Casualty (1986) s01e04 Episode Script

- Going to that party tonight? - No.
- Go on.
I said you were gonna go.
- (Car horn) (Ice cream van) - All right, then, yeah.
Bye.
- Bye.
(Car horn) - (Man) Emergency.
- After you, gents.
Waiting time is about one hour.
It's my brother and he's done his head in.
I know.
Yeah, I know that too.
All right.
I'll see if Logan can take him.
- Musical beds? - My favourite pastime.
- (Kuba shouting) - Yes.
- I should have brought a photographer.
- What? Harry Horner, London Evening Star.
And what's the problem, Mr.
Horner? Well, I seem to have this pain in my chest.
It's probably my heart.
- (Man) Errol.
- But if you were to lay hands on me, I'm sure we could save the NHS thousands.
What's the point of me navigating if you don't turn off when I say? What's the point of turning off before we have to? Derek, I grew up there.
I know when to turn off.
Look at the map.
It's clearly quicker if we turn off at the next exit.
- You always have to be right, don't you? - Don't get excited.
It's bad for the baby.
Worse for the baby having an idiot for a father.
- Murky thoughts, Ewart? - Megan.
No, just murky coffee.
- I'm afraid he's not in his office.
- Maybe I could just wander round? Mr.
Plimmer deals with anything to do with the press.
I'd much rather be dealt with by you.
They'll come round, you'll see.
It's all right for you.
Your parents are six foot under.
He's gonna be our child, not theirs.
We'll bring him up our way.
She.
I think it's a she.
Well, possibly.
(Horn beeps) (Horn beeps) Oh, look at this tosser.
Look where you're going, mate, instead of yakking to your bird.
What's she like? I bet she's not a patch on this little darling, eh? Ooh.
How'd you like her to keep you warm, then? Oh, look at this.
Down to 30.
Ah, it's probably some wally, gone for his dinner, left the bloody signs on.
(Truck horn beeps) (Car horn beeps) His mate said he fell over.
- Drink? - Hm.
Drunk, I'd say.
- (Clattering) - Er excuse me.
Thank you.
- Mm.
Not nice.
- Hm.
I thought you'd better see.
- I feel sick.
- (Duffy laughs) What happened to you, Earl? - Leave me alone.
- I'll go with that.
OK, let's keep an eye on him and do a set of neuro obs.
- Yeah.
Right.
- Can you make that every 15 minutes? Oh, OK.
Yeah.
- Who's the new bloke? - I don't have a new bloke.
Small and scruffy with his tongue in your ear? - Charlie - He is a friend - and his tongue was in his mouth.
- Duffy.
- They're just good friends.
- Duffy, have you seen Plimmer? No.
- Kuba - .
.
16, 1916.
- Have you seen Ewart? - Er, yes, yes.
- Well, where? - September.
In his office.
- Not any more.
- He has a big problem, Susie.
A man like Mr.
Plimmer, in order to think, he need repose.
- September - Repose.
I know his wife's just left him but why can't he take Valium, like everybody else? And how long have you been having these dizzy spells? Erm, not sure.
Well, would it be like a day or two days? A week? Yes.
About that.
Yes, and have you seen your own GP? Mrs.
Farmer, have you seen your own GP? - Yes.
- Yes, and what does he say? He's very brisk.
Always very brisk.
- I've tried to explain.
- Has he examined you? He always gives me a prescription, though.
Valium for the aches, Mogadons to sleep.
You don't like him very much, do you? Well, he's, he's just very young and sure.
Yes, well, a lot of them are, love.
What you have to do is put them in their place, tell them what's what.
I do.
Ewart, what about this bed situation? It's getting ridiculous.
- I know.
- Well, what does Parker say? - He knows too.
- I spend half my life running round wards, pleading with sisters to find beds.
Maybe you should try writing to your MP.
Maybe you should try prescribing him some uppers.
Certainly worth thinking about.
This kid in number one, the story is he was at a party and he fell but my money's on somebody bashed him.
Let's get an X-ray and I'll have a look.
Kuba, have you seen King? Er, well, I see him come in, yes.
- Oh, thanks.
- Pleasure.
(Ewart) Susie.
(Susie) This is Mr.
Plimmer.
- Ah, er, Mr.
Horner, Mr.
Plimmer.
- Yeah? The reporter from the London Evening Star.
- What reporter? - I thought you were gonna say what London Evening Star.
Your, er, Mr.
