All About Me Holby City

OK, so you got me.

Sunil's got links to the company that provides us with implants.

They're only going to keep one senior cardiothoracic surgeon.

Keep your mouth shut, put your name on the door.

You have a great knowledge of medicine for someone in your line of business.

It come in very handy when you're a nurse.

You're not Mr Levy, are you?

-Thankfully, not.

-I'm Chantelle, by the way.

This patient, take his mask off.

If you leave it on, he's going to go into respiratory arrest.

Hanssen's a pussycat really.

He thinks I should offer you a job, if you're interested.

No, no. I hadn't heard that!

You're joking! Tell me you're joking...

Well, then you're an idiot!

-This place, is run by cretins!

-What?

Admin had given permission to Plastics to take over the relatives' room.

-Oh, dear...

-That's it?

Cardio-thoracic surgery is being pushed out of

Holby in favour of boob jobs, and that's all you can master?

Sorry. It's this disc oxygenator...

I've been asked to talk at a symposium this afternoon, on the history of heart surgery...

It's really quite fascinating you know.

We used to use these back, take the kit, you need a...

Can you believe this?

I don't want to say 'I told you so.'

But... Oh, look... You've got a new customer.

Now, be cool. Don't scare him away.

This is Billy Summerville, thirty-two, been sent up from ED.

He's had bloods, cross-match, and 10mgs morphine.

No sign of any haemoathorax or respiratory complications, but he does have mild concussion...and...

A screwdriver sticking out of his chest.

X-ray suggests it might have punctured the heart. But...

-he's stable.

-And...he's orange.

Right, do you feel any pain?

Not at all. The gear they gave me downstairs worked a treat.

You are one lucky son of a...

In fact, you know... I don't feel nothing.

You could just whip this thing out,

stick a plaster over the hole and I'll be out your hair.

Well, it's not that simple.

This could be serious. Screwdriver may've damaged your heart.

We have to see exactly where it went in.

Ah, y'know now I'm not in any pain.

I could probably just... Pull it out, myself.

Save you the bother.

-If, I can just get enough... purchase... on.

-NO!

It's been a while since someone made me breakfast in bed...

-Thank you.

-You're worth it...

So... our private lives all mixed up with professional...

-You don't mind?

-You kidding?

Playing 'Doctors and Nurses', with the best-looking man in Holby?

-Forty is the new thirty!

-Yeah but, thirty is really old!

I'm going to come to your 30th birthday, young lady,

and I'm going to remind you of these words.

-See how if you like it.

-Would you like, still be... alive when I'm thirty?

Oh, look at this! Senior Staff Nurse McKee. Looking good!

Aw! Major wave of envy!

It's not Prada. It's just another nurses' uniform.

So... How good does it feel? To have a permanent position at last?

Oh. So what you saying. Now I have to sleep with you?

God. No...

-I didn't mean.

-I'm messing, Sacha. I'm just messing.

-Did you 'give it large' last night? To celebrate?

-No. Never.

Not the night before a new job.

Wanted to get here early so I could work out

how to the streamline triage process.

-Ah, now I know you're messing with me.

-No. Go look on your desk.

PHONE VIBRATES

-I've got to take this. Sorry.

-Did I mention it's my birthday?

Only like, a hundred times.

Drinks tonight. Whole AAU crew. And...

-Ma mother's famous lemon drizzle cake.

-Am...

I like, still in the 'AAU crew', even though I'm just 'agency'?

Aw. Chantelle... Course you are!

I told you not to call me at work. Ever.

And, why am I still walking around my flat, tripping over your stuff?

Jimmy, I don't want to talk.

No. No.

I do not have a hangover!

-Hey.

-Hey...

Nice kiss...

Just then. You and Chrissie. Nice to see you two.

All so... Loved-up.

Can we, not do this?

Only thing lacking... I'd say...

was a lickle... chemistry.

-Know what I'm saying?

-I mean it... Please.

Thought it'd be like you were going through the motions.

Cause back when you kissed me there seem to be so much more...

Don't.

Relax, man.

Don't get all churned-up over this.

You haven't done a terrible thing.

And you're not the first straight guy who's ever

fell off the straight-tracks by kissing a beautiful gay black man.

-Just keep away from me.

-Hey. Dan. You kissed me, man.

And All I'm saying is.

You decent in there?

Sorry to break up the male-bonding.

I've got a patient out here who needs an ortho-GS consult.

So, the lucky man gets to see both of you.

Together.

Come on! Now would be nice!

I've got people suffering out here.

Lead the way. I'm all yours.

Don't keep us waiting...

How's it looking?

Just trying to work out how you're still alive.

The screwdriver's gone straight through your heart.

You could've bled out in less time than it takes to boil a kettle.

-I could murder a cup of tea.

-Would you excuse us?

-Speaking of murder...

-Considered my offer?

Oh... What your offer to make me Queen of Darwin when eventually, one day you become a King?

You've read the Strategic Review.

CT at Holby's over.

They're going to fold it into St James's and make all Cardio staff redundant.

If you want my silence about Plastics' dodgy conflict of interest

then I want something in writing.

Aw, come on... Be serious? I can't do that. It's gotta be 'gentleman's agreement'.

How do I know you won't just stab me in the back?

My neck's on the line.

You can trust me.

I'll think about it.

You do know I could hear all that...

Right? 'Dodgy conflicts' and all...

You ask me... the Yank sounds slippery.

If you ask me. You should mind your own business.

I hate being Agency. It's like I'm an orphan or something.

Haven't got home to go to.

Every job's like being fostered-out to a new family.

-Let me guess, and after a couple of weeks, they don't want you, right?

