When the Hangover Strikes Holby City

-Are you drunk?

-I shouldn't be by now.

Very laid back, compared to what I'm used to.

-You're absolutely useless.

-Bitch.

It's probably best that we forget it ever happened, right? Move on.

Yeah.

We make a very good team, so why not stay?

You told me to show some initiative. Well, I have a new mentor.

What do you think you're going to learn by being a bone monkey?

-You've been undermining me all day.

-It's not easy being the new boy.

-We should give him a chance.

-Should we?

We'll just have the one.

MUSIC: "Forget You" by Cee-Lo Green

-God, you can't half drink.

-Do you want another?

-I dunno.

-Come on, it's New Year's Eve!

-And we've just finished a 16-hour shift!

-All right.

Two Margaritas, please.

Have you got any resolutions?

Yeah.

Yeah. I'm going to be better.

At what?

SHE LAUGHS I'm going to be better at everything.

At my job, at my life, everything.

Oh, right!

What about you?

Yeah...got one.

What is it?

I can't say.

Oh, come on!

Oh, please yourself. Thank you.

Thought it was Hogmanay at the rugby club tonight.

-Affirmative.

-Well, time is pushing on.

-Can't face it.

-No?

Not in the mood for all that fake bonhomie.

Right, well, I should be...

-You're a good bloke, Ollie.

-Thank you.

-And a damn fine surgeon.

Hope so.

I think it's time you led in theatre.

-Really?

-We both know you've got the cojones for it.

-Do you think so?

Time to step up to the plate, kemosabe.

Not long now!

Mm. Let's go.

Go where?

-Do you want to go clubbing?

-Aren't we not waiting till midnight?

No chance. You don't want any of these losers trying to stick their tongues down our throat.

-No.

-Let's go.

Come on.

< Happy new year!

CHEERING

I love fireworks, me.

-What is that thing?

-Don't you want to just climb up into the sky and grab them?

Mm. That is a great idea.

EDDI CHUCKLES

-Eddi?

-Mm?

-What're you doing?

EDDI CHUCKLES

Oh, yes.

EDDI CHUCKLES

-Eddi?

-Mm-hm?

Woo-hoo!

Top of the world!

Eddi, get down!

EDDI LAUGHS

Oh, my god, there's someone in there!

EDDI LAUGHS

What are you laughing at?

-Mr Hemingway.

-Good evening.

-Happy New Year.

-And the same to you. Now,

could you just come down, please?

You spoilsport.

Thank you.

I think it's a little past your bedtime.

-Bet you say that to all the girls.

-Just the ones who have work in the morning.

I know where I'm not wanted.

Nurse Lane.

Nice legs!

-You're a loony.

-And he's got a poker stuck right up his arse!

-His face! I thought he was going to come up there and...

-I know!

-Where d'you get the shirt, Elliot?

-It's a Vyshyvanka.

-I only asked.

-Hand-embroidered in the Ukraine.

-Happy New Year.

-Ditto.

Moskovskaya.

-Thank you.

-How's Orthopaedics?

Great, looking forward to 2012?

Yes, it's always good to take stock, you know, set new goals.

Mm, see how many dislocated shoulders

-you can put back in the next 12 months.

-Plenty, hopefully.

-How's your new F2?

-He's great, yeah.

Not interested in having kids or defecting to the meathead department.

Right.

-Morning!

-Oh, you make me sick.

-Eh?

-How come you look so perfect?

-Oh, get lost.

-Oh.

-What's up?

I just remembered last night.

-You were mental.

-Wasn't that bad.

You are joking, aren't you?

What kind of weirdo lives in a car park anyway?

GROANING

D'you hear that?

GROANING

Oh, my god!

Can you get some help, please? Hello?

Hello, can you hear me? What's your name?

-Rachel.

-What happened, Rachel?

-I fell on her in the club.

-You're in the grounds of a hospital.

-I know, I came looking for her.

-Who?

-She's through here.

-That was quick.

-Morning.

-Hiya.

-Rough night?

-About average, thanks.

Come on, let's get her inside.

-Core temp 34.8.

-Thought you were living with friends.

We need to raise it one degree an hour, no more.

Had no idea you'd bought a place.

I want her in a bear hugger and space blanket.

-Bit on the small side, but...

-Run in a warm IV bag.

..what is it they say - location, location, location?

-Focus on the patient, Nurse McKee.

-What are the neighbours like?

-Pulse?

-Weak and erratic.

-Hers or yours?

-Fags.

-Crisps.

-Cake.

Right, Elliot 4-1, me 2-1 on. I'll give you any odds you like.

-Cheek of it!

-I'm a realist!

I'm booked in for my MOT next week so I've got no choice.

How can you be so sure that you're going to just give up the fags?

Ahh - secret weapon.

Come on then, what is it?

There's a hypnotist on the ward.

-You are not.

-I am.

Well, I shall be relying on my immense reserves of will power.

And...(your impeccable dress sense!)

-None of this stuff's working. I feel like death.

-See you've got a few souvenirs from last night.

-Eh?

