.
— Thank you.
Well, answer it, then. I'm not having
the running of my firm compromised
because you're too busy
messing about in the storeroom
to answer a telephone call.
Hello? Darling, I've told you not to call
Mummy at work because she's...
Monica, Monica, Monica,
surgery and motherhood are incompatible.
You can't be dithering over an appendix
because little Suzie's grazed her knee
or it's Brownies night.
Thank God we're getting
a new houseman on Monday.
With any luck, we'll be joined by
a diligent, conscientious young man
who'll bend over backwards to provide
the support you so obviously need.
Hello. Did you go swimming, then?
What are you doing here?
| just popped in to hand over my bleep
to the new bloke.
Well, give it me and you can get off.
Claire. Listen, | was wondering,
with us not working together any more...
| was wondering if maybe you'd fancied
going out together for a drink sometime.
No.
Just look at him.
— Excuse me.
— Sorry.
SOITy.
Erm...
Five minutes with you
will set him straight.
That long?
Look, Raj, I'll see you. Bye.
Never fancied her, anyway.
— Are you Dr Turner's new houseman?
— Yes, | am. Andrew Collin.
I'm Claire Maitland. I'll be your SHO
on this firm.
Look, I'm already Late for outpatients.
There's supposed to be
an induction course
for new house officers this morning but
there's far too much to do on the wards.
Just...get on with things and
ILL catch up with you this afternoon.
— Erm, this...
— Don't worry. You'll soon pick it up.
Hello. I'm Sister. Now, these
treatment sheets need rewriting.
— Mr Seaton needs writing up for analgesia.
— (Pager)
Mrs Pandit's waiting for her TTOs.
Mr Simpson needs his drip rota doing.
Now, these blood results need
to be looked at and filed in the notes.
And, of course, sorting out
if they're abnormal.
These forms are for bloods
that need to be taken this morning.
But before you see to that, I'd like you
to have a peep at Mr Gray for me.
He's worked all his life with asbestos.
— Now he's got mesothelioma.
— Oh.
So, er, where have you worked before,
then?
— Oh, today's my first day as a doctor.
— Oh.
(Whispers) Excuse me.
There's more holes in me
than in a goal net.
Perhaps you ought to leave it for Claire.
I'm really sorry.
— I'll get some Lunch.
— Before you go, Andrew...
| think there's a catheter that's blocked.
Could you help me with these, please?
— Firstly, my name's Annie.
— Oh, sorry. I'm Andrew.
And, secondly, the doctors
normally do that themselves.
(Quiet chatting)
Rape! Rape! You're stabbing me
with that needle!
Jack, Jack, come and help me.
He's stabbing me. Rape. Rape.
It's all done now, all done.
All the warfarin doses
need writing up for tonight.
Does the glucose go in the yellow tube
or the blue one?
Grey.
(Pager)
Hiya.
Hi.
— How was clinic?
— Nightmare, as usual.
Can | ask you something?
About Albert Gray.
Some say he'll last the week.
| think it's gonna be a photo-—finish.
He's been diagnosed having a chest infection,
but he's not on any antibiotics.
His problems go
way beyond a chest infection.
Even if we get him over this,
he'll not get better. He'll die in that bed.
— Are we just...giving up on him?
— Andrew, it's your first day.
| just wondered,
maybe we should get antibiotics anyway.
Forget antibiotics. We should prescribe
a pine box.
You're all right, love. You're fine now.
We'd just like to say,
and say for Albert too,
how grateful we are
for all that's been done for him.
(Wheezing)
We'll do everything we can, Albert.
| promise.
Right, Albert Gray.
67-year-old patient of Dr Turner's.
Mesothelioma. He's very poorly, I'm afraid.
So, is Andrew
Dr Turner's new houseman, then?
Yeah.
He looks like he's gonna burst into tears
any minute.
Yeah, but they all do when they first start,
don't they?
Couldn't you just give him
a little cuddle, eh?
Not me, of course. No, no, no.
| prefer them like our Roy —
a pump~—action, sexual dynamo!
He'd do for...our Caroline, though.
— Oh, no way.
— | don't think so.
Anyway, on. Betty Kelly.
Now, she's a 58-year-old patient
of Dr Turner.
She has heart failure,
she's on dobutamine,
she was paced yesterday morning
but she still hasn't taken
any sort of turn for the better.
Putting her through all that in her state,
| think it's cruel
Well, we just do what we're told.
Don't we, girls?
— Yep.
— We do.
It's time for your catheter to go in now,
Mr Johnson.
I'm just shoving it up the pipe
— inside your penis.
— (Yelps)
Next, I'm negotiating the chicane
down the end of the urethra.
Right-hand down a bit, and all that,
and sliding by the prostate gland.
Some people would pay a fortune
to have this done to them
by a Filipino hand maiden. Oh...
Here comes the urine.
Looks like we're safely inside the bladder.
While nursey connects it to a bag,
I'm gonna inject a small amount of water
to inflate a balloon that will fix it in place
so it won't drop out when you're doing
your shopping or whatever.
Lisa, where's the saline?
Oh, I've got a mind like a sieve, me.
Leave it. | can't be arsed.
(Gasps)
(Pager)
(Beeping fades)
It's gone five. Tidy up for us, Lisa.
There's a love.
(Man) Doc? Doc!
What?
— Is there any sign of me kidney stone yet?
— How many times have | told you?
It was thrown away after the operation.
sorry, Doc.
