an English manor house than a medical facility. Everything was immaculate. Edward conceded that on appearance it was unlikely that Beechfield Hospital did indeed make mistakes.
The car slowed to a standstill outside the main entrance. The driver held open the car doors for his two passengers and led them up the wide steps into the hospital. Once inside he nodded to Edward and returned to his car. A middle aged woman, sat behind a reception desk inside the grand atrium, directed them down the hallway on her left.
Edward noticed that the ornateness of the building deteriorated the further they walked from the atrium; the elaborate lighting became functional and accessories like cornicing vanished entirely. They passed through a set of double doors into another corridor. As the doors swung shut behind them Edward was shocked by the contrast with the previous corridor; the serenity had been replaced by commotion. The corridor was littered with chairs sporadically placed against both walls, nearly all of them occupied. They walked towards a table at the far end, passing arguing couples waving their arms around in anger and individuals sobbing into their hands.
At the table a young man in a white coat, peculiarly calm for the environment, suggested they take a seat, adding that they would be seen in turn. As Edward sat down, the gentleman he was with explained he would locate the consultant and return shortly. Edward nodded his head in agreement and watched him disappear through one of the doors they had passed further down the corridor.
Edward studied the people around him. He hadn’t been to many hospitals so his experiences were limited, but he was certain this commotion was irregular. In both directions people were shrieking or crying, others were pacing up and down and one man was repeatedly knocking his head against the wall. Edward felt conspicuous at being the only visitor who appeared calm. The young man remained at his table and appeared to be reading a report though after many minutes Edward noticed that he hadn’t turned the page once.
After a while, Edward became aware that no-one else had entered the corridor and nobody had left. Nothing appeared to be happening. Edward strode over to the table, and waited politely for the man’s attention. Eventually he looked up. ‘Ah, yes, you were here earlier. Please take a seat and wait; we’ll be with you shortly.’
Edward looked at his watch, surprised by the time. ‘I’ve been waiting for over thirty minutes already. I’ve changed my mind and I’d like to leave, please can you arrange transportation. I shouldn’t be here, this is a mistake.’
‘I assure you Beechfield Hospital doesn’t make mistakes. May I take your name and date of birth?’
‘Edward Henry Newman. 13th May, 1960.’
The man scanned a piece of paper on his desk, indicating to Edward that his name was indeed on the list. ‘Mr Newman, there’s no mistake. You’re here for your operation. You need to rest so please take a seat and we’ll be with you shortly.’
‘No, this is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come. Now please arrange transportation for me. I would like to leave.’
‘Mr Newman, I can understand, this corridor is too chaotic. Why don’t you wait in that room over there and I’ll sort this out for you? We’ll get to the bottom of this in no time.’
Edward followed the man’s gaze to a door a few yards away. He considered protesting that he didn’t want to wait, that he wanted to leave this instant, but he welcomed an escape from this claustrophobic corridor. The commotion was stifling and made him nauseous. Edward thanked the man and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.
The room was sparse and faintly lit. And decidedly quiet. There was an identical door on the opposite wall with a desk and a single chair in the middle. Laying along the wall on his right was a medical bed. The only lights in the room were a desk light and two small uplit lights above the doors. Edward walked towards the desk and sat on the chair. The desk was barren except for a file placed under the spotlight.
Edward waited, patiently. He placed his hand on the file, curious as to its contents, but decided however bored and irritated he was it would be inappropriate to meddle. He waited. And he waited. He checked his watch, surprised again how much time had passed.
He was about to reach out his hand and grab the file when the door opposite swung open and a woman in a long white coat strode in. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Newman. Thank you for your patience. I understand you haven’t yet had your pre-op procedures.’ She reached the table and stopped in front of it.
‘That’s right. But it’s fine. I’m leaving. I’m not having an operation. This is a mistake.’
The woman stared solemnly at Edward, pushing her glasses higher up her nose. ‘I’d like to reassure you that Beechfield Hospital does not make mistakes. You can expect to receive the highest level of care at this facility.’