-Exactly.

-Can't imagine why.

Give yourself a break, you're just starting out.

But, I want to be like you.

Proper job. Proper contract.

You're so... so... sorted.

I want the name of the person in charge. It's not good enough.

I expressly told the Operator, do not let your driver ring my intercom...

Rang the wrong buzzer. Parked in the wrong place.

Driver reeked of cigarette smoke. And was insolent.

Nurse Lane... Could you put Ms Bried in bed four, please?

At last, someone who knows how to pronounce my name.

You've seen a ghost...

-Her eyesight must've gone.

-Whose?

Nothing... No-one.

She looks a bit... grumpy.

-What's she got?

-Diverticulitis.

A raw, gnawing pain in her bowel. That's going to improve her mood...

You're not joking.

So... you, palmed her off, on our lovely, sweet Chantelle?

That's a very important part of her nursing education...

With a hint of self-preservation?

Not in the slightest.

Can you feel it?

-What?

-The change in air-pressure.

The vacuum created out here...

By the massive sucking-up going on in there.

Very good gentlemen, very, very interesting.

Are any of the rumours true?

You'll have to be a little more specific, Miss Naylor.

The one about me being undead, is fallacious for example.

-About proposals to close the Cardio at Holby?

-Ah... that old chestnut.

So... you saying it's not true?

Was that a statement or a question?

Does CT in Darwin, at Holby, have a future?

CLANG! Oh, buggeration!

Oh, sorry. It's been so long since I've used a disc oxygenator.

Can't remember how to prime the inlet. Sorry.

Does CT on Darwin have a future?

On current form, Under current leadership. No.

Could you be more cryptic?

Cardio-thoracics is a dying speciality.

New techniques have reduced the demand.

Plastics on the other hand has a focussed mission, and an immaculate financial model.

Which promises to accelerate Holby's Foundation Trust status.

I get that it's changing, but where does it end?

You tell me Miss Naylor.

If some bright young CT surgeon delivered some magical notion of

how Cardio could once again play a key role in this hospital's life...

-I'm sure we'd fete her as the saviour of CT.

-I see.

Show me some magic. Miss Naylor.

Show me the magic.

Mr Selby this is Mr Malick.

-Can I call you Kevin?

-Not unless you want a fight...

-Call me Polly.

-Polly'?

Everyone does. Except my mum.

But she thought up Kevin... So, let her suffer it on her lips.

You're going to be looked after by two doctors, today, Polly.

Mr Malick and our Orthopaedic Consultant, Mr Hamilton...

Two doctors for the price of one.

If I hadn't fallen out a tree and broken my arse...

I'd think this was my lucky day!

Right. I want bloods.

Group and cross match. U's and E's. Urinalysis.

And keep a close eye on his B/P...

According to the notes in your ED file,

it says you've possibly damaged your spine.

If you don't mind me saying, you're a little old to be climbing trees.

The things we do for lo-ove.

Notes please.

So what were you doing climbing trees?

Trying to make a point.

An extremely painful one, as it happens.

Crux of the matter here is not just possible bone-fractures.

And bones is not my speciality.

I'm General Surgery. I'm...

Squidgy bits.

Squidgy bits, is me. Exactly.

Dr Dan here is all bone.

So what I'm interested in is what you might've done to your internal organs.

I do know, my heart is broken.

Keep him immobilised. Get onto Radiology.

Full-set of x-rays. Page me when there's something to see.

Excuse me.

-Hey. What's your problem?

-That's very funny.

Very funny, indeed.

Set me up with the campest queen of a patient... Just to watch me squirm.

Come on Dan. I'm all for seeing you squirm.

But, set you up? Please.

He's gay. He's hurt his spine. Even I can't arrange that.

Just keep out of my way today. OK?

Can you arrange that?

Yep. I'm still on hold.

Like I've been holding for the last ten minutes.

No don't put me back on h... . Crap!

Bloating. Wind. Constipation.

Diarrhoea. What does that say to you?

-I don't know... Holiday in Thailand?

-I beg your pardon!

Diverticular disease.

I have suffered nine times before.

And, I might add, suffered much medical incompetence.

Why is there no water by my bed?

Want me to get you a jug?

Nursing Procedure and Protocol...

section four paragraph two. "Hydration Management"...

-"Fluid management, dehydration and over-hydration must be treated appropriately."

-Blimey!

Swallowed a handbook, or what?

Let me get you tucked-up, and I'll go get you some water.

You are wearing a ring.

"Jewellery of any kind introduces a health and safety risk.

"Stones in jewellery harbour micro-organisms, may become dislodged

"and cause damage to patients."

Is there anyone you'd like me to inform, that you're here?

Oh, God, yes! Absolutely.

I'll give you a number and I want you to ask to speak to Jeffrey.

My partner. Well, ex.

-I could get you a phone.

-No. No. No. No.

I'm not actually allowed to ring.

Sort of a restraining court-order thing. But you can...

-I don't know if I should.

-Make it sound really good.

Life or death.

Huge hospital drama. 'Not sure he'll make it through the night' sort of thing.

All right. I'll see what I can do.

Funny thing love, isn't it? What it makes some people do.

You call that love?

Sorry. Do either of you know how to stream an archive video link?

-Elliot, there's kids in the hospital creche, who know how to stream video.

-Ah... good.

Perhaps you might be able to help me then.

I've got to do this talk on my contribution...

Come, young Jedi...

Come over from the Dark Side. Into the light.

-What is that?

-Facial Nerve Monitor.

Maps the contours of the nerves and identifies injurious stimuli.

No more nerve damage in theatre.

