Forgive Me Father Holby City

-I know what I'm doing.

-Just stop! Stop!

-Let go or I'll call security!

-Zoshi? Hey.

-71.

-75.

-Have you lost your mind?

Sold! To the surgeon with brooding Mediterranean looks.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

It's been three years since my last confession.

I have bad thoughts, Father. Thoughts about hurting a man...

a colleague...

Hurting?

..or killing, really, Father. I thought...

I think...about killing him.

MUSIC: Lovely Day by Bill Withers

-Bummer. Not having much luck with that car. Need a hand?

-No. I'm good.

-What's the problem?

-Well, I don't know...yet!

Bet it's the cylinder cap.

If the filler head is coated with a sort of white gunge,

then it's a warped head.

Yeah, bit of a design flaw, to be honest.

I mean, that's why I didn't go gang-busters on it at the auction.

You didn't...?

Guess I just got lucky.

# A lovely day, lovely day... #

Where are my clothes?

What? Oh, I did a wash.

Ah, I did a few washes actually.

But I left something on your bed.

Yeah, I found it, um...

Her room is disgusting.

Oh, yeah, it suits you.

I found the source of the stench.

-It's one of Jesse's T-shirts.

-Yeah, but what's inside it?

-Curry?

-Er, you hope.

You know what? Never thought I would say this,

but I am so enjoying her not being here at the moment.

-So is she still staying at her dad's?

-Far as I know. Yeah.

-Perfect.

-Peace.

You go... You...

Oh, yep. Hmm. What is that?

-What have you got round your face? Mucky mole!

-Stop it...

DOOR CLOSES

Morning. Er, cappuccino, please.

Is that your baby? She's lovely.

Aw, thank you! Um, name's Emma.

-Babe magnet.

-Hardly.

-Like wasps to a picnic.

What, two women checking out his baby photos?

-They're checking out something, all right.

-He's not ready.

Ready or not, pretty soon he's going to have zero choice -

-that whole wounded single-father thing...

-He's still grieving.

..like catnip.

Nice talking to you.

Morning.

Believe me, I know what it's like getting your heart broken.

-Is it just clothes, or...?

-Um...

-How long's she staying with you?

Well, I think she's too exhausted to study so...

Getting your heart ripped out your chest

and stood on by a man is pretty exhausting.

Yes, well, she collapsed last night.

Well, early hours of this morning,

actually, not so early.

Underwear. Is there, um...?

I wouldn't know. Maybe try this one...

-Ah, there you go.

-Oh, right.

I thought you said she hadn't been drinking?

Ah, yeah. No. Well, no more than...

Yeah, a bit. Like I said, she'd been drowning her...

So what's the time frame on her stay with you?

Well, she's shattered,

so I just wanted to come round here and...get some of her things.

She should take as long as she needs.

She won't be going to work today.

If you read the Framework Policy...

-You've read the Framework Policy?!

-Yes. Haven't you?

-What? All of it?

To understand how the legislation is being put into practice.

When do you get time to read the whole Framework Policy?

When everyone else is asleep.

Right, you do know you have an important clinical skills project..

-Test me.

-What?

-On anything - anything I'm supposed to have read.

OK, look...this isn't me,

-you know, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything.

-Anything. Come on.

OK. What's the surface markings of a posterior tibial artery?

Halfway between the posterior border of the medial malleolus

-and the anterior border of the tendon Achilles.

-Very good.

-Next.

Describe the course of a parotid duct?

It follows an imaginary line between the tragus and the philtrum

-until it enters the mouth near the second molar tooth.

-Very good.

-Excellent.

-Next.

-No, no, no. That's excellent. That's absolutely enough.

Now, look. This...is Nigel Timpson. OK?

Mr Timpson is suffering from very severe abdominal pains.

Now, we have no way of treating him because he's also hyper allergenic

and St James's Special Allergies Unit drew a blank. So...

-No-one knows what's wrong with you?

-I'm a mystery.

I don't deny, being a widower did make me a sort of, um,

target for some women. I was broken.

And they wanted to mend you?

And feed me.

Honestly, the number of casseroles that friends, neighbours,

women I hardly knew, brought round.

So they were attracted to your vulnerability?

Something about a man who's hurting inside.

Yeah, so how long before you...?

-I, er...?

-You know...um...

..stuck your head out the trench?

Um, climbed back in the saddle?

Oh. Long, long, long time.

-Weren't you lonely?

-I had my work...um...

I have a lecture to deliver at St James's. I'll be away all day.

You, nursey, big fat surprise.

What things do I hate the most?

That's a pretty big list. How long have we got?

Managers, drugs reps, puy lentils, British wine, whiners, Americans,

-the French, any pastry with a French name.

-Idiots.

SHOUTING

-Hello, lovers!

-Awright!

-Idiots...

