Cardiac Arrest (1994–1996): Season 1, Episode 4 - You Can't Make an Omelette Without Breaking Legs - full transcript
(Laughter)
(Girl) A family. A nice house.
A good job, | just want to be happy.
Once you've cured your hangover,
Mr Docherty is about to start.
Madam.
We're taking out your gallstone this afternoon.
Mr Docherty, the other lady was for
cholecystectomy. This one has a kidney stone.
Madam, we're taking out your kidney stone
this afternoon.
You, er...
You all saw how | was bowled a googly there.
Fair, fat, female, er...fluid.
And...faeces and er...
Mm-—hm...
Mr Docherty
gets a little confused in the mornings.
Gallstones are classically associated with
patients who are female, fat, fair, fertile and 40.
The causes of abdominal distension
also begin with F.
Fat, fluid, faeces, flatus, foetus,
fibroids and other tumours.
Mr Docherty,
this gentleman isn't one of your patients.
| was aware of that.
| thought he might be of interest
to some of our new medical students.
Which one of you clerked this patient?
You'll have discovered, no doubt,
the abnormality of the pulses in his legs.
Oh. Radiofemoral delay.
| think we should put this young lady
out of her misery.
o — Oh!
ocherty Laughs)
— Where are you running off to, then?
— Nowhere. I'm meeting Andrew for Lunch.
— Oh, aye? How's it going?
— It's not.
It's about as much fun as a smear test.
All work. And church on Sundays.
— Has he tried to, er...you know?
— No.
No? Well, that's not very flattering.
| remember our Roy
couldn't keep his hands off me. Electric.
If there was a power cut,
you'd just plug him into the National Grid
and the lights at Dounreay'd flicker back on.
| was given to understand you were sitting
a Primary Fellowship examination next week.
Monday.
You should be on study leave, my dear.
— | applied for it, but...
— Go on.
Mr Betancourt declined my application because
he wasn't happy to have a locum cover his take.
| suggest
you commence study leave immediately.
If Mr Betancourt is dissatisfied with the locum,
he can swap takes with me.
| don't know how anyone can be expected
to gain postgraduate qualification
in circumstances like these.
— Thank you, Mr Docherty.
— Just one more thing.
When Mr Betancourt turned you down,
why didn't you come to me?
Ah, It's an awful thing I've done, growing old?
Wasn't planned, | can assure you.
| bleeped the locum again. Still no answer.
We're on take, and Monica, the SHO,
is away taking her Primary FRCS.
— And what does "on take" mean?
— It means we have to take even more crap
than the usual vast amount
that we normally have to take.
Hi.
Complete the following saying.
Listen to the patient...
(ALL) Who's telling you the diagnosis.
Raj's law is don't listen to the patient.
They're telling you a load of crap.
Ask Mr Gittens how far he can walk
before his legs hurt.
Mr Gittens, how far can you walk
before your legs start to hurt?
Not far.
— How far roughly is that?
— No further than the bus stop.
— How far is the bus stop?
— Down the road and round the corner.
100 yards? A mile?
Well, I'm funny, me,
because | walk faster than most.
Notwithstanding your amusingly rapid gait,
how far can you walk
before your legs start to hurt?
Er...
Not far. Now, my neighbour...
Thank you, Mr Gittens.
— Andrew, have you still not done those TTOs?
— I'm not exactly on top form today. It's just...
And you know you didn’t fill in any KMRTs
for last month's admissions?
| didn't know | had to. Oh, these’ll take ages.
Sister Alison called in sick for the Late shift.
Claire's reviewed Mr Crowson.
The central line can come out.
— Well, Andrew will have to do it.
— | wouldn't know where to begin.
| did it loads when | worked in ITU.
That was a different health authority.
You wouldn't be covered here.
Clearly, the laws of nature alter
from one health authority to the next.
IF you've done it before,
maybe you could show me what to do.
It'll be my responsibility.
Dr Rajah, this is Dr Patel, our new locum.
— | am having trouble with my bleep.
— Sure. There's a few things on the ward round.
First, | must have the keys of my room.
— Porter's lodge.
— I'll show you where it is. Come this way.
No way am | gonna end up like that.
— (Pager bleeping)
— (Woman's voice on pager)
— Hello, Dr Rajah.
— Raj...
— Oh, Mum.
— / want to speak to you.