Hickeys. Met a few blokes like that in my time too.

-He had this foul aftershave.

-Yeah?

I can still smell it now. Like cat pee.

How's her temperature?

-35.8.

-Feels like about minus 10.

-You're lucky to be alive, young lady.

-Lucky?

-I wrecked my best shoes.

-I was just about to put a catheter in.

-Right.

I loved them shoes. What catheter?

-We've got to get some fluids in to warm your bladder.

-No chance.

-Has to be done.

Gross.

Ahem. D'you want to give me a minute?

-You not doing the honours?

-No.

-Thought it might be a perk of the job.

-Only on the weekends.

-What's up with him?

-Me, mainly. Legs up.

How do I go about finding out if someone's in the hospital?

I really need to get this done, Rachel, OK?

-How did you survive out there all night in just a boob tube and a belt?

-Practise.

-How's the head?

-Fine. Yours?

-Spot on.

-That's one year I'm glad to see the back of. Out with old and all that.

-How's the list looking?

-Three dislocated shoulders. Think it's a non-elective record.

-Really?

Can't wait to get stuck in. Want to tell me about this ankle?

-It's knackered.

-You must have broken it when you fell over.

-Two malleolar fractures, one fib, one tib.

-Spot on.

-I need to phone work.

-Tracy here had a bit of a mishap on the dance-floor.

-I need to check on me kid!

-We'll be pinning your ankle into place.

-D'you know about mobiles?

-You're in a privileged position.

-How d'you mean?

-My phone's bust. Could you have a look?

-Sorry, I...

-Dr Valentine will be leading in theatre today.

-Congratulations!

What, him?! I need to tell my boss where I am.

Thought you might have forgotten.

-I don't let my people down.

-Great.

Get her prepped, please. Right, let's check out shoulder numero uno.

Am I invisible?

-Partying the night away, were we?

-How can you tell(?)

-What d'you get up to?

-Mojitos and Monopoly.

-Really is Nigella and friends, isn't it?

-Doctor?

-Not this clown again!

-Doctor!

-What's the problem?

-Yes, Martin?

I just felt another twinge.

Why don't you leave him alone? I'll be with you shortly.

-I really don't feel right.

-He's in with suspected angina, thinks he's going to drop dead any second.

-If it was a heart attack, you wouldn't be getting twinges.

-It's nothing to do with you!

You'd feel like one of Eddie Stobart's finest was sat on your chest.

-Now, now, boys, come on.

-Sorry, doc, but it's never-ending.

-Do you need any help?

-Serious?

-Mm-hm.

-Sort out the ECG for me.

Sure, you just finish off your coffee, OK?

I'll be with you in a minute.

You really are my hero, d'you know that?

You going to hold it against me all year?

-Hold what against you?

-You know what.

No, you're mistaking me for a mind reader.

-I had no idea it was your van.

-That's all right, then(!)

-I was only having a laugh.

-Tell it to the disciplinary hearing.

You've reported me?! Oh, you're funny.

-Coffee and painkillers?

-What?

-Isn't that your usual prescription to get through a day?

-No.

Why don't you take five, ten minutes up on the roof,

get your head nice and straight?

My head is as straight as a... straight thing, thank you very much.

-Really?

-At least I don't look down my nose at the patients.

-What?

-Look, I know you think Rachel Reid's some scummy chav,

-but she's got just as much right to be here as anybody else.

-Have I said anything to the contrary?

I can hear it in your voice.

Well, in that case, please accept my sincere apologies on behalf of all chavs everywhere.

So you collapsed mid-performance?

-You were due in for an angioplasty next week.

-That's right.

-So what were you doing onstage?

-Dying on my arse.

-Doctor Gold,

could you explain to Mr Evans what his problem is, please?

-What?

-This is Mr Evans.

He's our patient. You are a doctor.

-Sorry, I, er...

-What does the echo say?

Give us a second.

-Right, you've suffered a...

-A non-stemi.

-Which is a mild heart attack.

-You do surprise me.

-Yes, this is your third?

-Hat-trick.

-Showbiz obviously doesn't agree with you.

-We're barely on speaking terms.

-Perhaps you should try stand up instead of hypnotism.

We'll take you into theatre tomorrow to remove the clot and we'll put a stent in.

That's one booking I daren't miss.

Doctor Gold!

What's it like having the attention span of a brain-damaged fish?

-Apologies.

-Just start him off on GTN, heparin and oxygen.

-Right.

-You on the Creme de Menthe last night?

-No.

-So what's up with you?

-Nothing.

-Well, if you want to stay on my firm,

you'd better buck your ideas up.

-What song were you dancing to?

-Eh?

-When you fell?

-I didn't fall.

-Someone landed on me.

-Oh, right.

-Dancing Queen.

-Can't beat a bit of Abba.

-Really?

-Not that I'm...

-What?

-A massive fan or anything.

Oh, thought you were going to say gay!

Right, let's get you into theatre.

You know after the operation? How long will I be in hospital?

-Shouldn't be more than a couple of days.

-But I'll be all right to get around?