Fairhead is expecting me.
- Is he? - He's expecting our medical reporter but there's been an outbreak of salmonella up north, three OAPs dead, - so I'm covering for him.
- Covering for what, Mr? Horner, Harry Horner.
We're gonna put you on the map, Mr.
Plimmer.
This permanent night shift is a new idea, isn't it?.
The Star keeps its finger on the pulse, - excuse the witticism.
- Mr.
Fairhead had no authority.
I quite understand but he was probably only trying to do you a favour.
Who's the raincoat bending Plimmer's ear? - Oh, some reporter.
- Mm.
The ones the Gazette send - are usually about 16.
- He's Fleet Street.
Oh.
Someone famous must have died in the hospital.
Here, Duff, do you think I'm tall enough to be a model? No.
(Chuckles) - Karen Atkins? - Yes? Cubicle four.
Over here, love.
- Are you with her? Take her up there.
- I can't.
Ah, Mr.
Fairhead.
Mr.
Plimmer.
- Er, Mr.
Horner.
- Of the London Evening Star.
Oh.
Oh, yeah.
Ah, I should have mentioned.
You certainly should.
Let's have a look.
No.
Oh, that looks nasty.
What happened? - We was putting in a stud.
- A stud? Yeah, a stud in the nose, see, like mine.
Oh.
Well, how do you do that? - Needle, of course.
- Isn't that painful? Well, not if you use a sausage.
- A sausage? - Yeah.
You get like a frozen chipolata sausage and you stick it up your nose and then you get the needle and then you stick it through.
- (Thud) - Oh, come on, love.
Just act normally.
Take no notice of me.
- Pretend I wasn't even here.
- I'll try and imagine that.
Course, this isn't the first hospital story I've done, you know.
- No? - I was on one a couple of weeks ago.
That was an all-nighter too.
It wasn't a hospital, as such, more like a private clinic.
Kensington, you know.
- Have you ever heard of Tricia Spitz.
- No.
Oh, she's, ooh, she's like Cindi Lauper.
Bigger.
Now, she's over here on her first European tour and her manager whips her into this clinic, then he issues a statement.
You know what he says? She was in for an ovarian cyst.
Well, you know what that means, don't you? - Yeah, it's a small growth on the, er - Oh, come on.
It might mean that to you medical blokes but this clinic has done more ovarian cysts on pop stars, debs and royalty than you and me have had hot dinners.
In case you haven't tumbled it, old son, she was in for a quick abortion.
- Get away.
- You can't say it in so many words otherwise you end up with a writ for libel.
But a few cryptic comments, pictures of before and after.
- Megan.
- Yep? - This is Mr.
Horner from Fleet Street.
- Oh, really.
He's, er, doing a piece on us.
This is the woman you wanna talk to.
- Oh, right.
- So I'll just leave the two of you to it.
- Show him the ropes.
- Oh, certainly, Charlie, yes.
- Now, Mr Sorry, what was your name? - Horner, Harry Horner.
Now what can I possibly show you? Ermthe plaster room? - Terrific.
- Plaster? - Love it.
- Broken bones.
- My favourite.
- Follow me.
- Clive? - What is it, Kuba? Nothing.
Charlie just asking where you are.
Hm.
Well, I'm here, collecting some stuff.
Now you wanna run along and tell him? You are a stupid man, Clive.
You have a good, respectable position, you've got responsibilities.
Come on, man, what is this, some kind of lecture? I see the bottle.
I don't have to see it.
I can smell.
Mm.
Move out of my way, Kuba, I've got work to do.
Clive, listen to me.
You have to stop this.
Now you listen to me, Kuba, lay off my back.
Private party, Kuba? - Can I have a word? - Ewart, I know what you're gonna say.
- I honestly didn't think - You didn't think, period.
I had reason to believe they would be really on our side.
That's why I phoned.
Have you ever read the London Evening Star? It's full of old ladies waiting years for operations.
Old ladies are waiting years for operations.
The editor probably has shares in BUPA.
I thought if somebody wrote about the shift problems we have, it might help.
You surprise me, Charlie.
I never thought you were this naive.
(Muttering) What happened to you? Someone eat your last Rolo? Sorry.
(Clears throat) It's nothing.
I don't like the look of this at all.
No fracture as such but - Just get lost.
- Hang on.
I want to look in your eyes.
- Hang on a minute.
That's it.
- Oh.
Pupils are very sluggish.