Not now, Mum. Yes, | know
it's thanks to you that | became a doctor.
Not a day goes by that | don't want to thank
you for talking me out of being an accountant.
— Have you seen a picture of Mila?
— No, I've not seen a picture.
— She's very pretty, you know.
— Yes, I'm sure she is.
— What about marriage?
— | don't want to marry her.
Mum, let me summarise.
Doctor, yes. Arranged marriage, no.
What a jerk.
Once the stitches are out...
Tug the line.
Then you apply pressure.
That's it.
Right. Just pass some tape. Ta.
It's all right for me.
Erm...I've taken
Mr Crowson's central line out, Claire.
No great shakes as long as you lie them flat
to reduce the risk of air embolism.
Actually, Claire, I'm feeling a bit rough today.
What's that word there, front of your name?
— Doctor.
— Right.
Doctors don't take sick leave.
You'll be dead on your feet but you still come in
or you'll be dumping on your colleagues.
Just cos you're going out with a nurse
doesn't mean you have to turn into one.
When you take out a central line,
you lie the patient flat
to avoid killing them with an air embolism.
(Tuts) Oh, Caroline...
— Raj?
— (Phone rings)
| thought you might want to take a look
at this drug chart Dr Patel's written up.
I've tried bleeping him three times already.
Leave this with me.
Do you know, that Dr Patel hasn't done
a stroke of work since he got here.
— Hmph.
— (Phone)
(TV) Western Australia is quite right
(Applause)
Dr Patel, we've been trying to bleep you.
I'm sorry. My bleep is er...
It'd help if you had it switched on.
| can't quite make out the drug
at the top of the page.
It is a diuretic.
— Which one?
— There are very many, as you know.
— Frusemide?
— Frusemide. That is correct.
You've written the intravenous dose as
one tablet. Tablets aren't given IV, Dr Patel.
— That is a silly mistake on my part.
— What dose do you want the patient to have?
You are coming in here
not showing me any respect.
| am the SHO, you are junior bloody houseman.
I'm going till you can give me some respect.
(# Man singing Home On The Range)
(Coughs) Hi.
— Hi. Cubicle two.
— Two.
You fell and immediately
felt something go in your back.
Now your legs are completely dead.
# And the skies are not cloudy all day... #
Do you feel this?
They're dead, man!
— # Oh, give me a home... #
— Back in a few minutes.
# Where the buffalo roam... #
— Do you think he's faking?
— Is the Pope Catholic?
You'll still need the RSO to see him
if we're gonna chuck him out.
He was absolute crap with that abdo pain earlier.
Maybe it's only to be expected,
What? Of a Paki, you mean?
| didn't...
(Man continues singing)
Um... The amount of paracetamol you've taken
requires treatment.
So we're gonna admit you to the ward, OK?
(Machine whistling)
Your legs, you've uncrossed ‘em.
I've got you bang to rights, sunshine.
Actually, it was me who uncrossed his legs.
| sort of felt sorry for him.
# Oh Shenandoah #
— # | love your daughter... #
— (Phone)
Yes?
Dr Patel, it's Raj. The houseman.
I've a patient in casualty who claims to have
complete motor and sensory loss
below the waist following a fall.
| wondered if you'd mind seeing him, please.
House officers aren't allowed
to discharge patients from casualty.
He needs to be seen by you
even if he is a malingerer.
Why, thank you.
Do you actually like this job?
Being a doctor
is the most miserable job on this earth.
But you must have wanted
to be a doctor once, surely.
People keep pushing you.
Pushing, pushing, pushing!
SOIry.
Once | might have been able
to stand for something.
Now | can only take pride
in not falling for anything.
| don't know what it means
but it sounds good.
This is a case of rheumatic fever.
He's a medical patient, not surgical.
Isn't rheumatic fever
something to do with the heart?
| am bloody in charge! You do as | say!
That's it. I'm calling Mr Docherty.
Let's see if we can get the hospital manager
to check Patel's registration.
Alex Legg, hospital manager.
I've checked with Dr Patel's locum agency
and re-examined their own photocopies.
| can assure you her documents are authentic.
— Good.
— Her documents? Patel's a bloke.
Then | suggest
the police be informed this instant.
— Well, this is all very embarrassing.
— If you aren't willing to call the police,
then | certainly am.
Rest assured I'LL call them at once.
Good afternoon, Mr Docherty.
