OK, here it is. I've been working on tightening this up, can't see any more ways to do it, need other eyes on it:
Nurse Karen Chapel’s Story
Some shifts in A&E can be seriously weird. This one was!
It was a couple of hours into a night shift in my hospital. A Friday night one, which is always busy – and just about as it was getting into the really busy time (pub chucking out time) at that. And then we got a call from the ambulance service – one of the nasty ones.
“Four casualties incoming. Three assault victims, two of them unconscious, and a rape victim. Keep the rape victim away from the others, and get the evidence-gathering kit ready. Oh, and there are several policemen and a civilian with them. The civvie, you have got to see!” And the ambulance driver chuckled. It didn’t seem very appropriate, but I was going to find out that perhaps it was.
The first to arrive was a man, who looked as if his face had been smashed in with a hammer. Blood everywhere, and he was completely unconscious and intubated. One of our trauma doctors was walking by his side; despite the serious injury, the doctor didn’t seem concerned. There was a policeman with him, as well.
After checking him in, the doctor ordered a battery of tests including a skull and c-spine CAT scan and tox screen. He did say that the policeman had to stay with him, and told us why. “This one here picked a fight with the wrong opponent. The cops tell me that the damage is from some sort of martial arts strike – three of them attacked someone else with knives, and lost. Just after at least one of them had probably committed rape – the victim’s on her way in. So is the one who did this.”
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, and I could see why. Rape is nasty, but having your face smashed in is a lot worse – I suppose. Fortunately, neither has ever happened to me.
The next one from that scene came in; this one handcuffed, semi-conscious and obviously in quite a lot of pain. The doctor told me that this customer had fallen face-forward onto a concrete pavement. And then the third man came in, moaning in pain from an injured arm despite the morphine he turned out to have been given. These two were fairly routine, really. It doesn’t do to get too blasé, but this sort of injury we see a dozen times a day. Both of these two came in on wheelchairs. As did the next, who turned out to be the (alleged, we are supposed to say) rape victim. She was wearing a policeman’s high-vis jacket, presumably borrowed from one of the attending officers.
As I might have expected, the rape victim looked a little glassy-eyed and she had sundry scrapes. But I couldn’t help looking at the woman walking in next to the victim, and I imagine that the men in the department had even more trouble keeping their eyes off her. The noise level in the department dropped like a stone, so everyone could hear the faint jingle of mail.
Yes, mail. The first seriously odd thing about this woman was that she was dressed head-to-foot in chainmail, and looked as if she was completely used to it. And the second was that she was absolutely gorgeous. The sort of look that most women spend all day in makeup to achieve – except that it was completely obvious she wasn’t wearing any. One could almost hear the splashing of drool on the floor. Men!
And the way she moved – Well, let’s just say that I trained in dance for a while once, I know some professional dancers, and they would weep at the perfection of her walk. I’ve seen that sort of poise a couple of times, and the only people who walk like that are world-class dancers and really high-end martial artists. She was tall, too. Six feet or a little more.
The third odd thing was that she was looking really confused, and checking in all directions for something. Maybe she was expecting to be jumped? Well, considering that apparently she had just been in a serious fight, I suppose I could understand that.
The paramedic and policeman who had come in with the rape victim walked over to my counter. The policeman said, “We need to check this lady in. The doctor on the ambulance has checked her over, but we need the rape evidence kit and someone to use it, please. The minor scrapes need looking at, too.”
I said, “Well, best bring her over then so I can get her details. By the way, what’s with the re-enactment gear on the other one?”
The policeman said, “Well, we are still trying to work that out. Apparently she can cut up rough if she wants to – but apart from not wanting to let the victim out of her sight she hasn’t been much of a problem. No loud noises around her might be a good idea, though.”
I got a colleague to take over the desk for me, and went over to the woman in armour – who tensed slightly, gave me a fairly obvious look-over, then relaxed. “Sorry that everyone is talking about you. First of all, could you give me your name please? I don’t like referring to someone I’m talking to as ‘hey, you’.” She smiled slightly and relaxed a little more. “You are the first to ask me that tonight, you know. I was beginning to think no-one here had any manners. Sigrun Sifdottir at your service. And your name?”
I told her and said, “I’ve come over to you because I am told you have just been in a knife fight. I’m also told you claim not to have been wounded, but people sometimes take damage without noticing it especially in the heat of battle.” She said, “Granted. But I am fairly sure I am unhurt.” Me: “You may be wrong. And it is my responsibility to ensure that people coming in here are properly examined and treated if they need it.” (I was picking up this lady’s rather formal style.) “You wouldn’t want me to be reprimanded, would you? And before your next objection, there are policemen all over the place and although they aren’t obvious, security guards as well – and her attackers are in no condition to give it another try. Thanks to you, I’m told.”