I'd say he was bashed with something blunt.
- (Man) .
.
can't wait.
- Wine bottle? (Man) I'm waiting.
(Clive) Can I help? - Could be extradural haematoma.
- (Man) I need a doctor.
- Excuse me a minute.
- I can't wait all night.
- Have you been to - No, he hasn't.
- What's your problem? - This spade says I've gotta wait.
I can't.
I got this pain in my chest.
Give me something.
I think I've had a heart attack.
You're the healthiest looking heart attack I've ever seen.
Why don't you hop up on the bed? There's 20 other people waiting as well.
Check him against the junkie list.
I think he's after morphine.
Too much colour and strength for a heart attack.
- Perhaps he fancies going on the sick.
- Don't we all.
- Do you think it really is a heart attack? - It could just be bad indigestion.
- How old are you, Gary? - 29.
- Smoker? - Yeah.
40 a day.
I knew I should have given up years ago.
We might have a problem with the old ticker so we'll have to move you.
It's nothing too drastic.
I'll be back in a minute.
- I told you before, stay on that trolley.
- (Man) Get off! - Get this patient into crash.
- It's not a junkie after a fix? - No.
- Whoops.
- OK.
As soon as possible.
Thanks.
- (Duffy) Clive.
- Feast your eyes.
- Pile-up on the motorway.
Three casualties, two pretty serious.
Plus we've got someone here has had a massive coronary.
Terrific.
29 years old, looks in better nick than you do.
Thanks.
Oh, every hamburger and crisp packet should carry a health warning.
I thought he was after diamorphine.
Social judgements, Mr.
Fairhead.
I'm surprised at you.
- Try not to worry.
We'll sort you out.
- He said it was probably indigestion.
Well, nobody's perfect.
Who's the surgical registrar on tonight? - Thalton.
- Just my luck.
He can't grope you if you're draped over a coronary.
His amorous advances I can handle.
It's his superior man of science act that gets right up my nose.
- Nevertheless, shall I call him? - Yep.
- It's my mate! It's his leg! - (Officer) Easy, easy.
- He's in pain.
I think it's broken.
- (Andrew) I'm coming.
You're all right.
- (Trucker) Oh, God.
I think it's broken.
- (Moaning) (Andrew) What's your name? (Trucker) John.
- Get it out! - All right, all right.
- (Groans) - (Andrew) Oh, lovely.
- (Panicked yelps) - Just have a quick check.
Don't move.
- What's the damage, love? - Fracture of spine, head injuries, - internal bleeding.
Her airway's good.
- Contusion and KED, yeah? I will be back.
We need her cut out, the roof off but she'll have a drip.
- OK.
- IV fluids.
(Woman) You're all right.
(Man) Ow! - Won't be long.
- (Officer) I'll be with you in a minute.
- So where are they? - (Andrew) Here we are.
Right, come on, lads.
A couple of lads in the lorry.
Open wound, fracture, tib and fib.
Need the frac pack.
Come on! Where's the medical support? You lot run out of doctors? - It's a question of assessment.
- Oh, yeah.
Driver's a goner and we can't help the girl until we cut her out.
I still say you should have a doctor here.
Look, we get a doctor out of Casualty, that'd be them short, right.
By the time they get out here, we'll be halfway back.
Assessments.
I don't know what the Health Service is coming to.
It's all right for you.
Every time there's a strike, 100 coppers take out mortgages.
- Oh, aye? What d'you mean by that? - If I was on your wages, maybe I could join the property-owning democracy.
If your lot worked more and griped less, we wouldn't be in this state.
If you two don't mind, we want to cut the roof off.
Hang on, hang on.
All right, love? All right.
Here we are.
Give us a song.
Come on.
What's your name, love? There's a motorway, there's a motorway pile-up on the way.
Can you ring and see if we can nick anyone off the wards? - Yeah.
- Thanks.
(Sirens) Watch your legs now.
All right, darling? Nice and comfortable.
That's a good girl.
Good girl.
Won't be long now.
Check both tapes have been tied.
Nice and tight.
(Man on radio ) There are tailbacks on the northbound These cars'd never pass an MOT test in a million years.
- They won't have to now, will they? - Easy, easy.
The vehicle should never have been on the road.
That's up to your lot, innit? I want one more man over there who'll take the weight of the roof.
Oi, copper, come and take the drip off my mate, will you? - All right, all right.
- Come on.
Right? - Stand by to lift.
There we go.
