And Death Followed After

More evidence, if any such was required, that I attract trouble, that I am a 'Black Smoke' Registrar.

'Twas darkest night, tho the moon shone bright (which may be oxymoronic), when the clock struck shit.

That's right. I said the clock struck 'shit'. I would like to propose the term 'shit o'clock' to represent the time in the Department when the shit hits the fan. I suppose 'arse o'clock' would be acceptable, or indeed 'trouble o'clock', if you are less foul mouthed.

Anyway, all had gone just fine, until shit o'clock.

The BatPhone rang trilling of the impending arrival of a young sailor who had fallen 20 feet from a gate, part of which had detached itself and landed on his leg. He had, somewhat amazingly, avoided other injury, but as we peeled back the splinting on his lower leg, it became apparent that that was more than enough.

It was shattered, ivory white splinters of bone prodding obscenely through what was, under the circumstances, a relatively neat wound. It really was smashed.

It was then that the BatPhone belched into life again, this time announcing the arrival of a woman stabbed in the neck, and shocked.

While still digesting this, the Phone sounded again, this time forewarning of a patient in drink, having sustained a head injury, and with a GCS of 3. The paramedic calling chose an unfortunate turn of phrase to indicate that the patient was in Police custody.

"In drink, head injury with GCS 3; oh, and he's arrested."

So I was significantly relieved to see him full of pulse and breathing when he rolled in, seconds after the stabbing.

I barely noticed the arrival of the second stabbing victim