-You'll be on crutches.

-That's what I mean.

-You'll need plenty of rest.

-But I could walk?

-I wouldn't recommend it, no.

-Can I borrow your phone?

-I need you to sign this.

-Please.

-I can't.

-Why not?

-There are dozens of hungover patients...

-Who said I was hungover?

-Well, hats off to your constitution.

-He'll be doing his nut wondering where I am.

-Just here.

-I'm already losing a day's pay!

-Could you just sign, please?

I'd be really grateful.

Just make it quick, OK?

Thanks, gorgeous.

-You're the expert, but I'm sure I've had a heart attack.

-All the symptoms point to angina and hopefully

-we'll have you home in no time.

-Home?! But I've only just got here!

Why don't we wait for your blood tests to come back?

-Where's Mr Douglas, anyway?

-He is otherwise engaged.

He's the only one that really knows my case. If I'm right,

you know I've got a one in ten chance of dying on the ward?

Who's been having a sneaky peek at the internet?

-Bet I know more about what goes on here than you do.

-Quite possibly!

-What?

-I'll come back.

-Sorry.

-Can I do a liver function test on Rachel Reid, please?

-Why?

-Spotted a couple of things that bothered me.

-Such as?

Signs of palmar erythema, possible nail clubbing.

-Didn't know you majored in haematology.

-My PhD's in the post.

-Seriously, I'm impressed.

-So can I do the test, then?

-No.

-Why not?

You've got other patients to look after. If you're concerned, she can go to her GP and get a referral.

-She really needs...

-I'll tell her, if you like.

-No. No, thanks.

Finished?

He sacked me.

He's taken on someone else.

-Have you signed the, er...?

-I've got more important things to think about than a stupid operation.

This is all her fault.

-Who?

-You try and be a friend to her.

You try and look out for someone

and all they do is take your time and your money.

-Let's get you prepped for theatre.

-OK.

-What's that for?

-Just some tests the doctor ordered.

How come you let him diss you like that?

I can handle him, thanks.

Anyone talked to me like that, I'd chew their face off.

I'll bear that one in mind.

-I don't mean you.

-What d'you do for work, Rachel?

Work's for losers.

-Thank you very much(!)

-Not being a nurse, that's a proper job.

-Mm-hm.

-I mean working for minimum wage in a scummy burger bar,

getting felt up by your pervert boss.

-Never thought about a "proper job" then?

-Oh, aye, yeah, like that's going to happen.

-You never know.

-I thought you were a laugh.

Don't turn into a social worker on me.

-Happy New Year.

-Let's hope so.

-You text me?

Yes, I've had a tip-off that the turnaround team

have been planting various secret shoppers around the hospital.

-Right.

-Including one up on Darwin.

-Why?

-Obviously they want to make sure we're keeping Joseph Public happy before next week's decision.

-Have you got any idea who could it be?

-No.

-Well, if I find out, I shall roll their questionnaire up and...

-Actually,

I would prefer it if you treat the current crop of patients

-as if they were minor members of the Royal Family.

-If you insist.

I know it's utterly tedious, but I don't want to give them even a shred of an excuse to turn us down.

Understood.

I knew it would be.

Gott nytt ar.

Happy new year.

-Excellent.

-So is this just a New Year's treat or...?

No, no, first of many.

Good to know.

Great to finally find someone I can form a proper partnership with.

Yeah?

Someone solid.

Solid?

-MACHINE BEEPS

-Her heart's in trouble. Damn.

-Echo machine, please.

-And could you page Cardiothoracics?

-We don't know what the problem is yet.

-Just in case.

-I'm sure we can deal with this ourselves.

KNOCK AT DOOR Come in.

You wanted to see me.

What's that?

-Mr Evans's treatment sheets.

-How much heparin did you prescribe him?

-One milligram per kilo.

-Look again.

-It says ten.

-You're trying to coin a new phrase?

-Eh?

"Blood is thinner than water."

-I don't know how...

-Luckily, one of the nurses spotted it.

-Really?

-Otherwise the guy could've bled to death.

-I'm sorry.

-What is wrong with you?

-It's...

Please don't.

It's Annie.

-Who?

-My fiance.

-Oh, God.

-She broke it off with me! No reasons, nothing!

Really?

Look, look, I'll promise I'll try and concentrate.

-Trying doesn't cut it with me.

-No more mistakes, all right?

You're starting to look like one big mistake.

Are you going to put this on my record?

-No.

-So I can...

-Just spend the rest of the day in the wet lab.

-Right.

-You're no use to me in theatre like this anyway.

-Thank you.

You're welcome.

It's not true what they say about you.

You want to bet?

PAGER BEEPS

-It's a pericardial effusion.

-Good job we paged Cardiothoracics.

-She just needs a centesis.

-They'll be here shortly.

-I can do it.

-Think it's best we wait.

-I thought you said I was leading in this operation.

-You are.

-So isn't it my decision to make?

-What about the risk of...?

-Perforation of the cardiac chambers, damage to the lung and liver?

-I know all that.

