Remembering the old days... Black Eyes & Baragwanath

Being in managed health care is just... not as dangerous.

For some reason, I thought of this old gem the other day...

It was a dark, stormy night. Aren't all the nights in Bara dark and stormy. Or at least dark. When the lights go out. That's another story.

Was working in Ward 20. Having seen the 1 000 00th TB patient, I got called to case where the patient was tired to a stretcher. This can only mean two things.

One, the patient is dangerous. Two, the patient is psychotic. Both aren’t preferable. And the combo package is even worse.

This particular patient had post-ictal psychosis (for the layman out there, translation: have fit, become psychotic). On trying to get close to her, the poor lady screamed like a banshee and struggled against the restraints. At one point, she managed to slip free of the bonds that held her, requiring two (big manly) doctors to hold her down. My job? Flank and approach armed with large dose of Benzo’s. Unfortunately, she got her arm free and took a nice big swing.


THWACK.

I’ve barely been in a catfight, but before I knew it – I was knocked flat back on my ass. 1 x Well connected shot to the jaw. I left. Ego and jaw bruised, and not particularly caring anymore.

On the ward round the next day, we came across the same patient, who was now lucid and no longer psychotic. She was, however, spoting a nice black eye. Eyes turned towards me. The consultant had heard about the punch.

“Did YOU do that?!” he said.

“No,” I replied. But I wish I had.

Goes to show. Always the bloody doctors who get blamed!?