Last year, he was working the till
in the canteen.
Now they've put him in charge of the hospital.
I'm pleased Dr Patel has finally got his collar
felt but we're now shy an RSO, Mr Docherty.
What happened to that layabout Slocombe?
Dr Slocombe isn't a locum.
His name just gets misprinted on the rota.
Then | shall be RSO.
(Bloodcurdling scream)
I'm really sorry to trouble you, sir.
The patient is a 83-year-old man
with a past history of multi—infarct dementia.
— Sounds medical to me. Refer to the RMO.
— Yes, Mr Docherty. Thank you.
Anything else for me, Sister, while I'm here?
I've a feeling there'll be very little today,
Mr Docherty.
Right. Just one thing.
As | swapped takes with Mr Betancourt,
all surgical patients
have to be admitted under me.
I'll make sure front desk know.
First—rate, Bye!
Bye-bye.
That man's a supernova
where a candle would do.
(Snores)
I've never understood why it's the snorer
who always gets off to sleep first.
I'm Dr Maitland.
| just wanted to know
what the drip was for, please?
The poisonous by-products of paracetamol
are now accumulating in your system,
damaging your liver and possibly your kidneys.
The drip provides extra fuel for the liver to help
it break down the paracetamol more safely.
What will happen if the treatment doesn't work?
You'll go into liver failure and die of it.
| wonder if you'd mind
taking out the drip, please?
I'm obliged to treat you.
Do you really care whether | live or die?
— Yes, of course | do.
— Really?
No. Course | don't.
So would you mind
taking out the drip, please?
Look. Face the fact
that you might be making a mistake.
And if your life
really does mean so little to you,
it's not very fair of you to ask me
to jeopardise my career for you now, is it?
Anyway, if it doesn't work, you'll die.
If it does, you can always top yourself again.
(Claire) Mm?
OK.
Parvolex infusion to be continued,
as on the chart.
Yeah, that sounded like a tricky one,
Only if you let ethics
get in the way of doing what's right.
— Thanks.
— Oh, yeah. Andrew's not feeling well.
If there are any problems in the night,
bleep me instead of him.
OK.
Sarah, if you're not doing anything
tomorrow night, | was just wondering...
No, Raj.
— (Bleeping)
— (Distorted voice over pager)
RSO speaking.
've got a 49-year-old woman. She speaks
no English but clinically requires admission.
— May | have her name, please?
— That's not Ernest Docherty, is it?
It is. My senior officer's off today.
All hands on deck, so to speak.
Oh, Ernest, it’s Gerald, Look, old man, I’ve got
a rush on this heart patient, an old dear.
Oh, we must have a round some week, then.
— Yes,
— Goodbye.
Mr Docherty, I'm afraid no one seems to have
gone round the wards to identify empty beds.
— And whose responsibility is that?
— Well, yours. The RSO's.
It is my job,
whilst dealing with acutely ill patients,
to trudge round this hospital
in performance of some chore
which could easily be accomplished
by the electric telephone?
If you will kindly organise the nurses
in the surgical unit,
I'm sure we can have this sorted out in a jiffy.
(Whispering) That's his job!
Raj, there's no one trained on
and there's a couple of IVs to do.
Have you been trained in the administration
of intravenous drugs, Dr Rajah?
No, Mr Docherty.
It appears my house officer isn’t qualified
to give IV drugs either, Sister.
| suggest you enlist help elsewhere.
Jolly curious about that locum today, wasn't it?
The thing that bugs me Is that everyone
assumed the reason he was incompetent
was not because he was unqualified
but that he was an Asian.
The lesson is,
in our profession there is no room for racism.
| know. It's chock-full already.
What was | doing
getting off with Nurse White Coat?
More blokes have landed in her bed
than hit the Normandy beaches on D-Day.
Birds like that
are for blokes who are too lazy to wank.
| feel like Mr Spock in that Star Trek episode.
"It is the Pon Farr, the time of mating.”
If | don't get laid, I'l die of it.
What doesn't help is having a medical student
who's a wet dream come true.
Bagsy first to lick the seat.
(Laughter and applause on TV)
It's not normally this quiet on take, is it?
It'd be a catastrophe if it was busy.
| need someone who'll muck in,
not used leeches the last time he took blood.
Seminal wedge pressure is out of control, Jim.
— Sorry?
— Nothing.