She thought this over for a second and said, “All right. I wouldn’t want someone I’ve only just met reprimanded over this. And anyway, it seems to me that you are a professional and someone stubborn enough not to take No for an answer. Where will the examination be done?” I motioned to an empty cubicle nearby (there’s a miracle!) and said, “Over there – there are curtains of course. Best we can offer for privacy.”
“Oh, I am not worried about that. I am modest, but not to the point of idiocy.” And off we both went, the few yards to the cubicle, and I pulled the curtains.
“Right, first of all off with that armour. I can’t examine you through all that metal.” She nodded and, first of all, made an odd gesture as if she was removing a belt with something on it and leaning it against the wall. And then the cloak she was wearing, and a small backpack which fitted neatly in the small of the back. Getting the armour (and the padding underneath) off was a bit of a production, but off it came. And then I found out for sure that I have no inclination to play for the other side, so to speak. I think a male nurse or doctor might have struggled to maintain a professional manner.
Her skin was absolutely flawless except for a few very old and faint scars. He muscles were defined as I’ve never seen before except on Olympic athletes and professional bodybuilders. And let’s just say that she was... well-equipped? Her underwear was a bit odd but well, that’s none of my business. I briefly wondered what she would look like in a bikini...
“Have you quite finished staring yet?”
“Sorry, I don’t often run into anyone as super-fit as you obviously are. I’m going to have to do a bit more staring, I’m afraid.” And I proceeded to thoroughly examine her looking for any wounds. There weren’t any; not even a scratch. When I’d finished with this, I said, “The examination isn’t over, I’m afraid.” And got out my little torch and checked out her eyes, and finished the rest of the physical exam.
When I got out the blood pressure equipment, she started. “What’s that for?” I said, “Partly to check your heart and circulation, but if you’re worried...” I put the cuff on myself and checked my own pulse and blood pressure – both a little up, perhaps not surprisingly. “Now you?” She nodded. I did think it a little odd that she didn’t recognise a blood pressure cuff, though.
Her resting pulse was as I was beginning to expect – marathon runner level – and blood pressure was perfectly normal. She said, “Well, what’s the verdict?” I said, “No holes, as you said. It seems you haven’t taken a blow to the head – at least not recently – and not only is the rest fine, you are the fittest person I’ve examined in years.”
Nurse Karen Chapel’s Story
Some shifts in A&E can be seriously weird. This one was!
It was a couple of hours into a night shift in my hospital. A Friday night one, which is always busy – and just about as it was getting into the really busy time (pub chucking out time) at that. And then we got a call from the ambulance service – one of the nasty ones.
“Four casualties incoming. Three assault victims, two of them unconscious, and a rape victim. Keep the rape victim away from the others, and get the evidence-gathering kit ready. Oh, and there are several policemen and a civilian with them. The civvie, you have got to see!” And the ambulance driver chuckled. It didn’t seem very appropriate, but I was going to find out that perhaps it was.
The first to arrive was a man, who looked as if his face had been smashed in with a hammer. Blood everywhere, and he was completely unconscious and intubated. One of our trauma doctors was walking by his side; despite the serious injury, the doctor didn’t seem concerned. There was a policeman with him, as well.
After checking him in, the doctor ordered a battery of tests including a skull and c-spine CAT scan and tox screen. He did say that the policeman had to stay with him, and told us why. “This one here picked a fight with the wrong opponent. The cops tell me that the damage is from some sort of martial arts strike – three of them attacked someone else with knives, and lost. Just after at least one of them had probably committed rape – the victim’s on her way in. So is the one who did this.”
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, and I could see why. Rape is nasty, but having your face smashed in is a lot worse – I suppose. Fortunately, neither has ever happened to me.
The next one from that scene came in; this one handcuffed, semi-conscious and obviously in quite a lot of pain. The doctor told me that this customer had fallen face-forward onto a concrete pavement. And then the third man came in, moaning in pain from an injured arm despite the morphine he turned out to have been given. These two were fairly routine, really. It doesn’t do to get too blasé, but this sort of injury we see a dozen times a day. Both of these two came in on wheelchairs. As did the next, who turned out to be the (alleged, we are supposed to say) rape victim. She was wearing a policeman’s high-vis jacket, presumably borrowed from one of the attending officers.
As I might have expected, the rape victim looked a little glassy-eyed and she had sundry scrapes. But I couldn’t help looking at the woman walking in next to the victim, and I imagine that the men in the department had even more trouble keeping their eyes off her. The noise level in the department dropped like a stone, so everyone could hear the faint jingle of mail.
