A & E

A very short story

There was no urgency in accident and emergency that morning. The man in front smelt like a pet shop. Perhaps he'd had an accident with a Parakeet. Everybody assembled, had read the signs

 'Do not go to A&E unless it's an Emergency' 

'A&E are not here to kiss it better'.

It was a Saturday however and where were the Great British Pubic to go if they needed it kissing better. Hand & Finger Accidents were the norm this particular morning. The rotund, compassionate, middle aged lady behind the glass had not received a call from the out of hours surgery so they didn't have the details on the computer. "What seems to be the matter"? "It's rather a delicate and personal matter". With that the fifteen other wannabee patients stood to attention and pricked up their ears. Delicate and personal, this should be good! Having had to shout out the delicate and personal matter three times much to the amusement of the others, Mo sat down. Her confidentiality betrayed by the impersonal nature of the Accident and Emergency Waiting Room. Mo wondered what would happen if a real accident and emergency happened, like a man walking in with a severed arm, packed in ice. Would the maiden ask "What is the problem?" Would she say "One moment please while playing with the cord on the phone". Would she ask what the name of the Doctor was and where in the West Midlands the surgery was? "O'yve severed me arm"! Take a seat over there then please.

Mo should have checked what the current waiting times were, were they three hours or fours at the moment. If she'd planned ahead she could have taken her knitting and her crossword. The NHS hierarchy were in full throttle this morning. All the pubic knew that they were getting it for free and they weren't in a rush. Crutches and crushed minds littered the square waiting area. There was room for 15 to sit down. God help the 16th thought Mo! The man with the severed arm might have to leave the limb with the lady on reception and go and sit down. Things had changed since she'd been a nurse with the newly founded NHS. Gone were the days of the matrons and sisters, the starched uniforms and hats. Now a different colour two piece to mark out the capable from the not so capable or rather the ones more capable but on less pay. Purple, Green, Light Blue, Dark Blue onwards and upwards until you got to Jeremy Hunt who was wearing red with horns and a trident. Mo listened to the news and followed with interest the goings on in the Junior Doctors Strike. Nobody wants to get ill but there are an awful lot of sick people. A huge population and a creaking system. If they can't fix you up, patch you up and send you on your way, then you die. Hopefully without having had too many hospital dinners. Nobody wants to work weekends even for more money. A 7 day a week NHS was perhaps possible in theory but not in practice because human beings need a break and a rest from the stress and strain so they might be there in person but not in mind.  A nurse in light blue came out and called Mo's name!  As she passed a man with his leg in plaster he looked at the 79 year old and said "Didn't you used to play for Glasgow Rangers and Celtic"?  Everybody turned as a Mosquito in a Brazilian football shirt came in to say that he'd been bitten by a human.