(Sniffs)
— Poor Mrs Terry. She only came in today.
— Mm.
Didn't they say on report
to call Claire because Andrew was ill?
You don't expect me to bleep her just for this,
do you?
Och, Andrew needs some cheering up.
— (Bleeping)
— Oh, Je...!
— Could you run that up to ITU, please?
— They don't like us using their machine.
OK. I'll go. Could you start his oxygen?
24 per cent.
And 100mg of frusemide, please.
Hey, Walter. I'm just going to take
a little bit more blood, OK?
Could you have these bloods sent off for me,
please?
(Sniffs)
No. And next time, don't bring your blood
to ITU. Take it to biochemistry.
And when you come in here,
take that white coat off.
(Women chattering)
— ..Tina Turner.
— Well, exactly...
Hi, this is Dr Collin. Could | have an urgent
full blood count for Walter Cutler, please?
— Is the medical patient ready to go yet?
— No, I'm afraid not.
Could | have a nebuliser?
5mg of salbutamol, please.
Oh, and a peak flow first.
(Hissing)
What was his peak flow?
| didn't know you wanted it doing.
Walter, I'm just gonna ask you to blow
into this tube, all right? Best you can.
Thank you.
Walter Cutler, patient for X-ray.
Cubicle four, and I've got
these bloods to go, please.
Well, I'd like to, Doc,
but I've got this one then one for theatre.
These doctors are all the same. Can't be
bothered to spend a minute talking to you.
— Have you got anything for me?
— Here we are.
— Thank you.
— Ta-ra.
Bye, pet.
| have a patient requiring a bed, Sister.
Please make arrangements immediately.
(Woman talking)
Perhaps you would like the medical staff
to launder dirty linen as well.
See? This is what happens when someone tries
to apply a sense of reason to hospital protocol.
You couldn't have a word
with the old boy, could you?
| couldn't. Poor Uncle Ernest.
It would break his heart.
Leave the doxapram as it is.
| hope he wasn't planning
to listen to any long—playing records.
We've already lost Mrs Terry tonight.
She wasn't that old.
She's dead. Can't get much older than that.
(Knock on door)
Ah. Excuse me.
| must have got the wrong room.
Mr Betancourt and | have swapped takes.
| regret that’s all we've agreed to swap.
Oh...
— Caroline.
— Hi.
Are you OK?
No.
(Bleeping)
(Bleeping)
(Woman)
Cardiac arrest, ward B, Cardiac arrest, ward B.
(Rattling)
The patient's wife was most distressed
by the level of care before he died.
I'LL be speaking to the nurse in question,
and I'LL personally write a letter of apology
to the widow.
— I'm so sorry.
— | know you are, Sister.
Bye—bye and thank you.
We're docking £20 from your salary as a fine
for calling a porter to unlock your room.
Please look after your keys in future.
Andrew, Mrs Terry's family are in the office.
Well, unfortunately,
because everything happened so quickly,
we're at a loss
to fully explain why your mother passed away.
For that reason, we're asking permission
to perform a post mortem.
We were told she only had
a bad chest infection.
One of the reasons
we'd like to do a post mortem
is because we think
it was more than just a chest infection.
You've really messed this one up,
haven't you, son?
— Just how long have you been a doctor?
— Two months.
And you expect me to believe a word you're
saying? | mean, just look at the state of you.
| bet you've slept in those clothes, haven't you?
You couldn't even be bothered to shave before
you came to work this morning, could you?
Come on. We're off.
SOIry.
| tell relatives the patient
may have died of something hereditary.
They can't wait for a post mortem.
Just what is the point?
— Hi.
— Hi.
Can you, erm, come and see Mr Cutler?
Yeah.
He wants to know when he can go home.
We didn't have to come out if you're still tired.
— No, I'm fine. Honest.
— So what shift did you work yesterday?
| don't work shifts.
| work Monday to Friday, nine to five.
Round the clock every fourth day.
— Do you get paid even when you're asleep?
— | get paid half a basic rate on call.
£3 an hour.
Still, if you're getting paid for it,
you should be working, not sleeping.
(Bleeping)
— No. No.
— What's wrong?
It's all right. It's OK.
There's someone else, isn't there?
No, no. It's... WellL..
Yeah. See, I'm a Christian.
And...| like you, Caroline. | really do like you.
It's just...
| just don't believe in going any further.
You don't mind, do you?