We did good. That was one spleen I never thought we'd salvage.

-You did good.

-It's teamwork.

-What?

-You know, when I see you in there,

knife and fork in hand, doing what you do,

frankly, and I don't say this often, I'm in awe...

Thanks, Mr Griffin, your praise...

-..but...

-Ouch! There's a but?!

..knife and fork skills, fellowships,

that's only half this job.

It is teamwork. You're part of a ward.

Thank you. Part of a department. Part of a Trust.

Of course. I don't quite see...

While I'm in Ghana, I need you to focus on how to manage people.

Is that for me? Thank you.

I like to think that I look after my team.

I need you to learn how to manage Dr Tressler better.

-Has he complained?

-Watch out.

Harry Tressler complained about me?

He's a Registrar now. You helped to make him one.

-Yeah, I know, that was...

-So treat him like one.

He wants more autonomy,. more responsibility.

-I don't think he's ready.

-I think he's ready.

-If you like, I could show you all my scars.

-Scars?

We'll go to my office and I show you all my battle scars,.

where I've gone head-to-head with Registrars,

and Consultants, Directors of Surgery, CEOs...

-I respect your authority, but I...

-This isn't about pulling rank.

I'm just trying to suggest that some battles aren't worth fighting.

Tressler and I, that isn't a battle.

-Isn't it?

-No, it's not.

You know, Raf, you're gold dust. As far as AAU surgeons go,

you're innovative, you're forward-thinking,

-you're brilliant.

-Thank you.

I would hate you to take your eye off what the real work is here.

-I won't.

-So...

I won't need to worry that your wife has asked for a transfer

out of your department?

-No.

-But...

-You completely cocked-up my oesophageal replacement

-and made me look a right...

-Prat.

Yes. Thank you. And goodbye.

Not you! Him! He's the prat

cos he's gone and got himself in a bit of medical bother again.

-I got myself in?

-OK...you had help.

-I don't care.

Oh, don't be such a she-beast!

-What did you call me?

-A...she beast.

But for Pan's sake, just have a look at him.

No, no, no, no, you don't examine him.

If you examine him, he becomes our patient.

And then we have the situation all day where we're...

Oh...my...God.

She's Friesian.

THEY MOO

THEY GRUNT AND SNORT

-Penicillin?

-Yes.

-Paracetemol?

-Yes.

-Peanuts?

-Of course.

-Lactose?

-And fructose.

-Gluten?

-Oh, please.

-Soya?

-Makes me sweat and retch.

-Aspartame?

-Gives me hives.

-Pollen?

-Asthma.

Is there anything else you're allergic to?

Haven't even scratched the surface. Honey.

Please don't call me Honey.

No. Honey. Honey gives me skin boils.

And fabric conditioner,

fabric softener, wash powder - bio and non-bio -

house dust, house mites,

er, foam bath, foam pillows, kapok.

I do not know what you stuff in these things,

but I can feel my eyeballs itch.

Basically, you name it, I'm allergic to it.

-Cow tags.

-Stag do.

-Cocktails.

-Creme de menthe and advocaat.

-Class.

-Blacked-out. Woke up.

-# Ta-da! #

-Tagged.

-Wicked.

Does hurt, though, like I just stuck me Bilbo Baggins in a cattle crush.

Funnily enough, we did think of cow-tagging his Baggins too. Only...

Stop! Please. Hold on.

Whose stag do?

Me. Sorry, you missed your chance, my little fire queen.

-Some poor girl has actually agreed to marry you?

-Heidi.

Proper lush. Lovely.

'Bout as much sense of humour as a badger on crack.

-Get them out.

-No, no. We...

No, no, no. Not on my ward. On your bike.

It's not like we're...

Can we get help here, please?

So you are professionally unchallenged in your role

-and you feel that's my fault?

-Professionally unchallenged is...

So much so that you go and complain to Mr Griffin?

Look, let's just take a look at my current stock, shall we?

Mrs Pollard, a verruca. No, actually that's not true.

A nest of verrucas. Infected, yes.

But still verrucas, nonetheless.

Mr Taylor, a 75-year-old with a urinary tract infection.

Mrs Smallwood, an 83-year-old with a urinary tract infection.

And finally, the piece de resistance,

an ingrown toenail with a possible vascular compromise.

Oooh, exciting(!)

-We take what the ED pass on to us because that is...

-Yeah.

And you take anything interesting.

Meanwhile I, even though I'm now a fully-fledged registrar,

who came 15th in the National Examinations,

I have to beg for the crumbs under your table.

Look, I think you and I both know what this is really about.

Isn't it time we put what happened behind us?

You complained to Griffin.

-Even Amy can't work with you.

-Don't.

Your wife asked for a transfer out of your ward.

I got my first rash at about 16.

Rash at 16. Right. And where exactly was that?