‘So I’ve been told. Are you the consultant? I want this mistake cleared up. Now.’
The woman reached out and slid the file across the desk, opening it in front of her. ‘Let’s see. Can you confirm your full name and date of birth please.’
‘Edward Henry Newman. 13th May, 1960.’
‘There’s no mistake. That’s what it says here.’
Edward rose quickly and thumped his hands down on the desk. ‘Listen to me. This is a mistake. I should not be here. I don’t know why I’m here. I want to leave.’
‘Mr Newman, you’re making me anxious. Please sit down or I’ll be forced to alert security.’ Edward saw her hand reach into her pocket.
He slumped into the chair, begged her, ‘Please, this is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I want to leave.’
‘Mr Newman, this frustration is common amongst patients. Your consultant will be here shortly and we’ll get this cleared up in no time.’ She open a large drawer under the table, pulled out a leather bag, identical to the one he’d seen earlier in the evening, and placed it onto the desk. ‘Looking at your records it appears that you haven’t had a health check recently. For a person of your age it’s recommended to have one every five years. Why don’t we make the most of this waiting time and do a few quick checks before your consultant arrives.’
‘This is ridiculous. I don’t need a health check. I want to go.’
‘It’s not ridiculous, Mr Newman. I had this test only last week. I found the results very reassuring.’ She smiled warmly.
Edward mulled it over. He didn’t disagree with her. He appreciated the importance of these tests and he was aware that he had missed several appointments as they had coincided with his school’s government inspections. His Principle had insisted those take priority. On balance he conceded that health checks were of value, so he agreed and permitted her to continue.
The woman praised his decision, opened the leather bag and pulled out a few implements that Edward recognised, a blood pressure monitor, a stethoscope and an ear thermometer, and some that he didn’t. Over the next few minutes she ran through a series of tests, speaking only to instruct him and then writing down notes in the file. Once finished she put the implements back into the bag and returned it into the drawer.
‘Thank you for your co-operation, Mr Newman. I’ll just go and see what’s keeping the consultant.’
‘How did I do? What were the results?’ asked Edward.
‘Entirely as expected. Please excuse me, I won’t be long.’ The woman picked up the file, turned and went back through the door.
Edward sat in the chair and looked around the room. There was nothing to do whilst he waited. He checked his watch. It was very late, or more appropriately very early. He waited.
The door opposite opened once more and a bearded older man in a white coat entered and remained in the doorway, keeping the door open with his hand. Under the other arm he was carrying a clipboard. He studied Edward in silence, then the room, before carefully closing the door. He walked slowly towards the table, running the fingers of one hand through his white beard, and stopped a few feet short of the desk.
‘Mr Newman, you’re sat in my seat. May I?’
&nbs
p; ‘Pardon me? Are you my consultant? Has transportation been arranged? Can I go?’
‘Mr Newman, you’re in my seat. Once you’ve returned it then we can discuss these questions.’
Edward glowered at the man. ‘I didn’t take the seat. It was here on this side of the table when I came in. This is nonsense. I’ve had enough. This is a mistake. I demand to leave.’
‘Mr Newman. My seat, if you’d be so kind.’
Edward jumped to his feet in a rage, grabbed the seat with both hands and threw it at the wall with all his strength. The seat shattered, bits of wood splintering and breaking. ‘There’s your seat,’ Edward shouted, ‘now get me out of here. Now!’
The man slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and studied Edward. He showed no expression as his fingers traced through his beard.
‘Did you hear me? Get me out of here. Now!’ Edward demanded, unsettled by the man’s indifference.
‘I hear you, Mr Newman. I came to tell you we were ready for you. I have good news: the pre-op results are as expected. We can continue with the operation.’
Edward was unable to control his rage. He thumped the table with both hands and shouted, ‘This is ridiculous, a mistake. I’m not having an operation. There’s nothing wrong with me. Take me home.’ He noticed the man fidgeting with something in his pocket. ‘Don’t call security. Don’t. Just get me home. I’ve had enough.’