-Not to mention potential damage to the myocardium.

-So can I do it or not?

-You're the boss.

-Introducer, please.

-Just in time.

-What seems to be the problem, ladies?

Patient tamponading with an effusion of the pericardium.

-You want to take over?

-The Boy Wonder seems to be doing just fine.

Guide wire, please.

Thank you.

-Done.

-Nice work.

Drain, please.

I guess this counts as a high-octane case down in bone-cruncher land(!)

-Could you give her a once over soon as we're done, please?

-My pleasure.

-OK, if I finish off?

-Fill your boots.

-Did you put Rachel Reid on 15-minute obs?

-Yeah.

You realise her core temp is up 1.2 degrees in the last 45 minutes?

-Has it?

-I said it shouldn't

-go up more than one degree in an hour.

-I know.

You also know the risks... What's this?

-Rachel's LFT results.

-So that's what you've been doing.

-Just read it.

It takes 20 or 30 years to inflict this sort of damage.

You still want to discharge her?

-I can't say when you'll get your results.

-Why not?

-It's New Year's Day,

things are a little slow round here.

-Is that why you've been missing in action?

-I have other patients.

-Is he on your back again?

-I beg your pardon?

-Calm down, you'll have a real heart attack.

-That's enough.

-You must have the patience of a saint.

I would like to make an official complaint!

-Ooh, I've just soiled myself.

-No-one's making any complaints.

D'you realise 15 to 30% of coronaries are caused by stress?

-I should be due one any minute, then.

-OK, gentlemen, do you mind

if I steal Mr Douglas away for a second?

-What are you gawping at?

-I don't know, the label has fallen off.

-You're kidding me.

-No.

-Any idea who?

-None whatsoever.

-Brilliant(!)

-Look, you're going to have to put a smile on that face and keep it there.

If you think I'm sucking up to the likes of that old woman...

-Come on, please.

-My head's banging as it is.

-I AM your hero, remember?

I could murder a cigarette!

Hiya, it's me. there's no answer at the flat, where are you?

D'you get your leg fixed?

You won't believe where I am. text me.

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

What?

Nurse McKee, could you please explain to Rachel

what this particularly unattractive object is?

It's a section of damaged liver.

Taken from the body of a dead wino.

-So?

-So that's where you're heading, soon,

-if you don't give up the booze.

-I don't have to listen to this.

-Fine.

-Where are you going?

-For a pee.

No-one wants you to give up immediately. There are people you can talk to.

-I had all that at school.

-At school?

-From some fat cow who was an alky herself.

-He's serious about the liver damage.

-Who's side are you on?

-Yours.

-I thought you couldn't stand him.

Rachel, you need help.

-Any joy?

-Yeah, she's off to speak to AA right now(!)

If she doesn't want our help, there's nothing we can do.

You're all heart(!)

-Tracey Dawes has got a PFO?

-You haven't forgotten everything I taught you then?

-No.

-What's the news?

-I need her in theatre today.

-Right.

-Can you sort out the transfer for me?

-No problem.

-Can you check the ankle over for me first?

-Of course.

-Would it be OK if I borrowed Valentine for Tracy Dawes's op?

-Why?

-I'm struggling for numbers.

-How come?

-Lost an F2 earlier.

-Sacking or resignation?

-No comment.

-He's needed down here.

-He knows the case inside out.

-He's not a library book.

Good morning, Miss Mulligan, how's the shoulder?

Just stamp the time you want him back on his forehead and I'll make sure he arrives in one piece.

-I don't want him unsettled.

-You're not putting your cocker spaniel into kennels for the weekend.

Fine, take him. That settled down nicely.

Thanks. How are his carpentry skills getting along?

You saw him leading in theatre this morning.

-I thought that was just the centesis.

-No, he's ready for it.

Always nice when an idiot finds his village.

-He's got a chance to make a mark down here.

-Let's hope a trip upstairs doesn't turn his head.

-I doubt it.

-You think he's happy, do you?

-I know he is.

-With the hacksaws and the monkey wrenches?

The progress he's made has been nothing short of astounding.

Bit like praising Einstein for coming top of the remedial class.

-Not to mention how well his research project's going.

-What project?

The one he started with you, on Darwin.

It was inter-disciplinary, so he transferred it to my department. Excuse me.

-I believe you're a man who can.

-Can what?

-Help cure a filthy little habit of mine.

-Too much information, pal.

-I woke up this morning with a gob like an ashtray and thought,

-"Enough is enough."

-Not another one.

-Another what?

Invertebrate looking for a quick fix.

I just thought, you know, while you were here.

-Come on.

-I've had a heart attack.

-Fair point.

-Where's the respect?

-I'll leave you in peace.

-That's all I'm after.

Some acknowledgement that this is actually my job.

-Is that respectful enough?

-It's a start.

Doctor? I just want to know whether it's angina or something worse.

I'll be back.

Yes, Mr Cruickshank. Let's take a look.

-Another operation?

-You've been very lucky.

-What?

-We found a defect in an arterial wall of your heart.

Undetected, it could have been very dangerous.