So much for her being exhausted.

If only.

Well, she bounced in, bright as a button...early.

-Early?

-Yeah, she was already here when I got here.

It's just that she's taken this thing with Jesse rather badly.

Well, she's totally raring to go.

So I put her on Mr Allergy. He'll keep her guessing.

'So what are we thinking here?'

A mini stroke? Has anything like this ever happened to you before?

Er, last time, we had menu cards.

-We need to do an echo and an ECG.

-No, he's right.

Choice for lunch and tea, had to tick boxes with our selection.

-If we didn't tick no boxes...

-Didn't get no grub. I'm starving.

-I want to know about any fluctuations.

-I want to know about lunch.

Yeah, and me. We got to tick those boxes, Jim Bob.

Do you want me to arrange getting those ear tags taken out?

No. Let's see what's wrong with his heart first.

So, catch-up time. Who's doing it with who now, then?

Last time Jonny was doing it with scary Dr Jac.

-Oh, and time before that...

-Mo weren't doing it with no-one.

Yeah, but you was on the radio. Sorting out old men's haemorrhoids.

-Yeah, well, nothing much has changed there.

-Still with Morticia?

Um, will you just leave it, yeah?

You're joking, ain't you? This is like a live episode of Doctors.

-Don't go there.

-He-llo? I 'aven't got Where Angels Fear To Tread tattooed on me buttocks for nothing.

Thought you 'ad Young Farmers Do It In Wellies?

-Figure of speech, mate.

-Just leave it.

No. It really doesn't matter.

Ms Naylor and I had a baby together, Emma, and then we broke up.

And then I became engaged to another nurse, and then she died.

Snap! I got engaged.

-Not a nurse, though.

-No.

Cos that'd be cool. Heidi isn't.

Bad luck, though. The breaking up and dying bit.

Not ideal, no.

I'm still single.

For you.

OK, I think we're done.

Well, you won't be kick-boxing for a little while,

but you'll feel a lot more comfortable.

Right, um, I've finished cutting around

-and cauterising Mrs Pollard's verrucas.

-Good.

-Now I'm on to my urinary tract infection.

-Harry, I'd like to...

-What? Come to rub my nose in it?

-I'd like to apologise.

I'm sorry. You were right... to complain.

Mr Griffin and I agree, you should be given greater autonomy

and responsibility in choice and treatment of patients in AAU.

Are you a Cyborg clone of Mr Di Lucca?

Cos if you are, you're not a very good one.

-I mean it.

-Prove it.

OK. Next patient to come through those doors is yours.

-And you can choose to give me any of your current cases.

-Any?

-Mmm. How about your ingrown toenail?

-Fine. He's yours.

What? So the next person who walks through those doors is...

This is Joy. She's been stabbed... again.

Stabbed. Joy.

Hello. My name's Dr Tressler. I'll be treating you today.

-Can I see your...?

-Oi!

-Careful, Posh Boy. She's a biter!

Right. Let's get her into the side room, please.

-You know that I know.

-I know.

-You know that I get it.

I appreciate that.

-Family's precious.

-Of course.

-Family is difficult.

-Say that again.

Family at work, sharing professional space and dynamics

with your nearest and dearest...

Hopefully, moving up here will give Raf and me a bit of perspective.

Good. Well, you are welcome on Keller for as long as you like.

-Thank you.

-We need you.

-Great.

I need you...seriously.

What sort of weapon were you stabbed with?

Bet you've never had your hands on a real woman before, huh?

-Do you know?

-Some home-made shank. We never saw it.

Right, did you see it?

Skinny wee posh totty. All white teeth and sports bras.

Aw, is that all you've ever had? Am I right?

What size was the blade?

-I'll tell you...

-Yes.

-..if you tell me how long your...

-Joy! Shut it!

-You answer his questions...

-Joy, thank you.

Come 'ere. Come close. And I'll whisper it in your ear.

-You do. She'll bite it off.

-This is ridiculous.

You don't believe me? How many ears you bitten off, Joy?

Er, whole ones or just chunks?

Look, er, I don't mean to be funny, love,

but do you need to go and get one of the grown-ups?

I'm fine. Thank you.

Right, I'm going to inspect the wound.

I'm going to kick you where it hurts if you do.

-Want me to cuff her legs?

-Yes...please.

I don't diagnose. I'm a Consultant Pharmacist.

Yes. Who deals with a broad range of patients

with physical and mental problems.

I'm not a psychiatrist. You're asking me to assess her...

unofficially.

That's too formal a definition.

-Your own daughter?

-Yes.

So you can see why this needs to be dealt with sensitively.

-Without her knowledge?

-Precisely.

I don't think...

She's just been through...

..a very traumatic break-up with a man...who behaved very badly.

-I'm sorry about that...

-Very inappropriately.

For any emotional upset she...

