Midnight Rambler

Or, Shroom musing with whiskey...

This might see me skating thin ice; it's cod philosophy anyway, not medical. Bail out now if it seems apt.

On beginnings...

I have always been fascinated by beginnings; mostly when I come upon something halfway through. But I guess that don't make me special. We all like to know our origins, our back story. Or someone else's. How we define beginnings are more or less important. More, if you're a ball of cells in utero; less if you only want to know how things turn out. Do you turn to the last page of a book?

Where do things begin? Are there always fireworks, and choirs of cherubim and seraphim? Not usually, unless you're at a synchronised firework display, or some all-comers fat kid sing off. But the idea is as old as time itself. The big bang must surely be the greatest firework display ever; and if your bent is more religious... well, "Let there be light" is as close to lighting there blue touchpaper as you'll ever need. And who's to say God didn't turn to the massed cherubim, and pronounce "Ta-Daa!"

Where do we begin? Fireworks? We surely hope so, and we surely dread the damp squib. But can it be simpler? With someone letting you in out of the rain? With someone accepting your clumsy effort to open a beer bottle?

Two become one? No; one becoming two. Maybe it starts with your "one" fitting into someone else's "two". When you can't but think of them with out a smile; when, wherever you are, you wish you were sitting next to them.

Is a beginning ever more than just that? A beginning. Can you tell what'll happen next? I don't think you should try. However important it is, it's just a beginning. Strap on, and see what it turns into, eh?

Maybe it's just as simple as the philosopher Dylan said: "I'll let you be in my dream, if I can be in yours"

Posting, For The Love of Posting

I warned you.

While I do have more meaty subjects in mind, time ain't on my side. (Thus paraphrasing the philosopher Jagger)

Curiously, I have noted a blip in my reading figures. Up until last week, I've held fairly steady, 20 - 30 punters a day, give or take.

Last week, I averaged 115.

I'm not sure why, either. Someone out there linking to me, or preaching the Gospel of Shroom?

I'll check, and let you know, cos I'm sure you're all dying to know. Welcome anyway, dear readers. Stay awhile if it suits.

Oh, and my upper lip continues to look ridiculous...

The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll

Well, I've moved hospitals... this is in general a pain in the arse, for a whole host of reasons. This is what I wanted to blog about, for want of a better, more pertinent thing.

But today I had some bad news... The details should remain obscure. Although it's my bad news, as it were, it belongs to other people more than it does me; and they have no real desire to see it plastered over here. Suffice to say it has knocked me for six a little.

Pain sure brings out in the best in people, doesn't it? Thus spake the philosopher Zimmerman. I'm not sure he was right. I guess it focuses everyone. When something like this happens, you wonder. Is this my fault? Could I have done something different, something that would have made a difference? I think the answer is mostly "no"; but I wonder... it continues to show my selfish side to the max.

This is someone else's pain, and around it are circles of despair, each one a little further removed from the next. Where mine is depends on who's pain it was to start with. I know it's not about me, but somehow I still find a way to make it about me.

Time after time, I have put things off, signing up to the theory of 'there's always more time'
I'm sure you all know it, but usually there isn't. Right now, I have never felt more regret for the lazy way I have abandoned my life for my work. Somehow it feels like I have abandoned more than just my own...

You Can't Always Get What You Want

Thus spake the philosopher Jagger.

Musing over my previous post, I am reminded of something that occurred when I was a HouseSurgeon at another DGH. The details are less well known to me, as I was just ScutBoy, but it illustrates the same principles well. I'm beginning to think that foremost among them should be "don't believe what you're told", no matter who tells you.

In this case, a patient was brought to the A&E (as was) having been 'found down' on a railway track. There was no suggestion that he'd been hit by a train - i.e. he was in one piece - but he was under a bridge. My understanding is that he was first assessed by a rapid response team. Two basic options present themselves:

One - he has jumped / fallen from the bridge above. Classification: trauma. Plan: rapid transfer, eager doctors waiting.

Two - he was walking along the railway track, and passed out here. Classification: Not Trauma. Plan: call some other guys to ship him to hospital; tell no-one he's coming.

The on-scene assessment was the latter.

He duly arrived in hospital labelled "collapse ?cause". No bother he can wait his turn. This was, of course, back in the 'good old days', when waiting really meant waiting.

He duly waited. After some time, the duty Senior HouseSurgeon was passing through the Department, and spotted said patient. She was of the opinion that he was entirely too white a shade of pale, and stopped to give him the once over.

One quick primary survey later, an open book pelvic fracture was discovered.

Much later an history of attempted suicide by leaping was discerned.
My memory does not extend to exactly what assessment this fella received on arrival, but it evidently didn't extend to routine re-assessment. Or did it? I genuinely don't know, bu somehow he slipped through the net, mostly because his initial label was along the lines of "he's o.k.", and it stuck.

On a lighter note, it was while working at this hospital that I had the pleasure of working on call over Christmas, and the A&E staff all dressed up for Christmas Eve / Day. Nothing beats the look on a patient's face when he opens his eyes post resuscitation, and the first thing he sees is a blond nurse dressed as an angel.

Nurse, The Screens!

A morally satisfying weekend educating my fellow medics, as the scramble to get MMC boxes ticked heats up.

I also managed to see Ma and Pa Shroom. I was slightly concerned to hear that Pa Shroom's memory is fading. I'm sure this is, at least in part, because he's retired. When he was working, and I was a student, I was always amazed at his superior knowledge of anatomy - even for those bits he didn't cut regularly. Now Pa Shroom bemoans the loss of this knowledge, and he was telling me his short term memory is failing him too. I hope that's all it is. I couldn't bear to see him dementing...

After my hapless flailing at the fairer sex on Friday, a cheeky note from a fellow Blogonaut brought light to my soul. Thanks again, even if you were humouring me.

As the philosopher Springsteen once wrote, "Don't call for your surgeon, even he says it's too late: it's not your lungs this time, it's your heart that holds your fate."

And to finish, a picture that I 'discovered' this weekend it took my breath away. The essence of human spirit?; or maybe just a young, scared boy running for his life...?