It's just...would have been nice
to have something to show the family.
Let them see for themselves
what's been up me...
tube all these years, giving us gyp.
OK. OK, I'll have a sniff round tomorrow
and I'll find your bleeding kidney stone
if it kills me.
Cheers, Doc.
(Pager)
Please contact coronary care urgently.
Betty Kelly. She's now stable.
| shan't be in here...much longer, shall I?
We'll wean you off these drips over
the next few days, then you can go home.
Good. My windows will need washing
by now.
Excuse me, love.
Do we know each other?
No. No, we don't.
(Dripping)
(Pager)
Cardiac arrest , repeat, cardiac arrest.
(Sighs)
— No tea.
— No bread.
Shit.
I'LL go and nick some stuff
off one of the wards.
You inform Amnesty International
of our plight.
(Pager)
Call Casualiy on 3-—7-O-2
(Beeps)
(Desperate wheezing)
(Gasping)
| can free him.
(Mutters)
(Groans)
If you're unsure of yourself,
maybe you should call the RMO.
But |... Maybe,
Erm...what do you think?
You're the doctor.
Right. Tea’s up.
Claire, please call 2650.
Here's a face that would stop a clock.
Cheer up, misery—chops.
(Phone)
Yeah, erm, I've been called to the ward
to see Albert Gray. He's in a terrible state.
It's my new houseman. First day and
he thinks he's Dr sodding Kildare.
Tell him to hurry up.
My wife's back tomorrow.
PR and diamorph. And when you
ring me in the middle of the night,
make it for something important,
like my hair being on fire.
— Isn't there anything more we can do?
— Albert Gray is a dying man who's dying.
(Pager)
Oh! Oh, God!
It's the same for everyone. All that stuff
they teach you in medical school
and no one even shows you
how to set up a drip.
So, what's it like to be a doctor at last?
| had no idea it would be like this.
— How's Albert this morning?
— Dead.
I've certified Mr Gray.
You'll be pleased to know
he wanted cremating.
With that amount of asbestos in his lungs,
it'll probably take a couple of weeks.
| know he was terminally ill. | just feel
there was more that could've been done.
— There wasn't.
— | don't know.
Look, call me an old softie, but I'LL let
you have the ash cash for Albert Gray.
— What?
— I'll let you fill in the cremation forms.
— 31 quid for ten minutes’ work.
— Can | stop you for just a moment, please?
| wonder if you're familiar with
Amazingoprill,
an ACE—inhibitor we've just brought
onto the market. My company...
Why don't you just get out of my face?
Are we... Are we meant to save lives
or speed their end?
Andrew, it's time you realised
that medical school is over.
Albert Gray received the highest standard
of medical care.
My judgment was to pull the plug
because prolonging a patient's death
isn't the same as prolonging his life.
I've got no patience
with your misplaced concern.
Your job is to make the decisions
that everyone else runs away from
and dumps on you, the doctor.
(Giggling)
Mrs Temple continues to have
abdominal pain, Mr Docherty.
We did an X-ray
but we were wondering if she might have
an inferior mesenteric artery thrombosis.
| think the X—ray's the most marvellous
adjunct to modern medical practice.
When | first started, we had to
draw the curtains round the ward
and put the patient up against a bright light.
(Laughs)
Yes. (Clears throat)
I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr Docherty.
| just removed this fluid
— when | took out Mr Johnson's catheter.
— | say. How odd, Sister.
— I've never seen anything like it.
— How very odd, Sister.
Possibly, we're dealing with
some urinary sepsis.
| think we should send it off
to Microbiology for MC&S.
We need to do an urgent U&Es profile,
blood cultures
and we need to do serial EMUs
for three days.
No need for all those fancy tests.
(Clears throat)
(Belches) Tea, white, one sugar.
We were out of saline when | catheterised
Mr Johnson, so | used tea instead.
Good lad. Thinks on his feet, what?
Onward, Dr Broome, onward.
My stone. Cheers, Doc.
Marvellous. Marvellous.
| thought his kidney stone
was chucked away after the operation.
It was. He was nagging me so much,
| got him a specimen pot,
— put his name on it and found him a stone.
— So whose stone's that?
No one's. That's a piece of gravel | fetched
from the car park in my Lunch hour.
Sorry to trouble you, Andrew.
Mr Gray's relatives are in the office.
— You mean | have to go and...?
— Mm.
Not being funny, Sister,
but I've never really...
Look, it should be the doctor
that talks to them now, shouldn't it?
— Fancy a quick beer before home?
— | don't drink.
(Clears throat)
— Mrs Gray...
— You look tired, Doctor.
— Why don't you have a seat?
— Oh. No.
Please, I'm...
fine, thanks. Er, | wanted to, erm...
As you know, Albert, er,
was...not a well man.
He had mesothelioma secondary.
Well, he had this kind of...Lung cancer
which came on
because he was exposed to asbes...
Well, probably because
he was exposed to asbestos.
We can never know for sure, 100%,
Still, he was...
He wasn't a well man.
Erm, we gave him...injections...
and oxygen, nebulisers and I, er...
We did everything that we could for him.
In the end, er...
there was nothing that we could do.
Erm...
Actually, if there's anything...
you want to ask me...
Well, how is Albert now?
Is he very bad? Is that what you're saying?
No, Mrs Gray...
Albert, erm...has passed away.
Thank you, Doctor.
I'd like to see him.
Soon you'll worry
how little all this affects you,
not how much.