You yourself know what it's like. Family issues.

Yes, of course, but...

He was a doctor who was working at this hospital at the time,

so the fallout is very close to home.

-I can see...

-..not dissimilar

to what you yourself are going through right now.

I wouldn't normally ask and I hate to impose, but...

..you, of all people, understand.

Once the local's taken hold,

I should be able to cut around the nail and just pop it right off.

-Glasgow?

-Yeah. Southside. Govanhill.

Do you know it?

Chaplain of Victoria Infirmary for nine years.

Huh. Do you always wear your collar in bed?

-Only in public.

-Always on duty.

It's a vocation, not a job,

probably a bit like your game.

Oh, no, being a surgeon, it's just a job, a profession, like any other.

-Ah, but not for you.

-How do you mean?

Well, I can see it in your eyes. You're no nine-to-five man.

You can tell that from my eyes?

Oh, yeah, a lot more besides.

-Like?

-Well, you're Catholic.

Can you smell the incense from the long-distant Masses?

It's a look, a reflex, call it. A priest knows, my son.

And of course, you carry your guilt in plain sight.

You can see my guilt?

Guilt...anger...hatred.

Tell me, you see a man limp,

can you tell the difference between an ingrown toenail limp and a...

-hip replacement limp?

-Yes.

I can recognise a limp too...

..only I see the emotional ones.

Sorry...

So am I.

Your echo's come back as normal.

Quite frankly, I'm surprised to find anything normal about you.

She sounds like Miss Thornby at our primary.

-"Doug Mitchell, you are an idiot!"

-Shut up!

-See?

Nurse Maconie has sent down to maintenance

-for a set of bolt cutters...

-Good man, John-Boy.

-..to cut through the steel pins in the ear tags.

-Nice.

I have to say, bolt cutters are a first on Darwin.

Back of the net!

I give up. You're not going to die, but it will hurt.

Sorry about your fiancee.

Thanks.

And thanks for the bolt cutters. That's cool.

Well, let's hope we don't chop off one of your ears accidentally.

Oh, come on! That would be awesome!

Are you OK?

-Yeah. No. To be honest, it's kind of refreshing, really.

-Yeah?

Yeah, well, everyone else treats me like I'm made of cut crystal,

like I'm going to break into a million pieces any minute.

-But you're not?

-No, surprisingly,

most of the time I'm really not.

I've got family, I've got friends,

I've got Emma.

And, um, beyond that?

What, you mean like another relationship?

Well, unless you're still into Jac and...?

Oh, no, no, no, no, twice-bitten. I've taken the antidote.

-You know what I mean?

-Yep. Understood.

I guess I'm just really not looking for anything at the moment.

Um...well, I'd better go and...

Were you slashed or were you stabbed?

Were you breast-fed or were you bottle-fed?

Look, I need to know which direction the knife went in so I can see...

What d'you think, Belle? Bosom or bottle?

Posh don't do bosom, do they? Get Nanny to do it.

-Were you sucking on your nanny's...?

-Do you want me to treat you or not?

I don't care. If you don't treat me, I can always sue you.

-Oh, you'll sue me?

-Why not? What've I got to lose?

Your life maybe, if you're not treated properly.

-He talks nice doesn't he, Belle?

-Very plummy.

Bet you get by on bedside charm. Don't have to know diddly.

Just a pretty face. It is a pretty wee face, though, Belle?

-Mmm, if you like that sort of thing.

-Could you please be quiet?!

-Oooh...

-Everything OK in here?

-He's just put his fingers all over me.

And told me to be quiet about it.

-Does that sound OK to you?

-Dr Tressler?

Everything's fine. I'm determining what kind of stab wound it is.

-Weapon?

-TBD.

-Well, make sure you determine...

-Yes, I will.

The prison rang. Her notes are on their way.

Is that your boss?

Did you hear him? He's doing my admin.

Do you know what size of blade you were attacked with?

Are you trying to look at my boobs?

Is he? Is he trying to cop an eyeful? Nurse!

OK, Mitch. I'm going to need you to stay very still. Understood?

So when's the wedding?

-Er, can't remember...

-You don't know when your wedding is?

Yeah. It's after the spud harvest and before we cut the barley.

-A date?

-Yeah. There is one.

What? And your girlfriend,

I mean, fiancee's OK with you behaving like a complete numpty?

What? Heidi. Yeah. She's dead sound, she... Aaargh!

What was that?! Right, where's the pain, mate?

-Me chest. Me belly and me... Aaargh!

-What is going on?

Right, these electrical impulses are crazy. None of this makes any sense.

Mitch, I'm going to need you to lie back and take some deep breaths.

Go and get Jac. Never seen anything like this.

It's flipping agony, mate. Me chest's all twitchy

and me stomach's knitting-up tighter than a duck's... Aaargh!