Hence. No more lop-sided smiles afterwards.

How can your department afford to upgrade equipment now?

CT's being stretched over a barrel.

Plastics is the future. Not just in what we do, But the way we're structured financially.

Come sample the succulent fruits of progressive medicine.

See what I mean Jac, cardio's history.

We've just had a phone call from Sahira, sorry, Ms Shah.

Don't tell me. She's got a sick toddler and a problem with a nanny

She's in an ambulance. Five minutes away, with an emergency patient.

Security Guard collapsed outside a supermarket.

Suspected cardiac tamponade...

she's doing compressions, but output is critical.

He'll need an emergency pericardiotomy on arrival.

She needs us to meet her with an Anaesthetist,

portable monitor and lines.

And pump on standby in theatre. She's already kept him alive for fifteen minutes...

Ok. I'll page Anaesthetics,

and bring the portable monitor. You book the pump, and get down there... Now!

I'm sorry. I've got a date with history.

Wow, I do not miss all that medical drama... Do you?

No. Not at all.

She's drinking water like a haddock.

And her blood pressure's dropping.

D'you think I should grab Mr Levy to look at her now?

-He's on his rounds. He'll get to her.

-Yeah. But she's...

Sometimes Chantelle, what makes the difference between

OK agency nurse and a really good staff nurse is initiative.

-Yeah?

-Thinking on your feet.

So a word of advice about your patient today.

Whatever Barbara Bried thinks she's got...

Or wants or needs... You just do it.

-Yeah?

-Yeah. And to my knowledge she's never made a wrong call in forty years of nursing.

-What... so... You know her?

-Yeah.

Buzzard Bried.

-Buzzard?

-She was a Clinical Placement Tutor at St Thomas's...

Proper bitch on wheels. Nothing was ever good enough.

You know she used to make student nurses strip and remake beds,

till their fingers bled.

And you were one of them?

No, no. Missed her by a year...

She got promoted to Policy Committee and stopped training...

But her reputation was legend.

-Why 'Buzzard'?

-Eyes like a hawk.

Preyed on the weak... You think you can handle her?

Definitely. Course I can. If I'm ever going to be staff. Got to deal with all sorts. Right?

Patient has acute

cardiac tamponade. Became unresponsive en route.

-Had to perform emergency pericardiotomy!

-Greg...

-wound-treatment and full diagnostic follow up.

-Can I get some help?

-I'm plugging the hole in his heart with my finger!

-I've got it!

Ok. Theatre two is prepped.

That...

God...that was just amazing!

Theatre one, I need you to assist me.

Yes. But what about my patient?

No. Theatre one. Now.

I love my job.

Unzipped each of his scatter cushions...

Which I sourced, I'll have you know...

Inserted handful of prawns, in each.

-And zipped them back up again.

-You minx!

Thank you. With the central heating turned up, his lounge

smelled like Billingsgate on a bad day.

No wonder he put a restraining order on you.

I so wanted revenge.

You can understand that.

Jeffrey had the best years of my life.

-I gave him everything.

-Yeah. That's hard.

Made us a beautiful home together,

held his hand and mopped his brow, through all his work-dramas.

-And believe me, there were many.

-But he still left you?

Bless him, he didn't have the balls.

Cheated on me behind my back.

Silly idiot, never deleted his text-messages.

He fell for his secretary.

How cliched.

Some buff little twink, less than half his age.

Mr Hamilton still not showed with those x-rays?

Right. I really want to send you for a scan now. Assess any internal bleeding.

Just as soon as Mr Hamilton's checked the x-rays.

There's something up with him today.

-D'you know what it is?

-Not a clue.

-Ah, you're kidding me.

-What?

Dan's only gone and sent us his baby Registrar.

Mr Malick, Doctor Yul.

My pager tells me you need rescuing by the bone squad.

Yes, but if I hadn't been there, outside the supermarket,

at that very moment, he would've died!

Ah, the God complex.

Tailors suffer bad eyesight. Cardiac surgeon's suffer megalomania.

You're not getting it. Me. A cardiac specialist. At the scene...

You went in for nappies.

Came out, with another scalp to notch-up on your belt.

Look, we need to focus. We need to get the screwdriver,

-out of the man's chest, without killing him.

-How come he's not dead already?

-Beats me. It didn't kill him going in.

-But, once we pull it out...

Right. OK. Great. Let's go!

And, actually, it was hummus.

Not nappies. You do get it.

You understand what I'm saying?

-Right, Jac? Out there we could be saving lives.

-At the supermarket?

What do you suggest we do? Erect a kiosk by the photo booth?

Why not? It'd be like a mobile cardiac trauma unit.

Now, I'm no bone expert...

But if you was to ask me... I'd say that is a fracture.

Absolutely Doctor Malick.

Fracture to L4. Top marks.

Top marks? I'm not trying to pass an ortho exam here. I'm...

Look, long and the short is, this patient needs his abdo CT scan now.

-I concur.

-Oh, you do? Good.

Because, you know, and I know, that if that is a fracture.

You ain't qualified to go anywhere near it, in an operating theatre.

-Agreed?

-I concur.

Only Dan the Man can do spine.

But what you don't know, because you're just an orthopaedic badger,

is that every minute you spend scratching your head

and your boss avoids me, means more internal bleeding. More organ damage.

-I con.

-Don't! Don't say it.

Just hash your mouth, go get your boss and tell him to get his lazy, work-shy arse on this case, now!

I'm pulling. Be my eyes.

There's such a low survival rate for cardiac trauma.

-Every moment and every second counts.

-How we doing?

Keep it going. Gentle.

14 centimetres

12

Coming past the aorta...

