Deja Vu

Martha felt the steady hum of activity on the unit immediately as she swiped her card and the automatic doors whooshed open. The sound of shrieking toddlers was intermingled with the verbal spaghetti of medical handovers, and the constant beeps of phones and call bells.

Swigging her coffee, she braced herself for yet another twelve hours of chaos in the Emergency Department. This was her final night of the week, and Martha could think of nothing more exciting than the prospect of watching back-to-back episodes of Come Dine with Me, semi-comatose on the sofa.

Andrew smiled wearily at her as she walked down the corridor.

“Morning, Martha! Did you sleep well?”

“Oh yes, Andy! 4 whole hours! Must be a new record for me.”

Andy chuckled, then discussed the patients who were in Majors, with various complaints from infection to trauma.

“Last patient is Mrs Reese. 73 years old, known epileptic, allergic to penicillin. She attended today after falling in the garden. Suspected fractured NOF, awaiting the X-ray review. I’ve given her a boatload of painkillers but bless her, it’s not really touching the sides. Need the plan from Orthopods and a bed upstairs.”

Martha waved Andy off and went in to see Mrs Reese, who was in Bed 4. Martha felt a tinge of déjà vu.

She was greeted by a dainty, sparrow-like woman whose grey hair was pinned up in curls. Mrs Reese smiled at Martha

“You look like someone I know.”

Suddenly, Martha realised: this was Madame Reese: the lady who taught her ballet as a teenager.

“Madame Reese…”

“Oh, Martha Harding, it is you! I’ve still got my memory yet.” She winked.

“Yes Mrs Reese, and I’m going to be looking after you.”

“Then I couldn’t be in safer hands.”

Tonight, was going to be alright.