-What've you got in there?

-In my pants?!

Well, JB, you've seen Snakes On A Plane, right?

-Remember the python?

-In the pocket!

Busted, mate.

-What is that?

-Dog shocker.

-How are you feeling?

-Raring to go.

-Excellent.

Reckon I could be salsa dancing before the week's out.

OK. Well, I'll say goodbye, then.

You know you can see my church from the top floor of this hospital.

-Really?

-Yeah. St Giles. Not more than ten minutes' walk.

I think you'd be better using the hospital transport.

Oh, yes. But you could.

-Why would I want to do that?

-You tell me.

OK. Well, goodbye, then.

-I look forward to it.

-To what?

-Your visit.

Sheep dogs...gun dogs...pointers...

ferreting dogs, like terriers an' that...all need training, right?

-Yeah, we get the concept.

-Some trainers, usually rubbish ones,

what don't know how to talk to a dog proper, use shockers -

electric training devices on a collar.

The dog goes somewhere wrong or does something wrong...

Zapp! Give it a blast. Soon learns to do right.

Or it lights up like a Christmas tree.

-Wouldn't never do that to no dog, me.

-But yet you'd do it to...

Aw. Yeah. But Mitch is me bezzer.

-Zap him any day.

-Cheers, mate.

Let me, er, let me get this straight.

You come in here, to a very busy, very underfunded, NHS hospital,

and you totally waste our time, by secretly zapping him...

Only every time you mention marriage, or fiancee, or Heidi,

or wedding dates...or...well, any time I feel like it, really.

You zapped him with a dog training device to make us believe

-he had a heart condition?

-Well, when you put it like that,

it don't do justice to the real humour of the situation, does it?

OK. Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Where's the zapping device?

Ah, well, y'see that's where the stag-do bet comes in, isn't it?

It must be on him somewhere.

Hey, give off. You're tickling me, you naughty nursey. I swallowed it.

-What?!

-He swallowed it. Didn't force him.

And it weren't easy. It was a womper.

Any sign of those records?

-No. Not yet. Can I ask, what category is your nick?

-Cat B. Why?

-I worked a rotation in HMP Vernmount.

-Cat A?

-Yeah. That was a busy hospital wing.

-See a lot of action?

-Lot of violence.

-Hmm.

Where was Joy stabbed?

Belly. You got her X-rays. You not worked that one out yet?

No. Where, in the prison?

She works in the laundry.

Oh, right. That's a nice job.

Mmm. When she can be trusted not to bite someone.

Do they have coat hangers in your laundry?

Does a fat baby fart?

This is brilliant. This has to work. Pharmaceutical brain.

-Clinical brain. Patient brain. One problem.

-I've read the notes.

Nigel has a history of progressive abdominal pain,

significantly worse on his right side.

He's had multiple admissions with similar symptoms but we can't

-treat him conventionally because he is so allergic to...

-Everything.

-Have you tried...?

-Everything.

-Amitriptyline?

-Everything.

-And the pain is...

-Agony.

-What do we do?

-Do a FEIA test

-and consult the Immunologist.

-All these tests show normal readings.

They don't give any clue to the source of the pain. They only confirm

-that Nigel is reacting allergically to...

-Everything.

Need to think out of the box. Blue sky. Parallel universe. Flip side.

-Parallel universe?

-Way, way, way, way out of the box.

-I'm not...

-So what have you got? Anything?

-I still think we should do some more tests.

-Egg head!

-You see? I'm an enigma.

So from what I can ascertain from the X-ray and the FAST scan,

there appears to be no deeper puncture than the already obvious shallow wound.

What d'you want - a medal?

You could really make my job a lot easier if you could tell me anything

about what happened and who stabbed you.

-It was my girlfriend with a pork skewer.

-Really?

No, it my skank-junkie cell mate with a box cutter.

It was Professor Plum in the conservatory with a carving knife.

Right, I'm going to clean the wound and stitch you up.

You see that bloke, who, er, very definitely isn't your boss,

likes to keep an eye on you.

I'm not checking up. I just thought you might like a second opinion?

Slash wound to the lower abdomen, 10 centimetres, X-rayed, FAST scan.

-Examined the wound digitally.

-Oh, he's got the touch of an embalmer.

Slash? Are you not going to do a CT?

-I've already given her a bedside FAST scan.

-And you think...?

-Happy?

Your patient. Your call.

I trust your judgment.

At last! Hooray. The words I never thought I'd hear you say.

Did he really just say, "Hooray"?

SHE LAUGHS

His eosinophil levels are through the thatch and his IGE count

is also on the roof. That means he is definitely allergic.

-Yes, he's got a raging eosinophilia.

-Yes. I know that, Dumbo. What else?

He's probably got damage to his oesophagus and his stomach?

Eosinophilic gastroenteritis! Good! I like it.