See, the problem with cardiacs today... is it's in the wrong place.

In a hospital?

Aorta's good... Slow down.

I can't go any slower.

Dish.

-What can you see?

-Nothing! Not even a graze!

-It's missed everything?

See, what I'm saying, is if we had ambulances specially equipped

to deal with cardiac trauma.

We could use that crucial time on the way back to hospital to make a real difference.

-Show me the magic...

-Well,

perhaps we should suggest it to Hanssen.

-Might be the leg-up cardiac needs. He might jump at it.

-Or...

Or he might think it's a dumb idea.

-Money, manpower.

-You think?

You're the one with history.

Why don't you suggest it?

She keeps on insisting I order an ultrasound...

My bloods show an elevated white cell count.

So I need IV fluids, and you need to book an ultrasound.

-I already said I can't do that...

-Yes, you can.

You're not supposed to. But, nurses do it all the time.

We need Mr Levy's permission.

He'll tell you exactly what I'm telling you. Book an ultrasound.

Which will confirm the diverticula on my colon have swollen to the size of dessert grapes.

-You do not need some idiotic-Doctor.

-How we doing, here?

She wants an ultrasound.

Ms Bried... May I?

-So where does it hurt?

-There.

And before you ask, it's hurt for exactly fifteen hours.

Urine microscopy. FBC, LFT's.

-IV fluids... Half hourly obs, please.

-And an ultrasound!

-Let's just wait and see what the tests show us first, shall we?

-You.

I know you. Never forget a face. When did you train?

You... wouldn't know it.

McKee... Something McKee.

-Eddi...

-That's right.

Bright girl. Always in trouble with Senior Tutor...

Boys and alcohol. Inappropriate behaviour.

Could've got a Distinction. Barely scraped with a Pass... Very disappointing.

Right. I just need you to sit up...

Eddi!

In a perfect world, I'd really rather you hadn't heard that.

But just for the record, it was one boy.

Well... maybe it was two... And I re-sat. And got a distinction.

And my Senior Tutor was a complete sleaze bag.

That... didn't make things any better. Did it?

I'm not interested in your past...

I'm interested in your future.

What you're going to do.

Here. On my ward...

You're right. I'm the one with history. He brought me here.

He wants me to work for Holby...

to take initiative, to suggest a new dynamics for Cardio Thoracics.

-That's a good thing. Right?

-Only one way to find out.

What's Little Miss Sunshine selling?

-How d'you mean?

-She's selling him something.

-Can tell by the body language...

-And you're an expert?

On human manipulation?

He wants something from her.

-That's for sure.

-Hanssen? No way.

All his blood's used up in his brain.

Something's going on.

Miss Naylor!

Right, bed seven.

Who's that?

Security guard.

He nearly died too. So, you'll be good company for each other.

Who is your top GS Consultant?

-Mr Hanssen.

-Henrik Hanssen?

I've heard of him. Good. Get him down here, now.

-Mr Levy is your doctor.

-Idiotic flouncer.

All wet smiles and warm hands.

That man is a plodder. I've seen a thousand of them.

I can assure you, that all you need...

Don't tell me what I need.

You know nothing. You're still the same mess you always were.

Probably still letting your grubby private life leech into work.

I've got you another pillow. Let's see if we can't get you more comfy.

I am going to report you all to Sir Fraser Anderson,

the Chief Executive of the Strategic Health Authority...

whom I know personally.

Unless you... get me Mr Hanssen.

I can't do that. I'm not qualified to.

And in my complaint, I will make it crystal clear, that you personally,

are the reason I complained...

about the entire AAU team.

-That's not fair.

-Unless... You get me Mr Hanssen.

Like Nurse McKee said you would.

So, what exactly did Hanssen say?

He loved the idea. Just like you said.

Thought the men in suits would see it as...

an ingenious usage of fixed assets.

-Ingenious...

-I told him that we'd need to have a fixed number of beds

in Darwin, ring-fenced, for Cardiac Trauma work.

-That'd stop Plastics taking over all our beds. Beautiful.

-Exactly.

Sorry, to interrupt but Billy Orange keeps asking for you.

Says he wants his own room now.

Well, I want my own swimming pool. But that's not going to happen.

That's what I told him. But he keeps saying just to ask you.

Why would I care?

Where'd you leave it with Hanssen?

He said, I need to a Consultant to back me up.

A Consultant?

Which is why, I wanted Elliot to hear the details. Where is he?

So you... need a Cardiac Consultant?

Yes.

Where are we going?

To look at your future...

Cardio-thoracic Surgical Consultant, Elliot Hope... Hanssen hates him.

He's the most famous heart man in Holby.

So? Hanssen hates him.

Ever since he stuck his size eleven calf-skin leather brogue through that door,

Hanssen's wanted rid of Hope. Look at him!

-You think that's who he wants as your Chief Consultant on the Cardiac Trauma Unit?

-Who else is there?

You're messing with me, right?

-You need me.

-You need me, you mean.

You've only just been made Consultant!

What's the alternative? Great Uncle Bulgaria?

How do I know, I can trust you?

It's still your project.

I'm the rubber stamp that gets you past the bureaucracy.

Right, so when Holby's ground breaking Cardio Trauma Unit

becomes the model for a roll-out of similar units, through the NHS?

And you're the credited Consultant...

where does that leave me?

Second in command.

-As so long as you're Number One?

-As long as I'm Number One.

I don't care what you call yourself.

Least we know where we stand.

I've labelled routine bloods,

written the forms and arranged for collection.

-You don't need to liaise with the lab any more...

-That's exactly the sort of news I want to hear... Oh, crap!