- (Andrew) Right, lads.
Here we go now.
- Come on.
- All right.
And lift.
(Sirens) - Upsy-daisy.
- (Woman moans) (Andrew) All right, here we go.
- (Woman moans) - (Andrew) Easy does it.
Cover her up, please.
Take it easy now.
- She reminds me a bit of my daughter.
- They always do.
You think she's gonna make it? If she was your daughter with a hole in the head like that, would you want her to make it? Can you get a special for the old boy in number six? - Charlie.
- He's basically a social problem - but we're gonna have to admit him.
- Who am I gonna ask? Sister Procter, I suppose, yeah? Well, her arm is just about twistable.
And one, two and up.
You'll be all right, mate.
You'll be all right.
I just couldn't stop in time.
I didn't have time.
It's not my fault.
- Just hold on.
You'll be all right.
- Not my fault.
Cup of tea, nice and strong, lots of sugar.
That's the answer.
What, for him? No.
For you.
(Phone) Casualty.
Charge nurse.
Yes, approximately ten minutes? OK.
Thanks.
Get onto coronary, I want that Ml out of the crash room, pronto.
- Evening, Charlie.
- Mr.
Thalton.
You've got a lad with a head injury.
Dr Samuels wants me to look at him.
Cubicle one.
14 but he's had a bit to drink.
She thinks it could be an extradural haematoma.
- Interesting.
Is she about? - Well, she's a bit pushed.
There's been a pile-up.
We expect some serious customers.
Well, I expect she'll be glad to see me, then.
Yes, I expect so.
You won't forget cubicle one? - No, no.
- Charlie, did you know that Mr.
Thalton went to the same school as Prince Michael of Kent? Well, we all had to start somewhere, Kuba.
(Phone) - Go away.
- (Baz speaking quietly) (Thalton) Mm.
And he's been drinking? But the blow to the skull must have been quite heavy.
Interesting.
- Do we know what he was hit with? - Easy, easy.
- We're not certain that he was hit.
- His mates say that he fell.
Could have fallen.
Doesn't do to jump to conclusions, Baz.
Yes, well, he could have fallen But I still think it's a possible extradural.
You see the trouble is, with cases like these, you don't know what they might have in 'em.
- (Errol groans) - Besides alcohol, you mean? There's the old ganja, isn't there, Clive? How do we know he's not just stoned? - He's only 14.
- Exactly.
Doesn't take much at that age.
And let's not kid ourselves that 14 is too young.
I mean, it's part of the culture, isn't it? These Rastafarians have a very liberal attitude to marijuana.
Well-known fact.
I don't think he's Rastafarian, Doctor.
May not wear a woolly hat but the cultural influence is there.
Come on, Clive.
You should know your own people.
I think he's a kid who may be a bit drunk and even a bit stoned but he's also displaying the signs of an extradural haematoma.
When in doubt, wait and see.
That's my motto.
Neuro observations, Charlie.
Isn't it risky to wait too long? My dear Baz, we don't want to drill a hole in his head unnecessarily, do we? - (Baz) I realise that.
- Don't let him get to you.
- I'll try not to, bwana.
- Upper-class prat.
He may be a top-notch surgeon but he knows very little about people.
If I had a quid for every fool doctor that's put me down - I know.
You'd be a millionaire.
- That's right.
But what worries me is this one here.
Thalton sees black first, then he sees a 14-year-old kid with his head bashed in.
His value judgments are in danger of clouding his diagnosis.
Mrs.
Farmer, why's she wandering round the corridor? - She's just depressed.
- Is that a clinical assessment? She'd been on the street but clearly she's not a tramp.
Clearly.
So I suggest you get her a cup of hot, sweet tea and keep a proper eye on her till Dr Samuels can look at her.
Yes, Herr Plimmer.
- Atmosphere, very important.
- I'm sure.
- All right? - Oh, Charlie.
- 13-amp plug and a screwdriver.
- What? I need a 13-amp plug and a screwdriver.
The plug's been whipped off the defib in the crash room.
- Really? - Really, so let's move it.
- Life and death situation? - No, more of Be prepared, like the Girl Guides, eh? - That's a George VI coronation toffee tin.
- Yes, mine.
- Bit of a rarity.
- Oh, my God.
I can fix it, Charlie.
- Excuse me.
- Prickly bloke, is he? - Did you want this? - Yes, but Oh, my God.
Doc, we found this old girl down by the dock.
She's in a pretty bad way.