-Histamine can ease gastro-intestinal symptoms.

-Yes, possibly.

Maybe Nigel's impressively comprehensive allergies

aren't causing his eosinophilic gastroenteritis.

Maybe it isn't causing any of the pain at all. This was great! Thanks.

-I'm gay.

-What?

-That's basically what you're saying.

-You're gay?

-You said it.

-No. It isn't... That's not what I'm saying.

-I'm saying...

-I have a warped relationship with my main man Mitch.

First of all, there is nothing warped about being gay.

Secondly, you do make him do things...

I'm not spraying him with fake tan and dressing him in a tankini!

These things that would suggest that you're caught in some...

Although come to think if it, Next Evershot Carnival Day...

..bizarre, escalating, tit-for-tat game of physical dare.

He'll do anything - Mitch.

-Which will end...

-Not gay stuff, mind.

-..with one of you dying.

Now who's being a drama queen!

He has a damaged and repaired oesophagus...

..that will leak corrosive stomach acid into his organs.

-That will kill him. Do you want him dead?

-Course not. No. I...

..I just don't want him to marry Heidi.

So first, I just did a bedside FAST scan because it looked like

a fairly superficial slash-type wound to the abdomen muscle.

-Weapon?

-Ah, well. Wouldn't we all like to know?

Prisoner code of silence. Don't be a squealer, and all that.

So, just before I took her to theatre, I had a bit of a wobble

and I thought, belt and braces,

what does a good surgeon do? What would Mr Griffin do?

Double-check. So I ordered a bedside CT scan. And...

Ah. Yes. I see...

-Here...and here...and just, that here.

-Pooling blood.

Yeah, it looks like a fairly superficial wound, but it could have pierced anything.

What d'you make of this, Mr Di Lucca?

Yeah, could be a massive internal bleed.

Could have been very dangerous.

-Good catch, Dr Tressler.

-Thank you.

-No, really. Good work.

If you'd just settled for the FAST scan and stitched her up,

she would've continued to bleed internally.

-Now we just have to prevent her from exsanguinating.

-We?

-Yes.

I think that you're more than capable of performing

an emergency exploratory operation with a little back-seat guidance.

Don't you agree, Mr Di Lucca?

-Definitely.

-Right. I'll see you in theatre.

My Heidi, she has to wear a uniform, you see -

polo shirt with cargo trousers and big clumpy work boots,

steel toe caps.

You know, she can carry two 25 kilo bags of cattle cake on each shoulder at a time. It's amazing.

It's wedged in the tail of the neo-oesophagus.

-Bad?

-Long way from good.

See. Because she's wearing this polo shirt with Vole Valley Feeds across the front...

nobody has ever noticed her.

But if you see her without the polo shirt and steel toe caps,

I mean, not naked, just in normal clothes...she's beautiful.

Prep him for theatre.

Hello?

Anybody there?

Hello?

-This is Joy Merton's paperwork.

-Thank you.

Wow. Really? You don't think I'd be allergic to that?

What even is that anyway?

-Clear ultrasound jelly.

-No. Can feel my skin react from here.

-It's still in the tube!

-I know it.

Go ahead, smear it all over me

and then when I go into anaphylactic shock, you...

Fine. No jelly. Dry ultrasound.

But I have to do this to rule out appendicitis, Crohn's disease

and Meckel's diverticulum.

You have experienced anaphylactic shock?

Sometimes it feels like life is a state of anaphylactic shock.

Nothing. No fluid. No dilated bowel.

You're quite the rare beast.

Too rare for my own good.

Have you ever spoken with a psychiatrist about how you feel?

That's your problem, isn't it, Mr Timpson?

You enjoy...no, you thrive on being rare and different.

I wonder what your life would be like

if you were just plain old normal Nigel.

Excuse me.

-Theatre team's ready and your patient's prepped.

-Nice one.

-Anything else?

-Er, no. I think we're all good here, mate. No surprises.

I'm going to crack on.

He said it himself. Delivered it to us on a plate.

He's too rare, too special, too different. Not of this world.

Right. So you're saying your patient's an alien?

Because of his allergies. He thinks he is a medical enigma.

He wants to be an enigma. On Earth, he is a tax accountant.

On Planet Nigel, he's a mysterious synthesis of conflicting reactions.

Right, so he is an alien?

No, not literally. But he might as well be from Mars.

Or is that women? Venus? Anyway, the allergies and the pain.

Some of it is connected. Some of it isn't. Some of it is real and some of it is only real to Nigel.

So he's not an alien.

No, but he is special. He is rare.

Of and from another world. He does not fit in.

-Some of us don't, you know.

-Dr March...before you...

-Some of us are not quite meant for this world.

Even Earth medicines don't quite work. The air, the dust, the pollen,

the everything, causes allergy in these rare people. Because they are meant to be elsewhere. Excuse me.