No water. Hair down. Wearing jewellery.

Registrar was rude. Sloppy.

Sat on my bed! Didn't use hand wash.

Senior Nurse was sullen. With no control over her staff.

And now look... Bringing hot drinks onto a surgical ward.

Section four. Paragraph four "Breaks for refreshments will

"start in a defined window, and must be taken in an appropriate area".

Rest assured your comments are noted and will be dealt

with the utmost expediency. Mr Levy, please.

Why is Hanssen here?

-I called him.

-What?!

She said you said I should call Mr Hanssen.

I'm sorry. But, I really don't think she's just got Diverticular disease.

Her stats are all higgledy-piggledy. I tried to tell you...

-Oww! Oww!

-Just calm down, Mrs Bried. Mr Levy! That is... Owww!

Her blood pressure's dropping. She's been guzzling water and her pulse is at 150! I didn't know what to do.

Well, this is not Diverticular disease. I would suggest her appendix has ruptured

and she is developing peritonitis. Book her a theatre. Mr Levy, Nurse McKee,

-would you join me please?

-No. I really can't. I have to...

-Thank you.

Ms Naylor!

Billy Orange says people keep laughing, because he's still covered in orange paint.

And whose fault is that?

Honestly. We can't shift it.

I've tried everything.

Why are you bothering me with this?

Because he keeps saying I'm to tell you...

personally. He says you and him

have some kind of "understanding".

Hey. I was just looking for you.

-What are you doing here?

-I got called in.

Thought we could grab a coffee. We need to talk.

Why? Are you pregnant? Not right now, Jimmy.

-You can't just keep walking away.

-I'm working!

Nurse McKee. We need to get prepped. We don't want to keep Mr Hanssen waiting.

I'm at work. All right? All of this can wait.

You promised me this wouldn't happen again.

Be nice to finish just one shift without a visit from Jimmy.

-I don't understand your problem.

-I'm bright orange, aren't I? People look at me.

Who?

I'm uncomfortable about my colour.

So you think I should move you to a single room?

There's got to be some tiny side ward thing, tucked away.

-What are you afraid of?

-Nothing.

Don't be daft.

-So when's he going to wake up?

-Any time. Hopefully.

Nah. I want out of here.

-That's not happening.

-Look, Doctor.

I'm not this sort of guy, all right? I'm really not.

But, if I was...

I might be saying that what I heard in the scanner room

between you and the slippery Yank, you know, dodgy "contracts" and all that...

was something you probably don't want your boss to know about.

Am I right?

-I don't know what you're talking about.

-That's it.

I'm not talking. Am I?

But if I WAS that kind of guy...

I might be talking...

to the lanky geezer with the glasses.

-Know what I'm saying?

-Nurse, HDU is empty, isn't it?

-Yes.

Maybe you're over-reacting? Sending your registrar?

Patient's showing increased neurological deficit. Don't tell me what I am.

Well, I think Chrissie's a bit confused by your mood too.

Could be nerve damage or an unstable fracture.

He needs to go to theatre. Leave her out of this.

But this could be a haematoma. There's a bleed in there somewhere.

If it is a haematoma, it's a very small one. And in my opinion, of no surgical consequence.

Your "orthopaedic consultant, don't know jack about organs" opinion?

-Waiting could compromise...

-You've compromised him by time-wasting.

"I'm not working with the scary gay black man." He could lose a kidney.

-If I don't decompress his cord, he could end up paralysed.

-All I'm saying is "wait".

Let me see what that bleed is first. All right, wait. What if? What if...

we do both operations together?

-No.

-That way I can assess the bleed, remove the haematoma,

while you repair the fracture and prevent nerve damage.

Together?

Fine. This is my operation. I lead. Your team is "assist".

'What's the Cardiac Trauma Unit?'

-What do you care?

-Every cardiac dork in Darwin's talking about CTU, CTU...

Like it's the best thing since Velcro.

-Something Sahira's cooked up.

-Ah!

Who the cardiac-muppets are also talking about, like she's the next messiah.

-They get easily excited.

-What is it?

Bid to launch mobile cardiac ambulances and in-house specialist trauma facilities...

-blah, blah, blah.

-That's it?

-She doesn't confide. We're not Facebook friends.

-You being straight?

-You're worried I'm going to get into bed with the princess, and freeze you out?

-We have a deal.

-No, we don't. I asked for something in writing and you said "no".

How many times do I have to say this?

When Plastics takes over Darwin and Cardio is pushed out,

you will be the only CT consultant in the building.

-You can't guarantee that.

-I can guarantee Plastics will need a CT surgeon.

-The hospital's only going to want one. Ergo...

-Ergo nothing. If CT shuts down...

WHEN CT is shut down.

You could just shrug your Armani-suited shoulders and say "Sorry, I tried, but no can do."

You'll be the only CT physician on Darwin.

-You'll get all our private chest work. You get...

-Yeah, yeah. I want a contract.

Guaranteeing all crossover procedures, ring-fenced theatre time, pick of private referrals

and the word "Consultant" in big bold letters at the top of it.

-I can maybe stretch...

-I want something in writing. Today.

-That's not going to happen.

Or else I might start listening to the dorks.

Word is, they need a consultant to head-up the new CT unit.

What I intend to do, Mr Selby, in theatre, is pop you on your stomach

so I can work on your back.

No. We can't do the posterior approach if we're going to properly check the haematoma.

We'll keep you on your back, and make the incision in your front.

-Back!

-Front!

-Excuse us.

If you think I'm going to dig all the way through this guy, past bowel and intestines,

-to get to his spine...

-It's the only way I can assess the bleed.

