*Details have been altered to preserve patient confidentiality
There was an elderly gentleman who sat across from me when I was reviewing a patient's notes. He sat on a chair in the hallway, a couple of steps away from the front door of his side room. He kept escaping the confines of his room, despite encouragements from nurses to be comfortable in his room.
"Can you help me get out?" he said.
"Sorry?"
"Can you help me get out of here?"
"Where would you like to go, sir?"
"Emm.. Hoddesdon."
"Oh, I am very sorry, sir. But I don't drive and I don't have a car to take you there."
"You are naughty, you are. A naughty girl. But I like your shoes."
He made me laugh. "Thank you," I said. "I like them too."
There was another elderly gentleman on another ward who when he spotted me walking down the hallway, would shout, "Princess! Princess!" I thought he was calling out to someone else, maybe a favourite nurse perhaps. But every time I looked at him he would exclaim, "Princess!" with great force and certainty whilst standing upright and waving his hand, ushering me to approach him with urgency. Maybe he had mistaken my hijab for a crown? Unfortunately I was too busy attending to other patients to indulge him in his perceptions of grandeur. But I do wonder what a conversation with him would sound like. Maybe something similar to the talk I had with the previous patient about my shoes. Adding to the many colourful experiences on a otherwise mundane weekend on-call.
No comments