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It had been a remarkably quiet morning on AAU. Neither of the clinical leads was foolish enough to remark upon it however. Bernie Wolfe had the superstitious nature of many an ex-soldier and Serena Campbell had experienced one too many unwary nurse or junior doctor utter the fateful words. They were both keeping their heads down and taking the opportunity to catch up on some much needed admin.
“How many unread emails do you have left now Bernie?” asked Serena, slightly smug with the knowledge that her own inbox was completely devoid of unread mail.
“Erm, well let’s just say it no longer says 99+ unread, and leave it at that, shall we?” Bernie threw back across the desk.
Serena smiled fondly across at the messy head, bent over a folder, scratching away at some previously neglected paperwork. Bernie was an absolutely amazing surgeon, but the bureaucracy of the NHS was still something of a weak spot for the former RAMC medic. Serena could practically hear her wife’s ears straining, hoping the red phone would ring and allow her to escape the tedium of forms and charts.
“Good morning Auntie Serena, Auntie Bernie. It’s very quiet in here today, isn’t it?”
Serena closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before pasting a smile on her face for her nephew. “Jason. Yes, it was quiet on the ward. I suspect that may be about to change. Let’s have a little chat about superstition and the “Q word” shall we?” She stood up and lead her beloved nephew out of the office.
Bernie allowed herself a small smile once Serena had left the room. Bored to tears by nonsense emails, graphs, forms and memos, she had almost been on the verge of dropping the Q bomb herself, before Jason had done the honours. Now hopefully all she needed to do was sit back and wait for the patients to roll in. And all without arousing the wrath of her co-lead.
Lo and behold, a phone began to ring on the ward. The Q word strikes again. Not the red emergency phone admittedly, but it could still mean a non trauma patient on their way.
Lou stuck her head round the door. “Ms Wolfe, we have a patient being sent over from the ED. Erm, there’s a foreign body, needing removal.”
Bernie was intrigued. To see the usually stoic nurse looking discomfited was a rarity. It must be an interesting case on the way. “Any more details Lou? What and where would be helpful.”
“Uh, he’ll be here any minute. From what I understand, it’s probably easier if you see it for yourself Ms Wolfe.”
Bernie left the office, only just managing to resist turning and sticking two fingers up at the paperwork still strewn across her desk. She loved her work on AAU and the trauma unit but she had lately begun to fantasise about setting fire to the mountains of admin that the job generated.
Ah, here was the patient. The trolley pushed through the double doors, bearing a figure huddled on their side under the standard NHS issue blue blanket.
“Okay, who do we have here?” Bernie asked the ED staff member who had accompanied the patient.
“This is Robert Medcalf, 55 years old. Rectal foreign body. He has been given 1 gram paracetamol” The handover was delivered with complete professionalism, but Bernie could clearly see the mirth dancing in his eyes. Bernie raised an admonishing eyebrow, but couldn’t hide her own amusement.
“Thank you very much, bay three please and we’ll take it from there. Mr Medcalf, I’m Bernie Wolfe, and I’m one of the clinical leads. I’m just going to take a quick look at what we’re dealing with here, if that’s okay with you?”
Bernie was answered with a grunt which she chose to interpret as consent and lifted the blanket. Her eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline when she took in the sight that awaited her under the blue cotton material. She could feel Lou, who was peering around her, start to shake with suppressed laughter. Protruding approximately an inch from between hairy bum cheeks, was the base of what appeared to be a glass bottle.
“Mr um, Mr Medcalf, can you tell me how this came to be here, and what the contents are or were?” Bernie asked the amorphous, blanket covered lump. There was a muttered reply. “Pardon, I didn’t hear you, Mr Medcalf. Could you repeat that please?”
“Budweiser. It used to contain Budweiser.”
Bernie made a rather unnecessary notation of the fact on his chart. “And how did this happen?”
“Does it really matter? Just get it out!” Bernie could tell his reply came through gritted teeth, even though the material’s muffling effect.
“It matters, Mr Medcalf, because it would be helpful to know if there was likely to be much internal damage. For example, if you fell on the bottle, there is more risk of the glass being cracked. There is also more likelihood that you will already have suffered tearing.”
