Strange places in strange hours

A&E at 4 am is a surreal place.

pierot had an asthma attack last night, and so we ended up in A&E. Jez stabilised very quickly - pretty much as soon as they got him on a nebuliser - so I think we rapidly got moved down the priority list for the doctors and left to our own devices, sitting there, occasionally chatting about nonsense and listening to the chaos around us.

There was a policeman wandering around looking for a t shirt. Apparently someone had come in wearing a green t shirt which had then been taken off at some point in A&E, and he needed it for evidence. But no one had a clue where it had gone. I spent a while wondering who the Green T Shirt Man was. Was he some kind of murderer, with the blood of his victim potentially on his clothing to incriminate him? Was he a victim of assault who needed to prove contact with his attacker? The policeman seemed pretty calm and laid back about it, which made me wonder if the evidence was that important, or the crime that major, but he was still looking for it, slowly and methodically, three hours later, which made me wonder.

There was a woman who was brought in, lying on a stretcher with a towel pulled over her face. She was alive, but wouldn't take the towel away. She made a whimpering noise, and I wasn't sure if it was pain or just that she was crying. A little while later I heard hysterical crying from a couple of cubicles down and heard a woman crying "I just want to go home. I just want to leave. I want to leave" while one of the nurse's muttered to another outside our cubicle "it's a really nasty cut. The doctor opened it up, and blood just starting pouring out". I think she was talking about the crying woman, and I wondered if maybe it was self inflicted harm. Surely an accidental cut would be something you'd want looked after? But I'm not sure, and I've been wondering about what other reasons would make someone with a really bad cut want to leave A&E with such desperation.

There was one other woman as well who was being interviewed by three policemen, and loudly saying "I never..." while nursing a bruise on her face. I heard "he just hit me," once, and wondered how she got hit. Was it a random fight in a bar? Was it domestic abuse? I'm not sure.

I also got asked what ethnic group pierot was by the receptionist when he was being booked in and I was talking for him, as his breath was too short for him to talk. Apparently it's required for their forms (god knows why). I said "his father is Sri Lankan and his mother is German". She stared at me and then said "there's not a box for that. I can do Asian/White British". I said "that'll be fine." She frowned and then said "best just put Mixed: Other, coz he's not British".

I nodded understandingly. Sadly there was no box which said 'dubious foreigner' which I always think is the best description of Jeremiah.

We got home around 6.30 am, after briefly being locked in their carpark when the barrier refused to rise, despite having a valid ticket. We called for security, who didn't arrive for ten minutes. While we were waiting, the barrier just went up, apparently at random. I put my foot on the accelerator and got us the hell out of there.

I drove home through London waking up, with the traffic beginning to flow, and got home in time for a couple of hours sleep before jez had to go to work. And now I'm sitting here, almost wondering if it was all a dream...

Strange places in strange hours

A&E at 4 am is a surreal place.

pierot had an asthma attack last night, and so we ended up in A&E. Jez stabilised very quickly - pretty much as soon as they got him on a nebuliser - so I think we rapidly got moved down the priority list for the doctors and left to our own devices, sitting there, occasionally chatting about nonsense and listening to the chaos around us.

There was a policeman wandering around looking for a t shirt. Apparently someone had come in wearing a green t shirt which had then been taken off at some point in A&E, and he needed it for evidence. But no one had a clue where it had gone. I spent a while wondering who the Green T Shirt Man was. Was he some kind of murderer, with the blood of his victim potentially on his clothing to incriminate him? Was he a victim of assault who needed to prove contact with his attacker? The policeman seemed pretty calm and laid back about it, which made me wonder if the evidence was that important, or the crime that major, but he was still looking for it, slowly and methodically, three hours later, which made me wonder.

There was a woman who was brought in, lying on a stretcher with a towel pulled over her face. She was alive, but wouldn't take the towel away. She made a whimpering noise, and I wasn't sure if it was pain or just that she was crying. A little while later I heard hysterical crying from a couple of cubicles down and heard a woman crying "I just want to go home. I just want to leave. I want to leave" while one of the nurse's muttered to another outside our cubicle "it's a really nasty cut. The doctor opened it up, and blood just starting pouring out". I think she was talking about the crying woman, and I wondered if maybe it was self inflicted harm. Surely an accidental cut would be something you'd want looked after? But I'm not sure, and I've been wondering about what other reasons would make someone with a really bad cut want to leave A&E with such desperation.

There was one other woman as well who was being interviewed by three policemen, and loudly saying "I never..." while nursing a bruise on her face. I heard "he just hit me," once, and wondered how she got hit. Was it a random fight in a bar? Was it domestic abuse? I'm not sure.

I also got asked what ethnic group pierot was by the receptionist when he was being booked in and I was talking for him, as his breath was too short for him to talk. Apparently it's required for their forms (god knows why). I said "his father is Sri Lankan and his mother is German". She stared at me and then said "there's not a box for that. I can do Asian/White British". I said "that'll be fine." She frowned and then said "best just put Mixed: Other, coz he's not British".

I nodded understandingly. Sadly there was no box which said 'dubious foreigner' which I always think is the best description of Jeremiah.

We got home around 6.30 am, after briefly being locked in their carpark when the barrier refused to rise, despite having a valid ticket. We called for security, who didn't arrive for ten minutes. While we were waiting, the barrier just went up, apparently at random. I put my foot on the accelerator and got us the hell out of there.

I drove home through London waking up, with the traffic beginning to flow, and got home in time for a couple of hours sleep before jez had to go to work. And now I'm sitting here, almost wondering if it was all a dream...