Yes, mail. The first seriously odd thing about this woman was that she was dressed head-to-foot in chainmail, and looked as if she was completely used to it. And the second was that she was absolutely gorgeous. The sort of look that most women spend all day in makeup to achieve – except that it was completely obvious she wasn’t wearing any. One could almost hear the splashing of drool on the floor. Men!
And the way she moved – Well, let’s just say that I trained in dance for a while once, I know some professional dancers, and they would weep at the perfection of her walk. I’ve seen that sort of poise a couple of times, and the only people who walk like that are world-class dancers and really high-end martial artists. She was tall, too. Six feet or a little more.
The third odd thing was that she was looking really confused, and checking in all directions for something. Maybe she was expecting to be jumped? Well, considering that apparently she had just been in a serious fight, I suppose I could understand that.
The paramedic and policeman who had come in with the rape victim walked over to my counter. The policeman said, “We need to check this lady in. The doctor on the ambulance has checked her over, but we need the rape evidence kit and someone to use it, please. The minor scrapes need looking at, too.”
I said, “Well, best bring her over then so I can get her details. By the way, what’s with the re-enactment gear on the other one?”
The policeman said, “Well, we are still trying to work that out. Apparently she can cut up rough if she wants to – but apart from not wanting to let the victim out of her sight she hasn’t been much of a problem. No loud noises around her might be a good idea, though.”
I got a colleague to take over the desk for me, and went over to the woman in armour – who tensed slightly, gave me a fairly obvious look-over, then relaxed. “Sorry that everyone is talking about you. First of all, could you give me your name please? I don’t like referring to someone I’m talking to as ‘hey, you’.” She smiled slightly and relaxed a little more. “You are the first to ask me that tonight, you know. I was beginning to think no-one here had any manners. Sigrun Sifdottir at your service. And your name?”
I told her and said, “I’ve come over to you because I am told you have just been in a knife fight. I’m also told you claim not to have been wounded, but people sometimes take damage without noticing it especially in the heat of battle.” She said, “Granted. But I am fairly sure I am unhurt.” Me: “You may be wrong. And it is my responsibility to ensure that people coming in here are properly examined and treated if they need it.” (I was picking up this lady’s rather formal style.) “You wouldn’t want me to be reprimanded, would you? And before your next objection, there are policemen all over the place and although they aren’t obvious, security guards as well – and her attackers are in no condition to give it another try. Thanks to you, I’m told.”
She thought this over for a second and said, “All right. I wouldn’t want someone I’ve only just met reprimanded over this. And anyway, it seems to me that you are a professional and someone stubborn enough not to take No for an answer. Where will the examination be done?” I motioned to an empty cubicle nearby (there’s a miracle!) and said, “Over there – there are curtains of course. Best we can offer for privacy.”
“Oh, I am not worried about that. I am modest, but not to the point of idiocy.” And off we both went, the few yards to the cubicle, and I pulled the curtains.
“Right, first of all off with that armour. I can’t examine you through all that metal.” She nodded and, first of all, made an odd gesture as if she was removing a belt with something on it and leaning it against the wall. And then the cloak she was wearing, and a small backpack which fitted neatly in the small of the back. Getting the armour (and the padding underneath) off was a bit of a production, but off it came. And then I found out for sure that I have no inclination to play for the other side, so to speak. I think a male nurse or doctor might have struggled to maintain a professional manner.
Her skin was absolutely flawless except for a few very old and faint scars. He muscles were defined as I’ve never seen before except on Olympic athletes and professional bodybuilders. And let’s just say that she was... well-equipped? Her underwear was a bit odd but well, that’s none of my business. I briefly wondered what she would look like in a bikini...
“Have you quite finished staring yet?”
“Sorry, I don’t often run into anyone as super-fit as you obviously are. I’m going to have to do a bit more staring, I’m afraid.” And I proceeded to thoroughly examine her looking for any wounds. There weren’t any; not even a scratch. When I’d finished with this, I said, “The examination isn’t over, I’m afraid.” And got out my little torch and checked out her eyes, and finished the rest of the physical exam.
When I got out the blood pressure equipment, she started. “What’s that for?” I said, “Partly to check your heart and circulation, but if you’re worried...” I put the cuff on myself and checked my own pulse and blood pressure – both a little up, perhaps not surprisingly. “Now you?” She nodded. I did think it a little odd that she didn’t recognise a blood pressure cuff, though.
Her resting pulse was as I was beginning to expect – marathon runner level – and blood pressure was perfectly normal. She said, “Well, what’s the verdict?” I said, “No holes, as you said. It seems you haven’t taken a blow to the head – at least not recently – and not only is the rest fine, you are the fittest person I’ve examined in years.”
If so, I'd try to be a little subtler about how you put it in. 