- Looks like hypothermia.
- That's what we thought.
Duffy, get a space blanket on her.
I'll be back in a minute.
- Could you bring her round the corner? - ( Reggae music) 'Scuse me.
You're ErroI's mates, aren't you? - Yeah.
- I'm his brother.
- So what exactly happened to him? - He was at a party and he fell over.
- You sure somebody didn't hit him? - Look, I dunno.
I wasn't there.
Helps us to help him if we know exactly what happened to him.
- He's had a bit to drink, hasn't he? - A bit.
Dope? Was he doing any other drugs? - It's important.
- (Sighs) - Need a hand, Doctor? - No, thanks.
You don't look like you're being cooperative.
- It's all right.
- No, no.
What's your hurry? Now, let's be sensible, eh? Answer the doctor's questions in a proper manner.
I haven't done anything so why are you hassling me? No one's hassling you.
A little cooperation's what we're looking for.
Oh, yeah? What can you do, eh, Doc? They're their own worst enemy half the time.
- Nurse.
- Sorry? Charge Nurse.
I know the police force is short-handed but I thought they still insisted on reading as a basic skill.
D'you see that? I was only trying to give him a hand.
Bit of an unpleasant bloke, that charge nurse.
- Chip on his shoulder.
- Yeah? - Well, you know why.
- Why? Male nurse.
Half of them are poofs.
Well-known fact.
Oh.
You a nurse, then? Me? No, press.
I'm down here doing a story.
Ain't much happening down here, though.
Is that tandoori down the road any good? Kuba.
- What is it? - Fractured spine, head injuries, - internal bleeding.
- I want a word.
- Of course.
What can I do for you? - You know, toerag.
- Move it.
- (Andrew) Lost a lot of blood now.
He's arrested.
Crash team are working on him.
- Ewart's ringing round for more hands.
- OK, crash room for this one.
- Leg, open fracture, tib and fib.
- Right.
Get him off to a cubicle.
- (John) Ah.
- Straight through, mate.
- We're looking after your friend.
- Thanks.
- Consciousness deteriorating.
- (Woman moans) She looks cyanosed.
- Oh, not nice.
- No.
- (Andrew) Come on, love.
- Poor air entry.
- Full blood count, Us and Es, glucose.
- (Andrew) Come on, nice and deep.
- And lets have six units cross-matched.
- X-rays? - Yeah.
Skull, cervical spine and chest.
- (Woman moaning) - Duffy, get the radiographer.
- OK.
- (Charlie whistles) - Come on.
- And I want to intubate her.
- Come on.
It's gonna be difficult.
That head must stay absolutely still.
- Do you want the anaesthetist to do it? - What do you reckon, would you rather die, waiting for the anaesthetist - or take a chance on me? - She'll take a chance on you.
(Andrew) Come on, love.
- I'm warning you, Kuba.
- Clive, it is for your own good.
Man, I'm tired of you.
Extreme situations require drastic measures.
OK.
But remember this.
You mess around with my stuff one more time, - it's gonna be you on this trolley.
- 'Scuse me.
(Andrew) All right? - How is she, Doc? - So far, so good.
Have you intubated one of these before? - No.
- I'm impressed.
What have we got? Extensive damage to the left foot and left leg.
- Let's hope she's not a dancer.
- Where the hell is Thalton? Never get a surgeon when you need one.
- That'll be fine in a couple of days.
- (Man crying) There's a cup of tea there.
Excuse me.
- Oh.
- There, there.
Come on, don't worry.
Don't fret.
I'll get you something for the pain in a minute, OK? I couldn't do nothing.
I couldn't stop in time.
Don't worry.
Don't worry.
I expect you think I'm really soft.
Soft? Do you know, I've seen more men crying in here than women.
- Oh, yeah.
- That's true.
I do.
It's no bad thing, either.
You see, what happens is, it lets all the little demons out and then they drown in the tears.
Now, I bet you didn't know that, did you? Not many people do, you see.
- That's a medical fact.
- (Laughs) Ah, Hopper, nice of you to join us.
Sorry, sir, I only just heard you were down here.
Bush telegraph, Charlie.
Only thing around here that works.
Well, come and have a look, Hopper.
After all, you are supposed to be a doctor, not a student nurse.
- Well? What do you think? - Pretty bad, sir.
It'll be theatre four but Mr.
Fortescue's at the opera, they can't raise him.