Going in from the front increases the risk of arterial damage.

-Sorry, Polly.

-Oh, don't be.

Two young men fighting over my body! What's to be sorry about?

Bet you've had some men fighting over you, in your day, eh?

Like young bucks rutting over a doe-eyed fawn.

-Yeah. Something like that.

-Consultant vs registrar. Get it into your thick skull.

You've got issues. Forget it!

-What's going on?

-He is so arrogant. So up himself.

-"Listen to the Malick. The Malick knows what he's talking about." Why are gays so bloody...?

-What?

You know, in your face about everything.

I don't like you very much today.

What happened to the sweet man I woke up with this morning?

-We should go to his office now!

-After I've sorted this chest drain. What is the hurry?

Strike while the iron's hot. A hungry fish is the easiest fish to catch.

Have you started making bumper stickers?

I know Henrik. And sometimes it's better not to let him dwell.

Right. We have to show a united front.

My idea. My passion. You as the steady, talented consultant hand on the tiller. Right?

-Aye, aye, Captain.

-Simple pitch.

-We list the top three salients and assure him we're a mutually-supportive team.

-Ah.

You're wheeling and dealing with this doctor now? She's better-looking than the Yank.

X-ray, please.

Why don't you just write me a script?

Sorry. I'm just trying to be efficient.

I think this could be amazing!

I think it could really work.

And another thought, if the cardiac trauma unit had a mobile theatre and diagnostics,

then patients wouldn't even need to be admitted to ED or AAU.

It'd save a fortune! More bed space. Less cost. But I won't mention those savings just yet.

It'll save massive expenditure on ED and AAU, as they won't require cardiac diagnostics.

More bed space. Less cost.

And, um, CTU will be able to handle penetrating thoracic injuries, blunt trauma,

pleural effusions, haemopneumothoraxes.

It'll save hundreds, if not thousands, of lives every year.

And bridge the gap between the emergency itself

and, er, the interventional...

Holby will be a pioneering flag-bearer of CT surgery.

Well, the idea suggests much potential.

-I would like to read a feasibility study first, please.

-Of course.

HE CHUCKLES

Sorry. It's just I didn't really see you two as quite such a creative team.

-I've been watching Ms Shah closely since she arrived at Holby.

-And what do you see?

A very bright future.

'Grasper, please.'

Thank you.

So, Nurse McKee, today is your first day with us on substantive contract.

Yeah.

So nursing errors stop with you.

Including agency hiring.

-PHONE RINGS Yes.

-How much longer will Nurse Lane remain with us?

I don't know. I'd have to check, I think.

Mr Levy. >

I do hope you don't intend to take that now.

Tell them...

It's urgent.

All right, put it on speaker.

'Hello-o?'

Hello, who's this?

'Hello, Sachy! Sachy-Baby!'

-Oh, no!

-'It's Mumma!'

-Mum, not now!

-# Happy birthday to you!

# Happy birthday to you!

-Kill it! Kill it!

-# Happy Birthday, dear Saaa-chy!

# Happy Birthday to you. #

Stapler.

Birthdays are a big deal in Ma Levy's life.

Who please, is responsible for patching that call through to theatre during procedure?

Soon as I done it, I thought, "Chantelle, you are such a twonk!"

-What possessed you?

-She said she was Mr Levy's mother, and I should do what she says.

-You do, don't you? Your boss' mum tells you do something, you do it!

-But patching the call into theatre?

When I worked Saturdays in the supermarket, we always sang Happy Birthday over the tannoy.

I'm never getting booked here again, am I?

And I love it here.

It's that Barbara's fault. She dobbed me in to Mr Hanssen.

-She was going to dob us all.

-Buzzard was my fault.

-What?

-Look.

She's my past. OK?

She's my problem.

I shouldn't have dumped her on you.

-Yes?

-I'm not going to stop hiring her, Mr Hanssen.

I'm giving her a three-month renewal.

Look, she's only 21, and she's a good nurse.

Pray tell me what makes her a good nurse? All I've heard is a litany of complaints.

And she was responsible for broadcasting...

If she hadn't called you down...

OK, if you hadn't been here

because she called you, what could have happened, with the peritonitis?

-It could have been very serious.

-I didn't call you.

Mr Levy didn't call you. She did.

She called you, because she thought you were the best surgeon to deal with a critical GS situation.

-She went straight to the top.

-Am I supposed to feel flattered?

Am I supposed to punish a nurse for saving a patient?

What did you say on the message, exactly?

I said you were going into theatre for a serious operation.

-You said "serious"? You stressed "serious"?

-Yes.

And he still didn't ring back?

It appears not. No.

Then I'm not having the operation. Simple as that. Not having it.

-If he can't be bothered.

-Polly.

I stressed "serious" because it is. This is very serious.

-Your injury.

-I'm not going in until Jeffrey calls!

Don't look at me.

You're the lead. I'm just "assist".

Don't think you can change my mind because you can't.

I'd rather be paralysed than go into an operation without speaking to Jeffrey.

You need to be in theatre, now.

-You could suffer irreparable damage.

-We've been together for 22 years.

I've never done anything in all that time without Jeffrey knowing. Without discussing it.

-I'm afraid you've run out of time.

-If I went to the video store to rent a film, I'd call him.

Read out the blurb on the back.

And we'd decide, yes or no, together.

What can I say?

I don't think he's coming.

All those years. Just chucked away.

For some cheesy highlights and a six-pack.

You know the perfect revenge?

-Bunny-boiling?

-"Live your life well."

That's what they say. You don't want your ex to see you in pieces.

You want him to see you over him.

Living your life.

