Still bloody snowing!

Thanks for the comments on my previous snowy post, but it hasn't stopped yet so I have no idea whether the hex is still alive... I'll have to wait and see.

Apologies. A rather morbid post is about to follow.

I met one of the regulars this week. To be a regular somewhere is usually quite a positive thing, like a regular in a pub or a regular in a shop, but it is definitely not a good thing to be a regular in A&E. One in particular, lets call her Gemma, is well known to the department. Just looking at her list of attendances racks your brain. She was brought in with an OD of diazepam, and as I did an ECG, I couldn't help but notice her body was a mess of scars. Other than her face, she was more scar tissue than skin, her arms, legs, torso and her neck. She is catheterised from the damage she has done to her 'more sensitive' places. She jumped off a roof, breaking her lumbar spine and both ankles. If anyone who knows her was to read this, they would more than likely know who she is straight away. It was her second appearance this week, so she was kept in. She does have carers at home, but it isn't enough. She was transferred to a psychiatric ward, which at the time was voluntary, but should she decide to leave they would be well within their rights to section her. I liked talking to her, she was inquisitive. The only problem was that she seemed to know more about the hospital than I did. There was a mortality on the ward, and we have special beds with covers on to move the bodies to the mortuary. She knew exactly what it was.

'I hate seeing them death beds'

I agreed. She continued;

'I'd hate to push a dead body around!'

I told her I wouldn't mind it. I'd trade last offices for pushing around a corpse on a bed any day. Of course I didn't tell her that. One of the other nurses mentioned that we had to clean the bodies.

'Oh my god don't you get scared? Do you have nightmares? I'd hate to do that'

I hoped that she had finally come to know the reality of death, and the thought of her body being pushed around under a plastic sheet would make her realise what she was doing to herself, when a nurse came over and said she needed to handover Gemma to another nurse. Gemma did it for her;

'I'm a f*cking nutter, and I should be on that bed that just got pushed out - I should be dead on that trolley'

I recall my jaw dropping at that point. She turned to me;

'Yeah I bet you'll love it when you don't have to see me again, you'll love it when I'm finally dead'

I replied, 'Yeah I will. I'll love it when you don't have to come here anymore. I'll love it when I won't have to clean the blood from your wounds and I'll love it when I don't have to look after you, because I don't want to see you ever again'

She looked at me gone out.

'I'll love it when you're better, when you don't have to come here for help because you've stopped all this. Not because you're dead.'