Page 4 of The Night Shift
‘But’—a furrow had appeared at the top of Violet’s nose as her brows knit together—'I don’t want to do something wrong. And I don’t want to lie and pretend that I’m going to prescribe something I’m not. I’m sorry if I was rude.’ She sighed. ‘It’s not because she’s a nurse. It’s just that what she was suggesting was medically incorrect and possibly dangerous, so you know, I had to tell her…’
‘I know. As I’ve said, my comment wasn’t really about the clinical decision itself. And I know it’s not about her being a nurse. I’ve seen you be just as blunt with visiting professors.’
‘Exactly.’ Violet felt relieved. At least Anjali knew she didn’t have a superiority complex.
‘But that’s not necessarily a good thing either.’ Anjali’s eyes scrunched up at the corners. ‘Look– I didn’t want to have to tell you this over Christmas,’ she said, taking another deep breath before she continued. ‘But you need to know, and it might as well be now– two members of staff have put in a complaint about you.’
‘About me?!’ Violet was horrified. ‘Why? I– I’ve not made any mistakes. Have I– is it a prescribing error or a misdiagnosis or…?’
‘It’s nothing to do with your clinical skills, Violet.’ Anjali’s voice was gentle now. ‘Nobody has any concerns about you medically. It’s just what we’ve been talking about.’
‘The nurse on ward twelve has complained? Already?’
‘No, Violet. It’s not her. At least, I don’t think it is.’
‘Well, who is it then? Am I going to get struck off?’ Violet suddenly felt sick. It wasn’t even one in the morning and this was already turning into an extraordinarily bad Christmas Day.
‘I’m not exactly sure who it is,’ said Anjali. ‘Just two clinical members of staff, could be nurses, physios, other doctors, I don’t know. But you’re not going to get struck off. They’re notmedical complaints– everyone knows you’re a competent doctor, more than competent, you’re hard-working andsoknowledgeable. I’ve seen you interpret lab results and reel off differential diagnoses with your eyes closed. Really, please don’t worry about your clinical skills. As far as I know, their concern is regarding– how to put this– the problem is more about yourattitude.’
Violet could feel tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She dropped her gaze to the floor and gulped hard. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard this. Memories of medical school came flooding back.
Anjali reached out and touched her hand. ‘I think Dr Corbishley is planning on having a word with you when he gets back from his skiing trip. There’s nothing to worry about– but it seemed fairer to put you in the picture now. Particularly while there’s still something you can do about it.’
‘What can I do though?’ Violet lifted her gaze and looked Anjali directly in the eye. ‘What can I do about myproblematicattitude? It’s just me. My personality. It’s who I am.’ She shrugged Anjali’s hand away sadly. ‘What am I supposed to do about that?’
Gus
Gus meanwhile had accompanied the resuscitated patient up to the HDU and was talking to Barbara, one of the senior staff nurses on the main desk as he wrote up his notes.
‘You missed Christmas Eve with the fiancée then, love?’ she asked, handing him a continuation sheet with the patient’s neatly printed name label fixed to the top corner.
‘Yeah. Shame. Still, I’m sure she’ll have had a perfectly enjoyable evening without me.’ This was almost certainly true.
‘Same in our house,’ said Barbara. ‘Clive will have had a quiet Baileys in front of the fire and be glad of the peace. I just hope he didn’t have any carol singers get him out of the bath like last year… Stood on the doorstep listening politely to “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” with only a flannel and some lily-of-the-valley scented bubbles to protect his modesty.’ She snorted fondly before turning her attention back to the issue of Gus’s girlfriend. ‘Still, you’ll see her later today? Got her anything nice?’