It's a terrible thing, Hopper, if your bleeper goes off at the opera.
- That ever happen to you, Baz? - Not lately.
I was at Covent Garden once, Don Giovanni was in full flight, towards the end of the first act.
Finch'han del vino Calda la testa You probably know the passage.
And I was bleeped.
An emergency tracheotomy.
I ask you.
Some wretched houseman had got himself in a total panic.
- What happened, sir? - I couldn't find a taxi.
When I got there, the patient had choked to death.
Come to cast a fatherly eye over proceedings? Just to say we finally got an anaesthetist for you.
Good.
Don't look so glum, Hopper.
Looks like I get to be Mr.
Fortescue and you get to be me.
I've never assisted on anything this serious, sir.
If we succeed in sorting out this woman's brain from skull fragments, - we may not be doing her any favours.
- Very nasty.
Yes.
Right, let's get weaving.
Give us a couple of minutes, Charlie, then bring her up.
- Right, Mr.
Thalton.
- One of these days, I'm gonna Baz, Baz, Mr.
Thalton is a very fine surgeon.
Shining example to us all, I'd say.
Well let's hope his charms work for this woman.
- (Steady tone) - Oh, no.
(Ewart) Call crash team.
- Defib? - Yeah.
Set at 200 joules to start with.
- Thank you.
- (Charlie) Right.
Clear.
- How you doing, son? - Terrific.
Don't worry.
They'll soon have you fixed up good as new.
Make way for the cavalry.
What have we got here, then? RTA, serious head injury, arrested several minutes ago.
- About five.
- She was about to go to theatre.
- Mr.
Thalton's seen her head injury.
- Poor Rupert.
He will be disappointed.
- (Rhythmic bleep) - I've given adrenalin and calcium.
No output in the femoral artery.
(Woman over radio ) Cardiac arrest, casuaIty department.
Pupils dilated and sluggish.
This one's the fifth tonight.
Must be the weather.
That girl, Andy, in the car.
Dunno, mate.
They haven't said nothing.
I don't like to ask.
- The bloke, he'd definitely had it.
- Yeah.
It was my fault.
There's one, maybe two people dead and that's down to me.
You can't say that, John.
An accident's an accident.
- Their number come up, that's all.
- We know different, don't we? What are you gonna do, confess to the Old Bill? You lose your licence and your job.
- Where's the sense in that? - I reckon the job's gone.
- All the more reason to keep shtoom.
- I just feel so Don't think about it, John.
The Bill ask questions, tell 'em nothing.
Crash, bang, wallop, you don't know what happened.
- It's not right, though, is it? - Right? What is right in this bleeding world? You've gotta think about Carol and the kids.
No licence, no job.
Now, I was on the dole for two years.
I know what I'm talking about.
- Has she got anyone here? - Husband was driving.
He's dead.
Police have located her parents, though, we think.
Well, Baz.
We should stop, shouldn't we? We should consider proper allocation of medical resources.
I always think, if it was somebody you loved, how long would you go on for? Trying to make them live and then letting them go, there's no scientific line you can draw when it comes down to it.
No.
Mm.
I suspected as much.
How long ago did she arrest? - An hour, nearly that.
- But fear not, the ladies are on the job.
You always try so hard to be gallant, don't you? You always fail so miserably.
Ha.
You're always such a wag, Clare.
- What about relatives? - Parents are on their way.
I don't suppose she has a donor card on her, has she? Well, we must always consider these things.
A young woman, torso relatively undamaged, the kidneys, the heart.
We don't get this kind of opportunity often.
- We are aware of that, Rupert.
- (Thalton) Charlie, would you? The pressure on kidney machines is terrible.
I don't know how the renal unit manages.
Particularly since its budget was cut to allow for more transplants.
There is a donor card.
- Well, chaps, what d'you think? - (Quietly) Stop.
Well, Baz, your patient in the first instance.
Well, it's quite clear.
There's nothing more to be done.
Right.
Carry on ventilating.
I want two nurses to keep massaging the heart.
Theatre four is ready, so I shall remove the organs myself.
Don't feel badly, Baz.
Your dedication is admirable and it doesn't go unnoticed by me or Dr Wainwright, but cases such as this are difficult.
Excuse me, Mr.
Thalton, I've got a lot of patients to see.
This, Mr.
Fairhead, is the ladies', not to mention women's, loo.
Really? I've been coming in here for years.
Nobody's ever mentioned that before.