Believe me, I've been engaged twice. Reception booked. Honeymoon planned.

Both times ended in tears.

You know what hurt the most once all the dust settled?

Seeing my exes happy.

Going on to live a happy life, in which I would play absolutely no part.

Like I never existed.

-Really?

-Your bloke's not going to be sorry he left you if you turn into some emotional basket-case.

But if he sees you living your life well...

happy...

how's he going to feel then?

Gutted. I hope.

OK.

Wheel me in.

Do your worst.

Right. The orange eejit only wants me to send out for a Chinese now!

Won't eat "hospital slop". How is it he thinks he's so special?

And the police are here. They want to talk to the security guard.

Huh. What exactly do we know about Billy Summerville?

I've tried to get his notes on the computer and there's nothing.

Never been ill, or nothing in his file?

As far as the database is concerned, he doesn't exist.

GP?

He "can't remember" their name.

-And the paint?

-I tried everything, honestly.

Acetate, white spirit, paint remover.

It's not normal paint.

And how did he get it all over his face?

Who knows?

You were fantastic! You stood up to him

like a gladiator. How d'you do that and not get freaked out?

-I just think of him naked. Or on the toilet.

-Really? Do you?

Like what? Having a number two?

No. OK. But still, thank you. Thank you!

No! We don't hug. No hugging! Never.

We do our jobs. We're professionals. Professional nurses. You don't hug.

No hugging. Right.

So I just need your permission to interview the security guard.

-When he's fully conscious.

-So there was a robbery?

-More of a grab, really.

When the security guard collapsed outside the superstore.

-Armed robbery?

-Nah. Just an opportunist.

When a guard was having his heart attack thing, some chancer grabbed a cash box and legged it.

Any idea who did the grabbing?

There's some CCTV footage we're looking at.

-He jumped into his mate's car. So they'll turn up.

-How d'you know?

All the transit cash boxes are armed with explosive security dye bags.

Dye bags?

If they try to lever it open while the car's moving, boom.

Dye everywhere.

Looks like paint. Only it doesn't come off.

That way, even we can spot the bad guys.

Yeah.

What colour?

-You bitch!

-Come on.

-What did you think? I was going to help smuggle you to Panama?

-Yeah, it's Billy Bugler, Sarge.

Gave the name Billy Summerville.

Looks like he's done ten rounds with the Tango Man.

-Colour really suits you.

-But, I know all about you and the Yank.

Trying to diddle the NHS.

-You know nothing.

-Bang to rights. No question.

If we do the rounds on his known acquaintances,

we're bound to turn up a smashed motor and probably another orange perp.

-Planned this one well, eh?

-I'll read him his rights,

-I'll tell the Old Bill.

-What?

Prat went and skewered himself like a kebab.

That you and that Yank doctor...

You don't know anything.

Who d'you really think they'd believe, anyway?

An eminent cardiac consultant or a man who looks like a walking kumquat?

I hope the Yank screws you up good and proper!

Very impressive. What you did.

With Polly.

And there's me thinking Orthopaedics were all just

power-tools and "Wham-bam thank you, ma'am".

You trying to be funny?

No, I mean it.

-You handled that very sensit...

-Are we going to be stood here like spare parts for another hour?

Just so you know. If you'd have gone in posteriorly,

ignored his bleed,

you'd have been repairing the spine of a dead man.

You calling my judgment?

I'm just trying to point out that your "stuff", letting personal get in the way of professional,

could've killed this patient.

You going to repair that bleed and get out of my way?

To sort this bleed, I need to remove the kidney.

There isn't time. I need to expose the lumbar vertebrae.

So, we have to share the space. Which means you keep out my way!

Give me your retractor.

Excuse me.

'Naylor.'

I'm just going to say right from the top, this goes against my better judgment.

-A contract?

-A letter of intent.

Sign it.

-What's the rush, all of a sudden?

-I don't like the rumours.

Word is that Hanssen is actually supporting Sahira's Cardiac Trauma thingy.

-You said maybe we shouldn't have anything in writing.

-Sign it.

-What with Plastics being a bit...

-Sign.

It says here, you'll give me a limited CT unit and negotiated theatre slots.

You'll be the only CT physician.

Make that a proper CT setup, with protected slots, and I might just consider it.

-Fine.

-And I want four dedicated beds, a registrar, two house officers, a ward sister,

six nurses, complete autonomy and I might just accept it.

I'm this far from telling you to get lost.

I know you're trying to play hard-ball, like you've got something really bad on me.

What you really got, Jac, is jack all.

I've been looking for you everywhere.

I've done some preliminary research on the feasibility study

and I wanted to run some figures past you.

Can we talk about this in my office, later, please?

Mr Spence just needs me to sign some paperwork.

Sure.

-Feasibility study?

-For her CTU pitch.

-You are helping her bid against Plastics for funding?

-Actually, I'm her nominated consultant.

-You're playing me?

If the CTU pitch is a threat to Plastics

then it makes it a lot easier for us to know exactly what CTU are up to.

-You're a mole?

-That way, I know exactly how and when to sabotage it.

So your plan is to make her think you're part of her bid?

Keep your friends close.

And your enemies closer.

-Tying off renal artery.

-Mobilising the peritoneum to expose lumbar spine.

Scissors. Preparing to remove kidney.

Lumbar exposed. Suction.

Removing kidney.

-I don't believe it! You idiot!

-What d'you call me?

Clamp. Suction.

How can I work in there now? It's like an abattoir!

-If you hadn't been pushing in...

-Clean that up! You get that bleeding stemmed and keep out of my way.

Unless you'd like to slice through

the inferior mesenteric artery while you're in there and finish the job!

