Thursday 7th May 1992 Morning surgery 10.30

“Good morning! It’s Dr Declan Dennis in admissions.”
“Declan? Have I got the wrong number?”
“No, Dad. I told you! I’ve got a job. I’m on work experience. I’m the Assistant Bed Manager.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Declan!”
“I am, Dad . . . have you got a patient for us?”
“Mmm . . . well, yes . . . I wanted to send in John Whitworth.”
“What is his date of birth and his address?”
My Dad read these out to Declan
“And what is wrong with Mr Whitworth, Dad?”
“He’s got a flare up of his chronic bronchitis and emphysema, Declan. That means he has usually got a very bad chest and . . .”
“I know that, Dad and I think they call it chronic obstructive airways disease now. I have had training. Are you sending Mr Williams in by ambulance?”
“I think I am going to have to, Declan. He does not look very well at all.”
“Can you ask them to bring him straight up to Ward 7?”
“You don’t want him to go through the Emergency Department?”
“No. We’ve got a bed here for him. If he goes to the Emergency Department, he will be hanging around for ages.”
“Are you sure, Declan?”
“Yes, Dad. I’m sure.”
“Thank you very much, Declan.”

“By the way, Dad, we are sending Bob Tanner home today.”
“Very good.”
“Yes, in the end he did not have pneumonia or septicaemia. In fact, we couldn’t really find anything wrong with him.”
“I am sorry about that, Declan. Perhaps I shouldn’t have sent him in.”
“Don’t worry about that, Dad. He is a very nice man. He helps serve the tea and biscuits every afternoon. We all thought he looked ill when we first saw him, anyway. He should be back first thing in the morning. Listen, Dad, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to ring Dr Roberts back.”

The assistant bed manager.
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