(Sighs)
No.
| don't mind.
Thanks.
Thank you.
(Girl) A family. A nice house.
A good job, | just want to be happy.
Once you've cured your hangover,
Mr Docherty is about to start.
Madam.
We're taking out your gallstone this afternoon.
Mr Docherty, the other lady was for
cholecystectomy. This one has a kidney stone.
Madam, we're taking out your kidney stone
this afternoon.
You, er...
You all saw how | was bowled a googly there.
Fair, fat, female, er...fluid.
And...faeces and er...
Mm-—hm...
Mr Docherty
gets a little confused in the mornings.
Gallstones are classically associated with
patients who are female, fat, fair, fertile and 40.
The causes of abdominal distension
also begin with F.
Fat, fluid, faeces, flatus, foetus,
fibroids and other tumours.
Mr Docherty,
this gentleman isn't one of your patients.
| was aware of that.
| thought he might be of interest
to some of our new medical students.
Which one of you clerked this patient?
You'll have discovered, no doubt,
the abnormality of the pulses in his legs.
Oh. Radiofemoral delay.
| think we should put this young lady
out of her misery.
o — Oh!
ocherty Laughs)
— Where are you running off to, then?
— Nowhere. I'm meeting Andrew for Lunch.
— Oh, aye? How's it going?
— It's not.
It's about as much fun as a smear test.
All work. And church on Sundays.
— Has he tried to, er...you know?
— No.
No? Well, that's not very flattering.
| remember our Roy
couldn't keep his hands off me. Electric.
If there was a power cut,
you'd just plug him into the National Grid
and the lights at Dounreay'd flicker back on.
| was given to understand you were sitting
a Primary Fellowship examination next week.
Monday.
You should be on study leave, my dear.
— | applied for it, but...
— Go on.
Mr Betancourt declined my application because
he wasn't happy to have a locum cover his take.
| suggest
you commence study leave immediately.
If Mr Betancourt is dissatisfied with the locum,
he can swap takes with me.
| don't know how anyone can be expected
to gain postgraduate qualification
in circumstances like these.
— Thank you, Mr Docherty.
— Just one more thing.
When Mr Betancourt turned you down,
why didn't you come to me?
Ah, It's an awful thing I've done, growing old?
Wasn't planned, | can assure you.
| bleeped the locum again. Still no answer.
We're on take, and Monica, the SHO,
is away taking her Primary FRCS.
— And what does "on take" mean?
— It means we have to take even more crap
than the usual vast amount
that we normally have to take.
Hi.
Complete the following saying.
Listen to the patient...
(ALL) Who's telling you the diagnosis.
Raj's law is don't listen to the patient.
They're telling you a load of crap.
Ask Mr Gittens how far he can walk
before his legs hurt.
Mr Gittens, how far can you walk
before your legs start to hurt?
Not far.
— How far roughly is that?
— No further than the bus stop.
— How far is the bus stop?
— Down the road and round the corner.
100 yards? A mile?
Well, I'm funny, me,
because | walk faster than most.
Notwithstanding your amusingly rapid gait,
how far can you walk
before your legs start to hurt?
Er...
Not far. Now, my neighbour...
Thank you, Mr Gittens.
— Andrew, have you still not done those TTOs?
— I'm not exactly on top form today. It's just...
And you know you didn’t fill in any KMRTs
for last month's admissions?
| didn't know | had to. Oh, these’ll take ages.
Sister Alison called in sick for the Late shift.
Claire's reviewed Mr Crowson.
The central line can come out.
— Well, Andrew will have to do it.
— | wouldn't know where to begin.
| did it loads when | worked in ITU.
That was a different health authority.
You wouldn't be covered here.
Clearly, the laws of nature alter
from one health authority to the next.
IF you've done it before,
maybe you could show me what to do.
It'll be my responsibility.
Dr Rajah, this is Dr Patel, our new locum.
— | am having trouble with my bleep.
— Sure. There's a few things on the ward round.
First, | must have the keys of my room.
— Porter's lodge.
— I'll show you where it is. Come this way.
No way am | gonna end up like that.
— (Pager bleeping)
— (Woman's voice on pager)
— Hello, Dr Rajah.
— Raj...
— Oh, Mum.
— / want to speak to you.
Not now, Mum. Yes, | know
it's thanks to you that | became a doctor.