-How long will I be in here?

-There's no reason why you won't make a full recovery in time.

I haven't got time, I need to work.

-You need to look after your health for now.

-I've got a kid.

-I'm sure you'll be able to get help with that.

-From who?

-There'll be other jobs.

-What other jobs? I work in a chippie.

Do you know how many people went for that interview? If I'm on the sick, I can't pay my rent.

-Sorry, I didn't...

-Haven't got a clue, have you?

No... Probably not.

You'll be in good hands on Darwin. The care's excellent up there.

And Jac Naylor...

..she's the best around, believe me.

-What do you call a monkey with a stick of dynamite?

-A ba-boom!

A monkey with a stick of dynamite?

-Dr Gold.

-Yes?

-Hello, Elliot Hope.

-Oh, hey. I've heard a lot about you.

-Not all of it bad, I hope.

-No.

You've just got back from the Ukraine.

Yes, yes.

So, how are you finding life under Ms Naylor?

-Doing my best to impress her, but...

-She's a hard taskmaster.

She's got high standards and I'm failing to live up to them.

You know, when I was away, I heard a folk tale, it might help you.

Sounds fascinating.

It's about the Zeidl the Faithful, who was this peasant.

He was on his farm one day when the Lord came down from above

and showed Zeidl this huge rock

and said, "Zeidl, push against that rock with all your might until I order you to stop."

So, Zeidl rolled up his sleeves,

flexed his muscles - they weren't very big at that time -

and started to push against the rock.

he pushed and he pushed and he pushed.

Years and years went by. Finally, Zeidl said,

"Lord, I'm sorry. I've failed to move that rock even an inch."

And God said, "I didn't ask you to MOVE the rock, just to push it."

"Look at your muscles, you're stronger than all the other peasants.

"This is the reward for your obedience."

-So is the rock my fiance?

-Sorry?

-Ms Naylor told you what happened?

-About what?

Nothing. It doesn't matter.

-So you do understand what I was saying about the...?

-Absolutely.

Good.

Moskovskaya? I'll put it there.

-I've enjoyed our little chat.

-Me, too.

Rachel, there's someone here who'd like a word with you.

-Her name's Judith.

-Word about what?

Your drinking.

-I told you to forget it.

-I know you did.

So you can tell Judith to get lost.

What is wrong with you?

Keep your beak out! I'm not some charity case.

-I don't need your help!

-Just talk to her.

-No!

-Do have you any idea how sick you really are?

-I don't want to hear it.

-Please, for me.

-Why?

-So it doesn't look like I've wasted her time.

-Do you want me to tell you what I'm going to do?

Go on, surprise me.

-Cheers!

-No chance! Rachel, give me it. Give it to me!

-You stupid cow!

-What's going on?

-Nothing for you to worry about.

-You think you can stop me?

I booked a psych consult.

This got alcohol in it? Mmm! Mmm! Lovely!

You're making a fool of yourself, Rachel.

-Stop it, just stop it.

-Don't touch me!

-You OK?

-Yeah, I'm fine. I said, "I'm fine."

I told you to leave me alone.

-You ordered a consult without her consent?

-I was trying to help her.

Nice job.

I'll go and get a dustpan and brush.

Jac Naylor wants you to assist on Tracy Dawes's op.

-Really?

-Afraid so.

-What d'you think?

-I can spare you for an hour.

-Right.

-She's only short-staffed because she sacked her last F2 or he walked or...

-Another one?

-If she starts playing mind games, just ignore her.

-I always do.

-I like to think I'm a pretty reasonable guy.

-Totally.

But I can't have you pulling against me like you were in theatre.

-No.

-I let you lead because I respect you.

-And I...

-I need to feel it's reciprocated.

It is.

This is not CT and I am not Jac Naylor.

She's got much better legs.

Ready to fix another shoulder?

As I'll ever be.

Good man.

-Right, see what we've got here. Ready?

-Yeah.

One, two, three...

Good work, partner. Broad arm sling and get him into recovery please.

OK, look, I admit I got it wrong.

Got what wrong?

Will you have another go talking to her?

What makes you think she'll listen?

-Throw a few horror stories her way.

-More horrific than this?

-Please.

I'll think about it.

Thanks.

-I'll think about it.

-Thanks.

You're at the bottom of the steps now.

The sun feels warm on your face.

You can feel the sand under your feet.

You want to rest. You want to sleep.

Your eyes slowly close. That's it.

Sleep... Sleep.

-Is he..?

-Yeah.

-Can he hear us?

-No.

-OK. So what happens now, then?

I crawl into his subconscious and make him give up fags.

Right.

Can you ask him to do something else while you're there?

-Are you taking the..?

-No, no. Please?

-What?

SHE WHISPERS

So what d'you think?

20 quid.

-Sorry. I've got a bit of a temper on me.

-Never(!)

-Can't stand being told what to do.

-Who can?

Rachel, I wanted to clarify the implications of end-stage liver disease with you.

I don't want to see any more stuff in jars.

