SHARON RACE

performer Writer Speaker producer

"Multi talented." Newcastle Journal “Awesome”– Frog & Bucket "Fantastic host... Kept the night flowing" - Laughing Cows

  • One Geordie, the Big Break & a Pantomime - Part 2

    So many of the people waiting to be seen in A&E made me play a game – Guess The Emergency. The man who constantly walked up and down the waiting area, always returning to the reception desk and lying on it as if it were the chopping block and he was awaiting the axeman. He clearly thought that if he 'bigged' up his symptoms, then he'd been seen sooner. Well no, there's a queue, pal.

    After he'd lain across the reception desk several times, the staff, who up until this point had totally ignored him, began to politely shoo him away back to sit and wait his turn to be seen. I silently cheered them, as did the middle class, middle aged couple who sat in front of me. Especially as the wife had continously turned and looked at her husband with a look of disgust I'd not seen since a changing of my baby nephew's nappy.

    The leaning man then decided, as his former ploy hadn't worked, he would make himself sick. So kept clearing his throat in a fashion equal to Tom Hanks in any given film and sticking his fingers down his throat. The middle class wife was further disgusted as her and her husband looked at one another and back at the man with pure hatred. I knew my face replicated their's as I glanced around the waiting room. No on else seemed remotely interested. They noticed me and nodded. We smiled at each other in camaraderie.

    "He won't get seen any quicker," said the wife. She was right. He wouldn't.

    “If you're going to be sick, you have to go the toilets,” a senior nurse intervened. “You canot stand here and do that.” Again, I cheered, though less silently, especially as I now had the middle class couple on my side.

    The leaner disappeared whilst making more noise than when BP drill for oli.

    Another man was sat near the entrance doors in a wheelchair naked.

    Well, in his underpants.

    Passed out.

    I could only surmise he was completely, utterly pissed, especailly as he had a bag of clothes sat on his knee tied up tight in a hospital waste bag. A yellow hospital waste bag, which usually indicates highly infectious human or animal waste requiring disposal by incineration...

    I was hoping he's only vommed on himself and the yellow bag was all the nurses had to hand. Plus, the bag would stop the smell of puke filling the waiting room.

    Three police officers brought in and checked in a man and all took a seat. Three police officers for one sick man? His emergency wasn't as transparent. Turned out, as they were sat two seats away from me, that the man had been out drinking and taken some”unknown substance”. Kicked off, been taken into custody and then told them of the “unknown substance” so they rushed him to A&E. With three officers when he was as quiet as a lamb? Good waste of resource as the officers sat gossiping about what they'd gotten off of their Nana for Christmas as the man sobered up.

    They reassured him he'd wait “About forty five minutes to be seen and with a Doctor. Not long to go now." Good luck with that.

    A woman lay across several seats in a bright pink onesie with a carboard kidney dish on her stomach, heaving and groaning worthy of a RSC production. I'd prefer not to have been sat there, for obvious reasons, especially if many of these had communicacle viruses. I certainly didn't want to catch the vomming bug too!

    Surprisingly the time went over fairly quickly - the painkillers had kicked in, so I was feeling fine, bar my ankle swelling up like a balloon.

    The non-barring of using your mobile and 3G was a boon. So replying to the girls as they messaged me in the interval was a plus. Thankfully they didn't give me a scene by scene run down of what I was missing. Bless them.

    Though, thanks to the entertainment going on around me it felt like I hadn't missed the pantomime at all!

    On the two hour mark, my Mum and sister-in-law swept into the A&E reception. Charging past the Bruce Willis-wannabe, the overweight women in hot pants and flip flops and naked, inebriated man.

    They were so efficient in their haste, dress sense, scan of the room and loudness on spotting me - “She's there!” - that they reminded me of Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey in True Detective. Only with better hair...

    After a lengthy explanation as to what had happened; how they had driven down and been able to park up outside A&E – though the parking meter was broken, so score! – and a quick call for me to see a nurse so she could check my blood pressure, heart rate and pain level (A five, I told her, but only because I'd had the painkillers) it was nearing 10pm. So sis-in-law made an escape and Mum and I waited a little while until the third hour of being in A&E struck and I was called in. The triage nurse's forecast of the wait being three to four hours was correct. Who was she, Mystic Meg?

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