-Did that make any, er...

-No.

-..sense, to you?

Well, if it was up to me and given that the CT scan showed some internal bleeding,

I'd be checking the mesenteric vessels, the liver and the great vessels.

Well, it is up to you, Dr Tressler.

And that sounds like a perfectly good way to proceed.

Great, thanks. So, scissors and forceps ready, please.

Thank you.

And what if we find that the mesenteric vessels have been damaged?

-We suture and then we see if we need to resect the bowel.

-Good.

Friends - they look out for each other, they help each other,

they care about each other...

He's got this whole gay theory. I'll tell you later.

They do not do stuff to each other

which later requires surgical intervention!

Yeah, but friends don't suddenly abandon best friends

because they've got a whiff of skirt, do they?

-He's getting married, man!

-That's what I'm saying.

Can you not just be happy for him?

What d'you mean? I booked the strippers for his stag night!

-Er, yeah, male strippers!

-Boo-yah! Classic!

OK, Jimmer, I get it. I totally understand

your whole Starsky and Hutch thing is under threat here.

But Mitch marrying Heidi...it's a potentially wonderful thing.

It is potentially Mitch - your man - living the rest of his life

with a woman that he loves and who loves him back.

Now, that...

..that really is weird.

Nigel, in my opinion, you have simple neuralgia.

Simple? There is nothing simple about anything...

So this boring old local anaesthetic should take your pain away.

And this average steroid should help your inflammation.

If you inject me with those common, ordinary things, I'll probably die.

Ha! Luckily I printed this out... to give you more time to plan.

-What?

-Your funeral.

-What?!

You can choose a church. Crematorium. Coffin. The music.

You can even have a motorcycle with a coffin-carrying sidecar.

Isn't that amazing? So...we don't need this, do we?

Dr March!

As I see it, this is the way forward. We can do nothing.

You have to accept that you are just too rare. This world is not meant for you.

-Dr March, could we speak outside, please?

-No. I'm busy.

Jesus. Allah. Krishna. Pick a god.

Could be the pearly gates or 72 vestal virgins.

-It's up to you. It's all in the choosing.

-Plan my funeral?!

-Dr March?!

-I'm sorry, why are you following me today, Pharmacist Lady?

Did I ask you to? No. Or did someone else?

Right. Time is of the essence. Tick tock. Make a bucket list.

Invite your friends. Best tell them no flowers, though.

You don't want any sneezy pollen sufferers messing up your services.

Right. Now. Go. The next world awaits!

The peritoneal cavity seems to be full of blood,

but we sort of expected that.

We're losing BP, fast.

-Push more bloods.

-We have to pack the abdomen.

-Packs, please.

-Quickly, please.

-BP's still going south. More packs?

-Pack tightly.

Keep pushing bloods!

-Train wreck. I've repaired this once.

-Losing BP.

-Yeah. He's bleeding like a stuck pig.

-We going in?

-Let me see if I can get the device out first.

If I can pull it back up the pipe, we'll do a lot less damage than cutting it out.

Right, his BP's through the floor. We need more fluids.

Can you believe these idiots? I can't even see it.

We're going to need to slice and dice. Thoracoabdominal incision.

In like Flynn, stop the bleed.

-Peritoneal cavity still filling up.

-Bleeding from everywhere.

-What was her clotting?

-Normal.

-No history? No anticoagulants?

-Nothing. I double checked.

-She's clearly coagulopathic.

-Belt and braces, Mr Griffin. Honestly.

-I've double checked everything.

-What's her INR?

I did an INR soon as she came in. There was nothing abnormal.

We're losing her! Why is this?

Somebody get her file.

There's a lot of blood. Prep five units.

Mo.

This is so cool!

-More suction.

-I'm pumped, man, that you let me look.

I need more suction or I'm not going to be able to see anything.

Can I take pictures?

Oh, aye, knock yourself out.

In fact, you get a better view from that monitor there and the one at the back.

Like a knife fight in an abattoir.

Do you recognise that dude?

That's right. It's your old pal, Mitch.

-OVER INTERCOM:

-Thought I'd bring someone to have a look.

Have a look at what you bad boys have achieved.

Ah! Got it.

You see this? Leaking like a drain.

Oesophagus...here...shredded.

He's going to be sucking pizza through a straw for months.

-Do you want to take a photograph?

-No.

No? No, no, have a good look. Go on.

Come on, have a look. And that one over there and there.

-Get him out of here.

-I'm sorry.

-She's packed and still bleeding out! Why?

-I don't know.

Well, it's got to be a clotting issue.

Honestly, I know it's not the meds. Could it be something else?

-Do you need a hand?

-Yes.

-No.

We can't stop the bleed.

Because of the heparin? We need FFP and cryo.