You realise it's the point at which the liver finally loses its regenerative powers,

leaving either transplant or death as your two remaining options.

I take it you're still not interested in counselling of any kind?

-No.

-If you change your mind but feel you're not capable of curtailing your drinking,

there is another option.

A colleague of mine is conducting clinical trials on an anti-alcohol stomach implant.

-What?

-It's not yet licensed in the UK, but he's already got a number of patients.

I've just spoken to him and he's willing to come and talk to you about signing up.

-A stomach implant?

-What, like an operation?

It would involve minor abdominal surgery, yeah.

-You are actually mental, aren't you?

-I wanted to make sure you're aware...

Think I'm going to let you lot slice me open?

-Not against your will, obviously.

-As if!

-Shall I take that as a no?

-Yeah.

-Fine.

-What was that? Clinical trials?

-Do you know Guy Forster?

-Who?

-Guy Forster, hepatology.

-Never heard of him.

-He's a fellow Fellow.

-Oh, he's in the club.

-The implant trial is his baby.

I thought you'd try and scare her into counselling.

-I wanted to offer an alternative.

-Why?

-You asked me to help.

Help your mate and his project?

Until she decides to make changes, it's all academic anyway.

I know how frightening any kind of chest pain must be, but I promise you,

angina is completely manageable with the right medication.

and I tell you another thing.

Once you're home, if you're worried about anything,

and I mean anything, just can call me for a chinwag.

-That's much appreciated, Doctor.

-Call me Greg.

-Thank you, Greg.

My pleasure, Martin. my pleasure.

Orange juice, please.

Soon as Rachel Reid's temperature is back to normal, I think we should discharge her.

-Well, I think we should keep her in overnight.

-We need the bed.

-Under observation.

-No.

-Exposure.

-Yeah, right(!)

-I really just want to make sure...

-We're not Social Services.

-Yeah, I know that.

-Sorry.

-I'll get that.

-There's no need.

There you go.

-Thank you very much. How kind.

-Got me to thank for that.

-I beg your pardon?

-Forget it.

-That is one unpleasant little man.

-Should have told him to wring your neck.

-What did he say?

-Hey, Doc...

-Yeah?

-I don't feel very...

-Sahira!

-Crash team, now!

Rachel, are you decent?

Rachel!

Charge to one hundred.

Clear.

Charge again.

Well done. Congratulations(!)

That doesn't sound promising.

-She's gone.

-Who?

-Rachel.

-Where?

-I've no idea.

-Are you sure she's...

You scared her away with all that implant crap.

You are aware we're in public?

-I could have got through to her in the end.

-No, you couldn't.

How d'you know that? Oh, because you're a Fellow and a genius and...

A black belt at karate, yep.

We could have helped her, Luke.

The state you were in this morning, you could barely help yourself.

What?

Forget it.

No, no, go on.

Well, it's not ideal when the patients can still smell booze on your breath.

Oh, wow.

SHE LAUGHS

That's what this is all about, isn't it?

You don't like the way that I run my life.

Unless it affects your work...

But there is NOTHING that you can do about it.

You could spend your evenings superglueing kittens to bicycles, for all I care.

So you decided to it out on Rachel instead,

just because you spent New Year's Eve with your nose buried in a book...

Actually, you interrupted a particularly filthy orgy.

-..while the rest of us were out there living.

-Or in Rachel Reid's case - dying.

I'm talking about me now.

If the cap fits... What are you so afraid of, Luke?

-Afraid of?

-I really want to know.

False teeth...

Cos it might help me understand

why you are such an uptight, arrogant arse.

Good luck with that.

Charge again...and clear.

BEEPING

Charge to 360.

Stand clear.

BEEPING

He's gone.

He had three heart attacks. We had to wait for the CABG, you can't predict these things.

We'll be taking you up to Darwin soon.

Yeah?

I'll be assisting in theatre, so you'll have a familiar face.

Good.

Are you OK?

I'm having a ball(!)

Who's this?

She's the reason I'm in this mess.

It was an accident.

-Have you been back to the flat?

-No.

I'll give you a minute.

-What happened to your shoes?

-What's with all the wires?

I can't believe it's taken you till now to visit me.

I tried, but... Been with that lad all night?

-No.

-Your neck says different.

Been in hospital myself, actually.

What?

With exposure. I nearly froze to death.

Yeah, right(!)

Looking for you and then I fell over and...

Well, I'm fine now, anyway.

I got the sack, cos I didn't turn up for work this morning.

Did you tell him what happened?

He didn't care.

-He can't just sack you.

-He already has.

-The miserable...

-Why did you have to get so ratted?

It's not my fault your boss is a tosser.

This would never have happened.

-He can't just sack you.

-Well, he has.

I've no money now.

You need to get that job back.

What are you talking about?

-You need to go down there and persuade him.

-I can't.

-Why not?

-I'm not very well.

-I'll take you.

-No.

-I'll look after you.

-He wouldn't change his mind, anyway.

We go back, get you clothes and I'll have you back here in an hour.

Please, Rach.

-Quicker than an ambulance.