‘Damn, I forgot to look up Mr Jenkins’s liver function test results.’ Gus turned to the screen in front of him and keyed in the patient’s number. Again, this was half true. Hehadforgotten to look up the blood results but equally he wanted to shut this conversation down without being rude. As far as everyone at work was concerned, his domestic arrangements were ticking along quite nicely. The idea that Amelia, his devoted wife-to-be, was sat at home pining for her sweetheart to return from his night shift was laughable, but if that was what everyone else thought then who was he to disabuse them of the notion? In fact, the longer they believed it, the more he could convince himself that perhaps it was true. Maybe he would go home today, and there she’d be, cheeks aglow, pulling a turkey out of the oven while the fire crackled merrily in the grate and the Christmas lights twinkled on the tree. No matter that their flat had no fireplace, or that he hadn’t got round to buying a tree, or that Amelia had never cooked as much as a toasted sandwich. No matter that the most obvious flaw in this festive scene was the fact that his fiancée had actually walked out on him months earlier and was likely never coming back. If he stuck to his story of self-delusion and concentrated hard enough, he could almost picture it. Maybe, just maybe, she’d be there– the emptiness would fill and his life would be back on track. ItwasChristmas, after all.
The diversionary tactic was successful. Barbara patted his shoulder and slid an open tin of Quality Streets across the desk towards him. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she said kindly. ‘Cuppa?’
He shook his head and gave her one of his best beaming smiles as he unwrapped a strawberry cream. ‘You’re a star, Barb, but no, thanks. I’ll head off to the mess once I’ve finished updating this. Bleep me when his family turn up though? I’ll come and talk to them as soon as they get here, even if my shift’s finished.’
She looked at him fondly. ‘I know you will, love. You always come when we need you. And you don’t make a big song and dance about it. Not like some of the other doctors I could mention.’ She pursed her lips.
‘I think everyone’s just busy, Barb,’ said Gus easily. ‘And the shift pattern, it’s a bit odd over Christmas. It makes a people a bit short-tempered.’
‘No excuse for being rude though, is there? No need for it neither.’ She folded her arms across her ample bosom.
‘You talking about Karen?’ Gus stifled a yawn; he knew when he was being led into a gossipy whinge. The HDU nurses were not enormous fans of his senior colleague Dr Karen Stringer. Mainly because she had no qualms about refusing tasks that she thought were beneath her.
‘I couldn’t possibly say.’ Barbara’s expression was arch. ‘But if certain people think they can swan around barking orders at us and questioning our decisions every moment… If certain people, who shall remain nameless, think they’re too big and important to attend to patients…’
Gus wanted to point out that despite Karen’s aggressive demeanour she never let patient care suffer. She may have been bossy and domineering but she was an excellent doctor. However, he knew that if he said this to Barbara she might see him as siding with the medical establishment– pulling rank. And he wanted to stay on the right side of all the HDU nurses, just like he wanted to stay on the right side of everyone. He kept quiet and let her finish her rant.
‘Anyway, we know that if we want a job doing, we won’t be bleeping her in a hurry,’ Barbara said once she’d enumerated all of Karen’s shortcomings. ‘We always call you instead.’ Her expression softened. ‘And you’ll be here with a smile on your face, whatever the hour.’
Gus briefly wondered how many tasks Karen had managed to avoid simply by cultivating the reputation of being a bitch. It was all well and good him being the default nice chap who nobody was scared of, but it probably meant he ended up dealing with more trivial stuff than perhaps he should, just to keep people happy.
His expression must have given away something of his reservations because Barbara looked at him closely. ‘You’re tired,’ she said. ‘Get yourself off to the mess as soon as you’re done with those notes, okay?’ She made to head for the staff kitchen and then stopped. ‘Although,’ she said, ‘I know it’s cheeky, but would you mind just taking a look at bed five’s cannula before you head off? And if you could pop your head around the curtain of bed nine, have a word with his wife about the tracheostomy? She’d really appreciate it.’ She took another step. ‘Oh, and there’s a bit of tinsel… I know it’s daft, but none of the girls can reach it. It’s come unstuck above the door to the toilets and it’s just dangling there like a festive snake. I don’t suppose you could…’