I've never been able to work out if I'm supposed to have a triangular-shaped backside.
- You all right? - No.
Are you? I'll live.
(Bad American accent) Pick a card, any card.
Urh.
- It's just down there.
- Thanks.
Sorry to be a bother.
- You're not a bother.
- That's Lindsey.
- N-No, I don't think it is.
- Can I see her? - It's another patient, Mrs.
Brown.
- Her hair's the same colour.
I'm sure that's Lindsey.
I-I wouldn't have got in the way.
- I just wanted to see her.
- I know.
Look, go and wash your face, Mrs.
Brown.
Make you feel a lot better, eh? Come on.
(Clive) Last ten minutes he's been drifting like this.
- Seems restless too.
- Mm.
- Blood pressure? - Still increasing.
That's slower.
(Clive) Reckon it's definitely an extradural? Yeah.
So we're gonna have to put a bore hole in the skull and drain the haemorrhage right now.
- .
.
with you by 10:30.
- Mr.
Thalton, can I have a word? A verse, indeed, even a whole chapter, especially if Mr.
Fairhead will excuse us? Oh, don't mind me.
I'll just watch and learn.
I'd like you to look at the boy in cubicle one again.
I really think it's an extradural haematoma.
I think you should consider taking him to theatre now before the organs for transplant.
- You're sold on an extradural? - Come and see for yourself.
Not necessary.
Get the boy straight up to theatre, Charlie.
- Thank you, sir.
- I wish you could see your way, one of these days, to calling me Rupert instead of sir? I have far too much respect for you, Mr.
Thalton.
You will excuse me, won't you? - .
.
straight away.
- Life must have been simpler, Charlie, when the only women to become doctors were complete blue stockings.
Before my time, Rupert.
- Do you want some sugar? - No, thank you.
- Please don't get up.
- This is Dr Samuels, Mr.
and Mrs.
Brown.
Please sit down, both of you.
- I saw her.
- In the corridor.
Have they taken her for an operation? - Er, no.
- Cos, as I was telling the nurse here, she's pregnant.
I thought you should know that.
- Only just.
- Ten weeks.
They, they told us about Derek.
Dead on arrival, that's what they call it, innit? Yes.
Look, I'm afraid I have some extremely bad news for you.
Your daughter is dead too.
But, erm, I just saw her.
She had extensive head injuries, Mrs.
Brown.
We tried but there was nothing we could do for her.
Er, how how did she actually go? Her heart stopped.
She was in a coma from the time of the accident.
I don't think she suffered.
They weren't married, you know? - Vi.
- They weren't.
Living together.
It's the modern way, isn't it? - And he got her pregnant.
- You can't just blame Derek.
He was driving the car, wasn't he? I don't know if you know but your daughter carried an organ donor's card.
- Did she ever mention it to you? - No.
Yes.
Well, I have to ask you if you'll consent to the removal and use of her organs to save someone else's life? Would have been funny, having a grandchild.
Wonder if it was a boy or a girl.
Suppose it's too soon to tell.
And in Septem No, November 1619, Descartes had his dream, a-a vision, Susie.
- He was just 23 years old.
- Really? - Yes.
- I'll be 23 next birthday.
- Do you think I'll start having visions? - He was an amazing man, Susie.
- It amazes me.
- Cogito, ergo sum.
- Cogito - (Bleeping) - 'Scuse me.
- Anything for me? Yeah.
You'll never guess what he's up to now.
Who, Kuba? - Yeah.
- Go on, surprise me.
He reckons he's gonna be on Mastermind.
(Laughs) What? What does he know about anything? Right, Mrs.
Bird? (Horner burps) What's happening? (Megan) Mr.
Morris? Hello, Mrs.
Farmer.
How are you feeling? Ooh, the same, I suppose.
I'm sorry we've kept you hanging about for so long.
We've been having a hectic time.
There was an accident on the motorway.
- Oh, dear.
- Yes.
Two dead.
Not very pleasant.
Makes me feel a fraud, taking up your time.
But it was the police that brought me here.
Yes, I know.
Well, we've got to get you sorted out, haven't we? Yes.
I suppose that's what I am.
- A problem to be sorted out.
- Oh, I think you're a lot more than that.
Not really.
Not any more.
You were their teacher, weren't you? Yes.
I was persuaded to take early retirement.
They needed the jobs for the younger ones, the ones with families, children.
So, you don't have family? I've been divorced nearly ten years now.
I just married the wrong man.
