Page 38 of Swiping Right (and other disasters)

“Really?” said Brian.

“Yep. And as you know, I’m no doctor or nurse. I’d never seen anything like it ever before. But the thing that struck me was the attention to detail. Even before the surgeon had walked into the room, all the instruments had been so carefully laid out, one by one. Then they were all checked, one by one. Then the patient was brought in and the surgeon came in and they went through the exact plan of what they were all going to do, step by step. At the end, everyone was asked if they were happy. If anyone at that point had had any concerns, the surgery would have been paused.”

“If anyone knows of any reason why this man and woman should not be joined in matrimony, please speak now?” said Brian, his gentle Brummie accent coming through.

“A bit. But the thing was, once they got started, it was so quick. They had spent so much time preparing, but the actual procedure itself took less than forty-five minutes. It was impressive. At all times, there was an anaesthetist paying attention to the patient’s heart rate and breathing, while everyone else worked like a well-oiled machine to remove the tired old joint and replace it with a new one.”

“I bet that was a bit gory,” said Brian.

“Well, I’m not going to pretend it didn’t have its moments, but I was amazed by how clean and efficient it all was,” said Kiera, opting not to tell Brian how one of the operating theatre staff had shown her the bloodied old joint that had been removed, and how queasy it had made her feel. “Honestly, I couldn’t believe how quickly it was all done, and then the patient was off to recovery.”

“That’s good to know,” said Brian. “But I just wish it wasn’t my Dawn in there.”

“I totally understand,” said Kiera. “But in the next hour you’ll get a call to say she’s safely having a nice cuppa and recovering, and in a few weeks’ time, once she’s recovered, she’ll be walking without all the pain she’s been enduring.”

“Yes,” said Brian, “you’re right. I need to focus on that. Thanks, bab. You’re a gem.”

“You’ve finished that coffee,” said Kiera. “Would you like another? I can pilfer one from the staff kitchen if you don’t tell anyone.”

Once Keira had furnished Brian with an NHS issue mug of instant coffee, she went to her office to find Charlie typing fiercely with a jammy dodger poking out of his mouth. “Good morning, Charlie.” He mumbled a response, before shoving the rest of the biscuit into his mouth.

Once he’d swallowed, he spoke. “Sorry, K. I’ve got this report to complete for Rick. It needs to be done by ten. Biscuits are the only answer.”

“Understood. I have to go to the patient pathway meeting in a minute to talk through the process for letting patients know when they’re going to have a longer wait than they expect. It’s going to be singularly depressing,” said Kiera, sighing.

“I’ll replenish the biscuit supply, in that case,” said Charlie.

At that moment, the lights in the office flickered, then went out. “Did we not pay the lecky bill?” said Charlie, his face visible only in the limited light from the tiny window and the glow of his laptop screen.

Kiera opened the office door and peered into the corridor. She was greeted by the low-level emergency lighting, there in case of fire. “I think it’s worse than that,” she said under her breath. Other office doors started opening, and soon she could hear a rumble of voices and the footsteps of people beginning to move.

“Don’t we have a generator in case there’s a power cut?” asked Charlie, whirling round to face Keira on his chair.

“We do.” As he spoke, the lights flickered back on. Kiera heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Both their mobile phones buzzed, calling them to the hospital trust board room urgently. “This isn’t a good sign.”

They arrived in the board room along with about thirty other staff from departments across the hospital. Rick could be seen at the far end of the room, deep in conversation with the hospital’s operations director, Chloe. She had a serious look on her face that suggested this was more significant than a momentary power loss.

“Ok, everyone,” said Chloe, who had been an army medic twenty years earlier, “we have a situation. The power for this whole part of Birmingham has gone down, and the guys at the National Grid, or whatever we’re supposed to call it these days, are telling us it could be down for some time. There are supposed to be fail-safes in place for this building, but for some reason we don’t yet understand, they haven’t kicked in.”

There was a murmur in the room. A few senior nurses filed into the back, where there was standing room only.

“We have generators, and as you’ll have observed, they have started up. However, they’re not designed to last for more than a short period of time.” More murmurs. “There is no need to panic,” said the woman, picking up on the feeling in the room, “but we need to make some changes immediately.”

Notepads and laptops were opened, and notes started to be taken. “We need to cancel all non-urgent operations, which means anything elective is now cancelled for today, unless they’re already in surgery. We will of course continue to take emergency cases into surgery, but nothing else.” Chloe took a breath, her lanyard rattling with the three biros hooked onto it. “Rick, Charlie, Kiera – I need you to go down to the elective admissions unit now to speak to the patients we’re going to have to send home. They will be upset, and probably angry – with good reason. Your job is to calmly explain what’s going on.”

Kiera and Charlie looked at each other, and then swiftly left the room, Rick following in their wake.

“Ok, guys,” said Rick, “this won’t be easy, but you know what you’re doing. Let’s do our best to make this as pain-free as possible.” Kiera and Charlie grimaced.

They were faced with a full waiting room of patients who hadn’t eaten since midnight, all of them awaiting a procedure they had likely waited months for. Kiera made eye-contact with a member of nursing staff as she entered the room, and he nodded back at her. He knew the score.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m Nick. Chloe said she’d send you guys over to help. This is going to be messy.” He took a deep breath, and then raised his voice to get everyone’s attention and announce what had happened.

Charlie, Kiera and Rick spent the next hour speaking to distraught patients and their families, reassuring them that they would be prioritised for the next slot available, and apologising. Just when things were starting to feel insurmountable, Marjorie appeared in her chef’s whites with a tray of chocolate concrete.

“Luckily I’d put this in before these shenanigans all began,” she said. “I figured these guys needed it today, especially the poor loves who’ve been nil-by-mouth.”

It was a game-changer, raising the mood of the room significantly. “We should put this stuff on prescription,” said Kiera.

---