-I don't want to.

-What will we do for money, otherwise?

-I don't know.

-These just peel off.

-Get off!

Do you want us to get evicted?

No.

Well, then.

We've got no choice.

I'll get you a wheelchair.

-Doctor.

-Yes, Martin.

-How long is that cadaver going to be lying there?

-The porter's taking him away now.

-Good.

It's giving me the willies.

Any chance of showing a little respect for the dead?

He didn't show much respect for me.

-Yeah. Even so...

-Fair point.

-Oh, pen's run out.

-Here, have mine.

-Gasping for a cuppa.

-Milk and sugar?

A patient dies and all you're bothered about is tea?

Don't speak to him like that.

Where are you going?

None of your business.

-What are you playing at?

-Getting out of here.

-Neither of you are in a fit state to go anywhere.

-We're fine.

-Come back to the ward, Rachel.

-For another lecture?

-No.

We need to get there before he knocks off.

-Going back down the pub?

-What do you know?

-Has she told you her news?

-Shut up!

-She's heading for liver failure.

-Ignore her.

-The doctor said the next drink could kill her.

-What?

Is there something wrong with you?

-Rachel?

-Take no notice of her.

-If you're any kind of friend, tell her to stop now.

-I'm not.

What?

I'm her...

-Mum!

-Mum?

-What's up with her?

-Can we get some help here, please?

-What's going on?

When Rod Evans put you in a trance, I asked him to make you treat Martin like royalty.

Now he's dead and you're still under hypnosis. I am so sorry.

-Unless it never worked in the first place.

-What?

You naughty girl.

You are evil, Greg Douglas. Pure evil.

I'll take that as a compliment.

She never said she needed a heart operation.

Well, she does.

I wouldn't have taken her out if I'd known.

So you're her daughter?

Yeah.

Will she be OK?

I don't know. Let's go.

-Rachel.

-I want that operation.

-What?

-The implant. I want it.

-You can't.

-My mum needs me.

When I said "sort yourself out", I didn't mean...

-Are you sure this isn't just a knee-jerk response?

-Will you do it?

-I'll have to speak to my colleague.

-Phone him now.

-They're just using you, Rachel.

-I don't care.

-You need counselling.

I just need it in me today, so I can stop.

-I didn't say it could be today.

-What?

-These things can take months to set up.

I can't wait months.

I'll go back on the vodka, I know I will.

My hands are tied.

-What about my mum?

-You're wasting your time, Rachel, he won't listen.

I can't do it on my own.

-Which is why you need proper help.

-I'm begging you.

The sooner we set this up, the sooner you'll be able to...

No... There's no point.

HE SIGHS

-You love this, don't you?

-Hmm?

-Playing God.

-It's just like a big game of chess to you.

-Call me Boris Spassky.

What d'you know about any of it, anyway?

You don't live in the real world, you don't even drink.

Or is that it?

You've got a problem with booze because you're an ex-alkie.

I'm right, aren't I?

Ideally, we'd go to bypass, remove the clot and stitch the PFO,

but that could exacerbate the TIA, so what's our alternative?

Just give me a second.

-Try something old school.

-Like what?

Come on.

Not an inflow occlusion?

Now you're talking.

That's so old school it's practically medieval.

It's a once in a lifetime chance to have a crack at a classic.

-Yes, but we'd only have a three-minute window.

-So?

Never seen one up close before.

IVC clamp, SVC clamp, open right atrium, clot out, stitch the PFO.

-What could be easier?

-Great.

Get on with it, then.

Sorry?

You're going to lead.

Really?

-You just led in Keller, didn't you?

-Yes, but...

-But what?

-Nothing.

-Or was that just Mickey Mouse surgery?

-No.

Whereas this is the real deal. This is life and death.

Fine, I'll lead.

Just remember, once you're in, three minutes, not a second longer.

-OK.

-Ready?

As I'll ever be.

Start the clock.

Bag her, 100% oxygen and give her half the dose of heparin.

HE EXHALES PAINFULLY

Martin? Martin?!

The clot's out.

Yes. I can see that. Quickly with the Cooley clamp.

OK, take out the IVC clamp.

-Damn.

-What's the problem?

Must be some tear in the atrium.

Solution?

-Erm...I can't put the IVC back in.

-I didn't ask what you can't do.

Erm...

Think, Ollie, come on.

-What about a Blalock clamp?

-Brilliant. Right, Blalock clamp.

We're running out of time here. Quickly.

Take off SVC clamp. Slowly, slowly, slowly.

Stop the clock.

No bleed.

Atta boy.

Three-oh prolene, please.

-I'll take over now.

-Course.

Enjoy that?

What do you think?

Your lord and master's been on asking when I'm sending you back to Keller.

-You better get down there.

-Yeah.

-He's obviously pining for you.

-Right.

You know, I might have been a bit hard on you orthopods.

Let's face it, he's handed you La Dolce Vita on a plate.

I mean, up here, it's all life or death stuff,

split-second decisions, breaking bad news.

All that stress, you're never far from a heart attack yourself.

No.