Not a day goes by that | don't want to thank
you for talking me out of being an accountant.
— Have you seen a picture of Mila?
— No, I've not seen a picture.
— She's very pretty, you know.
— Yes, I'm sure she is.
— What about marriage?
— | don't want to marry her.
Mum, let me summarise.
Doctor, yes. Arranged marriage, no.
What a jerk.
Once the stitches are out...
Tug the line.
Then you apply pressure.
That's it.
Right. Just pass some tape. Ta.
It's all right for me.
Erm...I've taken
Mr Crowson's central line out, Claire.
No great shakes as long as you lie them flat
to reduce the risk of air embolism.
Actually, Claire, I'm feeling a bit rough today.
What's that word there, front of your name?
— Doctor.
— Right.
Doctors don't take sick leave.
You'll be dead on your feet but you still come in
or you'll be dumping on your colleagues.
Just cos you're going out with a nurse
doesn't mean you have to turn into one.
When you take out a central line,
you lie the patient flat
to avoid killing them with an air embolism.
(Tuts) Oh, Caroline...
— Raj?
— (Phone rings)
| thought you might want to take a look
at this drug chart Dr Patel's written up.
I've tried bleeping him three times already.
Leave this with me.
Do you know, that Dr Patel hasn't done
a stroke of work since he got here.
— Hmph.
— (Phone)
(TV) Western Australia is quite right
(Applause)
Dr Patel, we've been trying to bleep you.
I'm sorry. My bleep is er...
It'd help if you had it switched on.
| can't quite make out the drug
at the top of the page.
It is a diuretic.
— Which one?
— There are very many, as you know.
— Frusemide?
— Frusemide. That is correct.
You've written the intravenous dose as
one tablet. Tablets aren't given IV, Dr Patel.
— That is a silly mistake on my part.
— What dose do you want the patient to have?
You are coming in here
not showing me any respect.
| am the SHO, you are junior bloody houseman.
I'm going till you can give me some respect.
(# Man singing Home On The Range)
(Coughs) Hi.
— Hi. Cubicle two.
— Two.
You fell and immediately
felt something go in your back.
Now your legs are completely dead.
# And the skies are not cloudy all day... #
Do you feel this?
They're dead, man!
— # Oh, give me a home... #
— Back in a few minutes.
# Where the buffalo roam... #
— Do you think he's faking?
— Is the Pope Catholic?
You'll still need the RSO to see him
if we're gonna chuck him out.
He was absolute crap with that abdo pain earlier.
Maybe it's only to be expected,
What? Of a Paki, you mean?
| didn't...
(Man continues singing)
Um... The amount of paracetamol you've taken
requires treatment.
So we're gonna admit you to the ward, OK?
(Machine whistling)
Your legs, you've uncrossed ‘em.
I've got you bang to rights, sunshine.
Actually, it was me who uncrossed his legs.
| sort of felt sorry for him.
# Oh Shenandoah #
— # | love your daughter... #
— (Phone)
Yes?
Dr Patel, it's Raj. The houseman.
I've a patient in casualty who claims to have
complete motor and sensory loss
below the waist following a fall.
| wondered if you'd mind seeing him, please.
House officers aren't allowed
to discharge patients from casualty.
He needs to be seen by you
even if he is a malingerer.
Why, thank you.
Do you actually like this job?
Being a doctor
is the most miserable job on this earth.
But you must have wanted
to be a doctor once, surely.
People keep pushing you.
Pushing, pushing, pushing!
SOIry.
Once | might have been able
to stand for something.
Now | can only take pride
in not falling for anything.
| don't know what it means
but it sounds good.
This is a case of rheumatic fever.
He's a medical patient, not surgical.
Isn't rheumatic fever
something to do with the heart?
| am bloody in charge! You do as | say!
That's it. I'm calling Mr Docherty.
Let's see if we can get the hospital manager
to check Patel's registration.
Alex Legg, hospital manager.
I've checked with Dr Patel's locum agency
and re-examined their own photocopies.
| can assure you her documents are authentic.
— Good.
— Her documents? Patel's a bloke.
Then | suggest
the police be informed this instant.
— Well, this is all very embarrassing.
— If you aren't willing to call the police,
then | certainly am.
Rest assured I'LL call them at once.
Good afternoon, Mr Docherty.
Last year, he was working the till
in the canteen.
Now they've put him in charge of the hospital.