I told you. I'm in charge.

Do your job to the best of your ability, or get out of my theatre now!

If you ever, ever disrespect me like that again, I will bust you up. You understand me?

That your answer to everything - violence?

When it comes to jumped-up little white-boy consultants who put my patients at risk, yes.

Violence does the job.

What, no kiss?

Look at you.

You think you're the only straight guy I ever kissed? Think again.

-You are such a cliche. You rugger- bugger types are all the same.

-Like you know anything about me.

Tell you what I do know. I know the person who is going to get hurt by you the most is Chrissie.

Leave her out of this.

Me, I'm big and ugly

but I know what you are.

She doesn't. It's going to come as a nasty, big shock.

She's the one I really feel sorry for.

'Did Henrik Hanssen operate on me?'

Mr Hanssen removed your appendix.

Good.

They say he's very talented.

The only reason he operated on you was because Nurse Lane urgently requested him.

You could say she saved your life.

Oh, and I'm supposed to say thank you?

You've bullied all the nurses you're ever going to bully.

And now you're here. On my ward. On my watch.

At the mercy of one of those very same nurses.

-I want to speak to whoever is in charge.

-Sure.

That would be me.

Difference between you and me is I made mistakes, know I messed up, and I'm trying to change.

You, Barbara, you'll never change.

You'll always be a miserable cow!

You give any more of my nurses a hard time, and peritonitis will feel like a picnic in the park.

'Did someone drive a truck over me?'

You had a very, very close call.

One of your kidneys was so badly damaged, they had to remove it.

One way to lose weight!

Did Jeffrey call?

No. Don't answer that.

To me,

Jeffrey's history.

It's like Consultant Dan said,

best revenge is to live your life well.

That kind of makes sense.

Not just dishy. Wise too.

Well, hands off. He's MY dishy Dan.

Yours? Really?

I thought... I assumed...

Two engagements. No strike...

-he'd finally got the message

-What message?

Nothing.

I'm sorry.

My radar must be off-whack.

Life is full of little surprises.

You coming?

No, I shouldn't.

Look, I'm sorry, it won't always be this way.

I will make you glad that you hired me.

Well, you stood up to Hanssen.

You've certainly got balls. And I must say, I do like my nurses to have...

Sorry. That's really not going to go where I want it to go.

-We good?

-I'm good.

Come for one. Just one.

OK.

-Hey, birthday boy!

-Albie's, now. I'm buying. Oh, the Malick!

Just follow the vibe. I'm buying.

Come on. You coming?

Come on! You've done it up.

OK, I'm coming.

I love working with my boys. We're a tight team, aren't we?

You still here?

When I said we'd talk later, I meant later. At home.

Not come and stalk me at work!

-I'm going for a drink.

-I'm not stalking you.

-I'm interviewing a crim up on Darwin.

-Oh, and that's just coincidence, is it?

What did you do, Jimmy? Volunteer so you could keep tabs on me?

No.

So when can we talk?

You know what? We don't need to.

-You still got your key?

-Yeah.

Then use it, please. Take your stuff out, today.

Put it through the letter box when you're done.

That it? Clear my stuff out, you go and get legless?

Again? End of story.

This is my job now.

And I'm not going to mess it up.

Not for anyone.

Eddi?

'Thank you very much!'

They actually do suit you.

Two presents? Wow, you're very generous.

If you decide to, um...

Thank you very much.

You shouldn't have!

Not me. Miss Naylor sent it down.

Jac? Jac sent me a present!

'That's it.'

It will only take a minute.

-Elliot, what is this?

-Well, it's a sort of celebration.

You found your grommet thing, then?

The O-ring diaphragm. Yes. Fully functional now.

I think Mr Spence is a bit threatened by our CT pitch.

-Good work.

-I don't have time for this.

Michael. Don't worry, everyone.

I'm not about to bore you with my History of Cardiology lecture.

Although, if I do say so myself, it was very well received.

These were given to me by way of a small thank you by the Wellcome Foundation

and I thought I'd like to share them with my fellow Darwinians.

-OK, well, we do have to be somewhere else.

-Check this out, man. Vintage 1999.

Classy. It's good.

Someone somewhere really rates the old duffer.

Never underestimate Elliot Hope. In the Cardio world, he's a legend.

Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention. Thank you.

I know that there's been a sort of divide on Darwin of late.

Cardiacs versus Plastics. You know.

Sort of Pumps versus Bumps.

But this is not a turf war.

This is our ward.

Darwin is big enough for both of us.

We can co-exist.

So I would like to propose a toast to Darwin!

-ALL:

-To Darwin!

It's a screwdriver.

Hang on, there's a note.

"Sorry I screwed you over."

Thanks, Jac.

Very useful.

-Happy birthday, Sacha!

-Happy birthday!

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Happy Birthday to me!

Sahira told me earlier about your CTU Project pitch.

-Ah.

-Sounds fantastic.

The specialist diagnostic ambulances,

mobile CT theatres... Well done!

-Thanks.

-Really.

-And, I'm glad she chose you to partner her.

-Are you?

I know my strengths, Jac.

Thrusting ain't one of them.

Sacha phoned. Cake and candles in the bar in ten minutes.

Ladies and gentlemen. Before we all rush to the bar

to give Mr Levy the bumps, I'd like to raise a glass to a new project

which I hope has a bright and bountiful future.

To Shah and Naylor, and the Cardiac Trauma Unit.

-Good luck, ladies.

-Thank you. And can I make a quick toast too?

To my new ally. To Jac.

Without whose support and encouragement none of this would be happening. To Jac!

-ALL:

-To Jac!

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