But you and Danny Boy, you've got it sussed.

You get people walking again and send them home with a smile on their face.

Then, off to the golf course for 18 holes and a round of shandies.

Since you put it like that...

Truth be told, I envy you.

See you around then.

Not if I see you first.

-Looks like it was another angina attack.

-Are you sure?

The spray's done the trick, so...

-Definitely not a heart attack?

-Not even a murmur.

I thought I was joining that obnoxious sod at the Pearly Gates.

We did tell you to stay in bed.

-I was told to go and get my own tea.

-No harm done, eh?

I think I'd like to be left alone now, please.

-What are you scribbling in that little book of yours?

-It's private.

I hope he's not the shopper.

Dark Lord, 12 o'clock.

Identified our spy in the camp yet?

No.

Don't worry, we've buttered them all up like prize turkeys.

I hope you've been leading the charm offensive.

It's a team effort.

The old pincer movement.

-So everyone's happy?

-As Larry.

-Let's keep it that way.

-Sure.

You're a better liar than I thought.

She was 37 last week.

You know she's never been on a plane?

Never had a job that paid more than a few quid an hour.

She's never had a fellow that could be arsed to stick around.

And she's been lumbered with me ruining her life since she was 13.

I hate the way she just keeps going...

..like some stupid toy that, when you knock down, it just keeps bouncing back up.

That's not living.

I watch her sometimes and I think, "Please don't let me turn into that."

Look at her poor face.

Your mum's had a major heart surgery

and she's going to need a lot of help from now on, Rachel.

-Naylor out of theatre yet?

-Not sure.

No next of kin on the hypnotist's paperwork. Thought I'd better look for a number in his stuff.

-Wonder what he's writing now.

-Who?

Mr Cruickshank.

You are kidding me.

What?

This belongs to Rod Evans.

-No.

-Yes.

But...

-It was the dead man what done it.

-What about?

HE SNORES

Where are you going?

Just need to...borrow a few quid.

I'll pay you back.

-Oh!

-What?

They're drawings of me and you.

What kind of drawings?

Inappropriate ones.

-OK, let me have a look.

-No.

-Let me have a look.

Where? Where? It's just a shopping list.

2-0.

PHONE RINGS

AAU... OK, yeah, I'm on my way.

I'm sorry, Mum, I'm so sorry.

Get off!!

It's all right, I've got it.

RACHEL SOBS

Oh, Rachel.

I'm going to stop, I promise. I'm going to look after her.

Good girl.

How'd it go?

Fine. She's up on Darwin HDU.

-Ms Naylor welcome you back with open arms, did she?

-Something like that.

I was going to nip down to physio, push a few weights, if you fancy it?

-No, thanks.

-Right, then.

-Dan.

-Yeah?

What happened up there? She got to you, didn't she?

I want a transfer back.

-What?

-I'm sorry.

Just like that, no discussion?

-It's where I belong.

-I disagree.

-I knew you would.

-You have a gift.

For CT.

If you jump ship, that's it.

You understand?

You're wrong, you know.

I may be many things, but one thing I've never been is an alcoholic.

Well, never trust a teetotaller, that's what my dad always said.

-Why are you so threatened by the fact that I don't drink?

-I'm not threatened.

-All right, irritated.

-I don't like Puritans.

You really need to stop projecting the anxieties you have about your own lifestyle choices onto me.

Spare me the psych consult, yeah?

-The same goes for your inverted snobbery about my education.

-Don't know what you mean.

-You've got a chip on your shoulder the size of Birkenhead.

-Actually, I'm from Yorkshire.

Your provenance not withstanding, don't speak to me like that again.

OK, cards on the table. The occlusion sold it to me.

I'm a CT man, not a joints man. I want back in.

I want to come back to you.

Oh, how sweet.

Sorry.

I thought you're an F2 down.

Whatever gave you that idea?

How's the research project going?

-Well...

-Could it still be refocused on CT?

I don't see why not.

Mr Gold.

On reflection, I don't think our relationship is going to work out.

What? Why?

I just can't shake the image of you crying like a little girl.

I'll make sure you're matched up with a more sensitive mentor.

There was no need for that.

-Oh, you don't want the job? Fine, I'll go and get him.

-No.

No.

Well, that's all right, then.

Have you ever lost a patient on New Year's Day before?

He's down on Jac Naylor's scorecard, not ours.

But it's a bad start.

Things can only get better.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Depends what you're thinking.

Hemingway!

That's my name.

Look, this isn't working, is it?

-What isn't working?

-Me and you.

Is there a me and you?

One of us has got to go.

Have they?

And it ain't going to be the intellectual,

well-connected Fellow, is it?

Really?

I've got a week's holiday coming up.

When I get back, I'll ask to be transferred to a different ward.

Playing the martyr card?

No, I just... I can't stand any more of...

..of you.

Say what you mean, why don't you(?)

I'm sure the feeling is very, very mutual.

Is it?

So, we're agreed then?

Well, if that's how you feel.

-Yeah, it is.

-Well, there's nothing else to say.

No.

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