Well, a lot of people do that, don't they? Most important thing for him was his work.
Could never really concentrate for any length of time on just me and what I was doing.
I suppose I just wasn't interesting enough for him.
He's married again, though.
Colleague from work.
They've two kiddies now.
Seems daft, a 60-year-old man with two tiny children running round after him.
You never had any of your own? No.
But I never minded.
Had enough of them at school.
I think he minded, though.
So now you live alone? No.
Who do you live with now? You have to decide whether I'm off my head, don't you? Should you call a psychiatrist and have me put away? I don't think you're off your head, Mrs.
Farmer.
A bit depressed, maybe.
You don't know what I've done, though, do you? Perhaps you'd better tell me.
I left him to die.
- Who? - My father.
He used to be such a laugh when we were kids.
Mrs.
Farmer, let's make sure I'm understanding you correctly.
I didn't murder him, if that's what you mean.
I did consider just putting a pillow over his face but I'm too cowardly for that.
It would be hard to do that to somebody you love.
What did you do? I just left.
Two, maybe three days ago.
He's 84, bedridden.
And I've been caring for him for three years now, since his last stroke.
And it's a 24-hour job.
He didn't want to live.
I know he didn't.
I came here then, you know, when he collapsed.
You were all very good and very efficient and you saved his life and you sent him home to me.
So you see, you'd better call the psychiatrist.
Mrs.
Farmer, I think you'd better give me your address.
Mm.
You only have to say the word and I could put the wheels in motion.
- I like it here.
- What, on the night shift? A girl like you shouldn't spend her time surrounded by sick people.
I mean, how were we supposed to know she completely dropped off her trolley? That's not very accurate, is it? Chronically depressed woman is left alone to look after a bedridden father? Huh.
Desperation is its own demon.
If you ask me, she's just nuts.
That's a very harsh judgment, Duffy.
Anyway, who's that fellow I saw you with at the bus stop? New boyfriend? You and Charlie are like a pair of old crones.
Hold the front page, Duffy's been seen with a man.
I wouldn't call him a man, exactly, but a nice-looking fellow, though.
I'll have an egg burger with onions, two sausages, chips and beans, please.
It is five o'clock in the morning.
I need something substantial to see me through to breakfast.
I give up.
Marvellous, isn't it? We can deal with the heart attacks and broken limbs.
That's our trade.
She's the biggest casualty by far.
- What did the police say? - Oh, the old man was dead.
Stiff as a board.
- So what happens to her now? - (Sighs) I don't know.
Assessment, therapy.
But she's not mad.
Just at the end of her tether.
And you know what? All the time I was talking to her, I was thinking about Ros.
She could talk about me the way that woman talked about her husband.
(Sighs) 20 years of marriage.
What am I going to do, Charlie? Not my specialist topic, old son.
You must have had your moments.
Can't tell a lie.
One or two.
I dunno what happened with me and Ros.
Well, I do.
The job, problems with the daughter, separate lives.
Now I'm just left with the job.
Confusion to the enemy.
Just confusion.
(Both) Cold tea? (Woman on TV) Here we have some members of the Open University phiIosophy course team out for a summer picnic.
- It's a loveIy day and they've chosen - Psst.
Psst.
Psst.
- (Laughs) - That tree is very old.
That branch he's settled under doesn't look at all safe.
(Door closes) Ooh, sorry.
Is there any more tea left? If I drink too much coffee, it gives me a headache.
I know where I could lay my hands on some cold tea.
No, thanks.
You know, when I was a kid, I used to have this fantasy that I'd grow up into this tough, granite-jawed doctor and I'd stride around the hospital being tough and granite-jawed and all these incredibly beautiful, totally desirable nurses chase after me.
Whenever I encountered one on the wards or in a corridor they'd just stop and look at me, very much the way you're looking at me right now.
Charlie, you've gotta do something.
That reporter has just puked all over my desk, all over the record cards, everywhere.
Right.
That's it.
That's your last chance.
I am now definitely an atheist.
- I don't care, just get him off my desk.
- I can't help it.
Come on.
- Oh, my God.
- I think I've been poisoned.
- (Charlie) Feeling off-colour? - Something I ate.
(Susie) Drunk, more like.
(Charlie) Don't worry.
- All aboard.
- Get him on the trolley.
- Decontamination, quick as you can.
- (Horner) Decontamination? - (Charlie) All right, my son, we'll soon - (Phone) (Groans) Oh.