I'm pleased Dr Patel has finally got his collar
felt but we're now shy an RSO, Mr Docherty.
What happened to that layabout Slocombe?
Dr Slocombe isn't a locum.
His name just gets misprinted on the rota.
Then | shall be RSO.
(Bloodcurdling scream)
I'm really sorry to trouble you, sir.
The patient is a 83-year-old man
with a past history of multi—infarct dementia.
— Sounds medical to me. Refer to the RMO.
— Yes, Mr Docherty. Thank you.
Anything else for me, Sister, while I'm here?
I've a feeling there'll be very little today,
Mr Docherty.
Right. Just one thing.
As | swapped takes with Mr Betancourt,
all surgical patients
have to be admitted under me.
I'll make sure front desk know.
First—rate, Bye!
Bye-bye.
That man's a supernova
where a candle would do.
(Snores)
I've never understood why it's the snorer
who always gets off to sleep first.
I'm Dr Maitland.
| just wanted to know
what the drip was for, please?
The poisonous by-products of paracetamol
are now accumulating in your system,
damaging your liver and possibly your kidneys.
The drip provides extra fuel for the liver to help
it break down the paracetamol more safely.
What will happen if the treatment doesn't work?
You'll go into liver failure and die of it.
| wonder if you'd mind
taking out the drip, please?
I'm obliged to treat you.
Do you really care whether | live or die?
— Yes, of course | do.
— Really?
No. Course | don't.
So would you mind
taking out the drip, please?
Look. Face the fact
that you might be making a mistake.
And if your life
really does mean so little to you,
it's not very fair of you to ask me
to jeopardise my career for you now, is it?
Anyway, if it doesn't work, you'll die.
If it does, you can always top yourself again.
(Claire) Mm?
OK.
Parvolex infusion to be continued,
as on the chart.
Yeah, that sounded like a tricky one,
Only if you let ethics
get in the way of doing what's right.
— Thanks.
— Oh, yeah. Andrew's not feeling well.
If there are any problems in the night,
bleep me instead of him.
OK.
Sarah, if you're not doing anything
tomorrow night, | was just wondering...
No, Raj.
— (Bleeping)
— (Distorted voice over pager)
RSO speaking.
've got a 49-year-old woman. She speaks
no English but clinically requires admission.
— May | have her name, please?
— That's not Ernest Docherty, is it?
It is. My senior officer's off today.
All hands on deck, so to speak.
Oh, Ernest, it’s Gerald, Look, old man, I’ve got
a rush on this heart patient, an old dear.
Oh, we must have a round some week, then.
— Yes,
— Goodbye.
Mr Docherty, I'm afraid no one seems to have
gone round the wards to identify empty beds.
— And whose responsibility is that?
— Well, yours. The RSO's.
It is my job,
whilst dealing with acutely ill patients,
to trudge round this hospital
in performance of some chore
which could easily be accomplished
by the electric telephone?
If you will kindly organise the nurses
in the surgical unit,
I'm sure we can have this sorted out in a jiffy.
(Whispering) That's his job!
Raj, there's no one trained on
and there's a couple of IVs to do.
Have you been trained in the administration
of intravenous drugs, Dr Rajah?
No, Mr Docherty.
It appears my house officer isn’t qualified
to give IV drugs either, Sister.
| suggest you enlist help elsewhere.
Jolly curious about that locum today, wasn't it?
The thing that bugs me Is that everyone
assumed the reason he was incompetent
was not because he was unqualified
but that he was an Asian.
The lesson is,
in our profession there is no room for racism.
| know. It's chock-full already.
What was | doing
getting off with Nurse White Coat?
More blokes have landed in her bed
than hit the Normandy beaches on D-Day.
Birds like that
are for blokes who are too lazy to wank.
| feel like Mr Spock in that Star Trek episode.
"It is the Pon Farr, the time of mating.”
If | don't get laid, I'l die of it.
What doesn't help is having a medical student
who's a wet dream come true.
Bagsy first to lick the seat.
(Laughter and applause on TV)
It's not normally this quiet on take, is it?
It'd be a catastrophe if it was busy.
| need someone who'll muck in,
not used leeches the last time he took blood.
Seminal wedge pressure is out of control, Jim.
— Sorry?
— Nothing.
(Sniffs)
— Poor Mrs Terry. She only came in today.
— Mm.
