As Jane left the office, she joined her colleagues hurrying down the corridor. There had been problems with the alarms recently, and staff were jaded by the frequency of false alarms. When the alarms went off, some staff ran as if their life depended on it. Agency staff tended to walk in a manner suggesting they were out for an afternoon stroll. Others would not bother to conceal their frustration; it was their preference to stay seated reading The Daily Express in the patient lounge.
Arriving at bedroom 14, it was apparent that James had sounded his alarm. It was a scene of devastation. Jane had never seen so much blood before. Blood splattered every surface: ceiling, walls, door and window. Grant pulled out a pair of purple examination gloves from his back pocket. Adrenaline flooded his body, and he fumbled around, struggling to put them on. Jane paused for a moment before pulling the radio from her waist of her trousers, “This is Jane on Lacan Ward. We need an emergency ambulance immediately. Threat to life is high. We have a patient with an arterial bleed.” The radio crackled into life. “Understood Lacan Ward. Patient with life threatening condition needs emergency ambulance.” Grant was applying pressure to the wound and as Jane was giving directions to the rest of her staff, Joyce wandered in. “What’s going on?” she enquired.
“Joyce! Please leave! Immediately. James? Please make sure Joyce stays away,” ordered Jane. James ushered Joyce from the room, “There’s no need to shout out at me! I told them there was going to be a sacrifice. I’m next!” They walked to the dining room together and James carried on where Ruby had left off putting the breakfast cereals out. “I want a cigarette. No. I need a cigarette, James. They’ve gone missing already. I’ve been here for 5 minutes, and they’ve gone and bloody well stolen them again. Fucking Ezekiel. Fucking neighbours.”
In response to the alarm, staff started to arrive from other wards to provide assistance to Jane. She directed them to go and assist James to ensure the ward did not become disrupted by the emergency she had on her hands. As James was finishing his obs, he saw the ambulance arrive at the ward entrance. He opened the door and let the paramedics in and escorted them down to room 14. The patient in room 14 was Sarah, a 47 year old woman with a long history of severe depression. The paramedics patched Sarah up as best they could and continued to hold a dressing to Sarah’s wound as they left with Ruby for Oakdale General Hospital. As Jane left Sarah’s room, she didn’t stop to survey the mess. Instead, she thanked Paul for starting the clean up operation. Turning on her heels and taking a deep breath, Jane made her way back to the office.
Grant had started to fill in an incident form. Grant looked up, “You alright Mrs?” Jane flopped down. “I’ve had better mornings. Yep. I’ve definitely had better mornings.” There were many thoughts in Jane’s mind. Not least, why serious incidents always generated so much paperwork. Another prominent thought was her own suicide attempt when she 21, though Jane knew this wasn’t something to dwell on now. Instead, Jane said “You’ve started that form, Grant. We should finish that before we get on with morning meds. I’ll go and find James as you’ll need his input.” “Thanks Jane,” Grant replied.
Jane returned to the office with James. “Gosh. What a morning, James! As you know, whenever a serious incident occurs on any ward in the trust, we have to fill in a load of forms to document what has taken place. The hope is that by reporting the data, the risks can be managed and reduced.” “Like making sure unwell patients don’t have access to razor blades, that sort of thing, yeah?” “Spot on, James. Absolutely.” Grant beckoned for James to come over. He nervously stood next to Grant who gestured for him to take a seat. “I’m sorry,” started James. Grant gave James a puzzled look. “What for, James? You handled yourself really well this morning.” “Well, I gave Sarah her razor yesterday. I can’t remember whether I asked for it back. I’m going to lose my job, aren’t I?” “Whoooa there! Hold your horses, James. I’ll tell you what, Jane will make us a cuppa, won’t you Jane? And then we’ll talk this through together.”
Jane left the office to make drinks for them all. Grant liked coffee first thing: strong but milky and with 2 sugars. James and Jane were both tea drinkers. As Jane waited for the kettle to boil, she locked herself in the staff kitchen. Sitting down on a rolling step stall, she held her head in her hands, closed her eyes and began to weep.