The blanket was lowered and a red face emerged. The face reminded Bernie of something she couldn’t immediately bring to mind. It would come to her though, sooner or later. She felt Lou’s hand clutch her arm.
“I was playing around, okay? You know. Playing .” Medcalf hissed.
Bernie forced her face to remain as blank as possible. “Playing, Mr Medcalf?”
Medcalf lowered his voice even further. “Experimenting. You know.” He twisted his face in an odd grimace, presumably attempting to wordlessly convey his reasoning behind shoving a beer bottle up his bum.
“Do you mean experimenting with anal stimulation, Mr Medcalf?” Bernie used her most even and professional tone.
“Yes.” The whispered reply was barely audible.
“Right.” Bernie cleared her throat. “I’ll phone down to the sexual health clinic to see if they have any leaflets on safer anal sex practices for you, before you leave us. I do believe there are appropriately shaped items you can purchase for any future experiments, Mr Medcalf. I’m sure you don’t want a repeat of this.”
Medcalf said nothing, just retreated back under the blanket.
“Do we have x-rays yet, Lou?” Bernie turned to the nurse.
“Uh, Ms Wolfe, if I can just show you something over here?” Lou replied, rolling her eyes and wiggling her eyebrows furiously. Bernie allowed herself to be pulled over to the nurse’s station. “That’s Robbie, Ms Wolfe. Ms Campbell’s ex boyfriend.” Lou urgently half-whispered. “I didn’t know the surname, but as soon as I saw his face…”
“It’s okay Lou, you can stop worrying, I recognised him myself once I saw the face. Jason showed me a picture once. Do we have his x-rays?”
“We’re waiting for them to come through.”
“Righto, if there’s no free air, we’ll just take him to theatre and yank it out. We have to drill a hole in the bottom first of course. To allow air in and release the vacuum. In the bottom of the bottle that is.” Bernie clarified, with a wicked twinkle in her eye. Lou stifled a laugh, then quickly sobered up.
“Who’s going to tell Ms Campbell he’s here?”
“I will Lou, don’t worry.” Glancing across at the office, she could see her wife was back at her desk.
Bernie entered the office, and closed the door behind her.
“Serena.”
“I see the Q word did it’s almost inevitable job. You have a patient.”
“Ah, yes. Do you remember Dickie and his tap?”
“How could I forget? Don’t tell me he’s back again?” Serena asked, shocked.
“No, no it’s not plumber wannabe Dickie. It is a similar situation though. The thing is… The thing is Serena, it’s someone you know. It’s Robbie the Bobby. Oh. It’s just come to me.”
Serena was confused. “What are you talking about?”
“When I saw him, before I realised who it was, I knew he reminded me of something and I’ve just realised what. Remember when I did the shopping last week and sent Jason into a minor meltdown when I went ‘off piste’ as you so delicately termed it?”
“Yes. You didn’t buy Estima.”
“No, instead of buying Estima potatoes, I bought Roosters because I thought they looked jolly. That’s what Robbie the Bobby looks like - a red faced potato! You nearly moved in with a potato. Thank goodness you raised your standards.” Bernie shot a sly look at Serena.
“Never mind that now Bernie. You’re telling me that Sergeant Robbie Medcalf is lying out there, in our ward, with something wedged up his backside?” She stood, and peered through the blinds.
“Yes Serena” Bernie couldn’t quite get a read on her co-lead’s face.
“What is it? What are we dealing with?”
“It’s a classic. Beer bottle. Budweiser to be more precise.” Bernie could feel her mouth twitching, in an effort to keep the mirth at bay.
“Do… Do you think someone shouted ‘bottoms up!’ and he got confused?” She exclaimed, before bursting into laughter. Bernie flung her arms round Serena and buried her face in her wife’s neck to muffle her howls of laughter.
“I’ll arm wrestle you for it!” Serena offered, once they had calmed down.
“You’re having a laugh! You really want to arm wrestle again to see who does the op?”
“Oh no darling. I want to arm wrestle to see who doesn’t have to do it!” They dissolved in to giggles once again.
“There is a far simpler solution, my love.” Bernie offered. “We are the bosses, remember?”
They looked at each other and exclaimed in unison:
“Raf!”