The man placed the clipboard on the table, leaving his other hand deep in his pocket. He said impassively, ’It’s your decision as to whether I call security, Mr Newman, I can only react to your behaviour. You seem agitated. I suggest you calm down. Now, regarding this so-called mistake, Beechfield Hospital is very meticulous, we’re not in the habit of making mistakes. Please can you confirm your full name and date of birth.’
‘For heaven’s sake, I’ve said this so many times.’ Edward punched each word. ‘I’m Edward Henry Newman. 13th May, 1960. Now please, please take me home.’
The man tapped the clipboard. ‘Mr Newman, my records suggest there is no mistake. Nonetheless, you are distressed.’ He looked at the chair. ‘And you are clearly violent. I wish to resolve this situation but I am concerned that you may harm yourself, or that you may harm others. Do you understand?’
Edward took a deep breath to compose himself. He wanted to leave, but he had to calm down. ‘Yes, I understand. I am distressed, as you said. I apologise for my behaviour. I simply wish to go.’
The man stared at Edward for a few seconds. ‘My predicament is that I need to locate your consultant but I do not wish to leave you alone whilst you are this agitated. You are a danger to yourself.’ He pulled his hand out of his pocket and placed a small tin on the table. ‘I have here a sedative. Nothing exceptional, just an over-the-counter sedative that will calm you. That is all it will do, it will calm you. May I suggest, Mr Newman, you take one of these to calm your nerves.’
Edward stared at the tin. He was clearly anxious, the man was right. He’d had sedatives before during his marriage breakdown and had found them soothing. He was currently so tense he was finding it difficult to be rational. And being rational he decided was key to getting out of this situation. He agreed that the sedatives were worthwhile and that he would accept one. The man opened the tin and passed him a single pill. He watched as Edward swallowed it, closing the tin once consumed.
‘If you’ll excuse me, Mr Newman. I’ll find your consultant and clear up this mess. I suggest you sit on the bed and compose yourself. I’ll be back shortly. Please try not to break anything else, our budget is not limitless.’
He walked out, closing the door carefully behind him. Edward looked at the bed. He wanted to sit, he was tired and exhausted, mentally and physically. The remains of the chair taunted him from the floor. There was only the table and the bed left in the room. Edward walked to the bed and sat on the edge. It was hard as he had expected, but certainly more comfortable that the table would be.
The sedative was taking effect and he could feel his anxiety decreasing. He remembered a breathing technique and laid on the bed, hands crossed over his chest and took deep breaths. His breathing soon deepened as he focused on feeling his hands rise and fall. His pulse relaxed and he closed his eyes, feeling the calm sooth through his body. The consultant will be here soon he thought and he must be calm and composed for him. They’ll arrange transportation and he would be home shortly. He felt relaxed. And unintentionally drowsed asleep.
He woke to something being placed over his mouth and nose and then strapped behind his ears.
‘I can confirm the pre-op checks were as expected and he’s been sedated.’ He opened his eyes and saw the man with the beard speaking.
Edward tried to protest but the gas pumping through the mask was already numbing his body and mind. As Edward started to lose consciousness the gentleman he’d met earlier at his apartment came and stood over him. ‘Mr Newman, we are prepared for your operation. We don’t make mistakes at Beechfield Hospital. One final check doctor, please can you confirm the patient’s full name and date of birth?’
###
From the author:
Thank you for reading this story, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review or contact me as I’d love to hear your feedback. This story came to me when I was at the bedside of my girlfriend who had just had a hip replacement only hours earlier. She explained she hadn’t been nervous before the operation as the doctor had come ‘out of the blue’ and told her they were ready for her. It was hours before she was expecting the operation to take place so she hadn’t had time for the anxiety to build! I’m sure the story is influenced by Dino Buzzati Traverso’s ‘Seven Floors’ or Franz Kafka’s ‘The Trial’, both of which I’d read a decade before, and are highly recommended. If you enjoyed this story, please try my others. And for those who are interested, the new hip is doing great!
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