Didn't they say on report
to call Claire because Andrew was ill?
You don't expect me to bleep her just for this,
do you?
Och, Andrew needs some cheering up.
— (Bleeping)
— Oh, Je...!
— Could you run that up to ITU, please?
— They don't like us using their machine.
OK. I'll go. Could you start his oxygen?
24 per cent.
And 100mg of frusemide, please.
Hey, Walter. I'm just going to take
a little bit more blood, OK?
Could you have these bloods sent off for me,
please?
(Sniffs)
No. And next time, don't bring your blood
to ITU. Take it to biochemistry.
And when you come in here,
take that white coat off.
(Women chattering)
— ..Tina Turner.
— Well, exactly...
Hi, this is Dr Collin. Could | have an urgent
full blood count for Walter Cutler, please?
— Is the medical patient ready to go yet?
— No, I'm afraid not.
Could | have a nebuliser?
5mg of salbutamol, please.
Oh, and a peak flow first.
(Hissing)
What was his peak flow?
| didn't know you wanted it doing.
Walter, I'm just gonna ask you to blow
into this tube, all right? Best you can.
Thank you.
Walter Cutler, patient for X-ray.
Cubicle four, and I've got
these bloods to go, please.
Well, I'd like to, Doc,
but I've got this one then one for theatre.
These doctors are all the same. Can't be
bothered to spend a minute talking to you.
— Have you got anything for me?
— Here we are.
— Thank you.
— Ta-ra.
Bye, pet.
| have a patient requiring a bed, Sister.
Please make arrangements immediately.
(Woman talking)
Perhaps you would like the medical staff
to launder dirty linen as well.
See? This is what happens when someone tries
to apply a sense of reason to hospital protocol.
You couldn't have a word
with the old boy, could you?
| couldn't. Poor Uncle Ernest.
It would break his heart.
Leave the doxapram as it is.
| hope he wasn't planning
to listen to any long—playing records.
We've already lost Mrs Terry tonight.
She wasn't that old.
She's dead. Can't get much older than that.
(Knock on door)
Ah. Excuse me.
| must have got the wrong room.
Mr Betancourt and | have swapped takes.
| regret that’s all we've agreed to swap.
Oh...
— Caroline.
— Hi.
Are you OK?
No.
(Bleeping)
(Bleeping)
(Woman)
Cardiac arrest, ward B, Cardiac arrest, ward B.
(Rattling)
The patient's wife was most distressed
by the level of care before he died.
I'LL be speaking to the nurse in question,
and I'LL personally write a letter of apology
to the widow.
— I'm so sorry.
— | know you are, Sister.
Bye—bye and thank you.
We're docking £20 from your salary as a fine
for calling a porter to unlock your room.
Please look after your keys in future.
Andrew, Mrs Terry's family are in the office.
Well, unfortunately,
because everything happened so quickly,
we're at a loss
to fully explain why your mother passed away.
For that reason, we're asking permission
to perform a post mortem.
We were told she only had
a bad chest infection.
One of the reasons
we'd like to do a post mortem
is because we think
it was more than just a chest infection.
You've really messed this one up,
haven't you, son?
— Just how long have you been a doctor?
— Two months.
And you expect me to believe a word you're
saying? | mean, just look at the state of you.
| bet you've slept in those clothes, haven't you?
You couldn't even be bothered to shave before
you came to work this morning, could you?
Come on. We're off.
SOIry.
| tell relatives the patient
may have died of something hereditary.
They can't wait for a post mortem.
Just what is the point?
— Hi.
— Hi.
Can you, erm, come and see Mr Cutler?
Yeah.
He wants to know when he can go home.
We didn't have to come out if you're still tired.
— No, I'm fine. Honest.
— So what shift did you work yesterday?
| don't work shifts.
| work Monday to Friday, nine to five.
Round the clock every fourth day.
— Do you get paid even when you're asleep?
— | get paid half a basic rate on call.
£3 an hour.
Still, if you're getting paid for it,
you should be working, not sleeping.
(Bleeping)
— No. No.
— What's wrong?
It's all right. It's OK.
There's someone else, isn't there?
No, no. It's... WellL..
Yeah. See, I'm a Christian.
And...| like you, Caroline. | really do like you.
It's just...
| just don't believe in going any further.
You don't mind, do you?
(Sighs)
No.
| don't mind.
Thanks.
Thank you.