-She's not on heparin. Dr Tressler's checked.

-She is. 120mg every day.

-No, she's not.

-She is. And that's exactly why she'll be bleeding out like a sieve.

I've read the notes.

And it says in green ink - 120mg low molecular weight heparin every day,

to treat her deep vein thrombosis.

-No. It does not say that in the notes.

-Where's that file?

-There's nothing about heparin in her file!

-Open it up, come on.

Turn...turn... Look. What's this?

That was not in the file. I've checked the whole of the document.

Get some factor VIII concentrate... MONITOR BEEPS

-Have we got any FFP yet?

-Mr Griffin, honest...

-Stand back, Dr Tressler.

-No. I read the file!

-If we can get on top of the clotting,

-I can get in there and fix the mesenteric bleed.

-Mr Griffin...

Stand back. This patient could die, because you didn't read a file.

Mr Griffin...

She told him to go home and arrange his funeral.

Her colleague seems very concerned about her.

And she had a bit of a go at me.

I see.

You're asking me to make a judgment outside my skill set.

Well, you have worked with a great many psychiatrists.

I think she should consider seeing one.

What about meds?

You know, something to take the edge off her anxiety?

Only a psychiatrist can prescribe, and only after consultation.

Except a consultation will go down on her records

and if a junior doctor gets a psyche condition

referenced on their record, then, frankly, they're doomed.

I disagree. There are very many doctors

who, in the course of their careers, potentially seek psychiatric help.

It doesn't mean...

Not in my world.

She could just be very wound up.

She's had a bad break-up,

she's obviously throwing herself into her work.

Yes, well, that's not a bad thing, is it?

-But if she is having some kind of episode...

-Episode?

No, no, no. I think we're getting way beyond of ourselves here.

You asked for my opinion. I've given it.

Right.

Thank you.

This conversation never happened.

Some people want to hear a different noise, need to hear a different truth.

Some people want to have the person behind the person they show to the world seen.

-And allergic Nigel is one of those people.

-Dr March. You can't let him go.

-He's perfectly happy.

-Your patient needs to be treated.

-Done. Finished. Cured. Bye-bye.

Sending a patient home to arrange his funeral is not a recognised treatment in this NHS Trust.

Ah, you've been telling tales out of school? You watching me?

-Reporting me to the boss man?

-I was asked...

Because, to me, that sounds sneaky.

-Arthur, does that sound sneaky?

-He can't be sent home.

-Can. And is.

-To plan his funeral?

-I used reverse psychology.

By humouring him and validating his irrational point of view

and taking it to its ultimate resolution,

he recognised it was, in fact, irrational.

Nigel willingly took the injection.

It's an anaesthetic and steroid mix.

Common or garden. Bog-standard.

And, um, Dr March ruled out appendicitis...

Meckel's diverticulum...Crohn's disease and diagnosed neuralgia.

Trapped nerve. Who would've thought it?

And plain old out-of-the-packet painkiller. Gone. Cured.

Another day, eh?

Are you sure you're feeling better?

She is a genius. Amazing.

A very rare type of doctor.

Very special. No other doctor ever got me...like Dr March does.

Right.

You should be very proud.

Look. No pain. First time in over a decade.

Do you want to come with me?

You heard the man. Special.

OK. I think we're done here, don't you?

Bleed's stopped. She's clotting.

We have pressure.

The injury must have been caused

by something like a sharpened piece of wire

to have perforated that deep.

That...was close. Would you close up, please?

In fairness, Dr Tressler couldn't be expected to know

about a prison weapon like this.

-No. But he should be able to read a file!

-Granted.

-It wasn't...

-Please, Dr Tressler. Don't make this any worse.

He's going to be all right, though, isn't he?

You seen Heidi? She's a lovely wee thing.

Think she'd know better.

What? Falling for Mitch?

Yeah, I suppose sometimes you can't help yourself.

-Are they for them? I'll take them for you if you want?

-No, it's OK...

-Ow-w!

-Did you feel that?

-Static.

Yeah, it must be the carpets.

Either that or Jimmer's hiding in the cupboard and zapping us.

-Jonny...?

-What?

-No. Nothing.

-What?

No, no. It's OK. It's...

Come on, man. Tell me, what were you going to say?

No. Nothing. I can't say...

cos it's just going to sound all crazy and wrong and you'll just...

Oh, tell me.

Right. OK. I cannot believe I'm...

Right, in my head is this thing, right?

And it's all backwards and inside out.

Because you're a mate, right?

Yeah. Right.

-Mo...

-Mo...

-..is my sister.

-Well, nothing gets by you, does it?

-And your best friend.

Should I be taking notes?

And I...I...I am a mate.

So it's officially Groundhog Day, then.

Just a mate.

Do you mean...?

You are...

-Are you..?

-I knew this was a bad idea.

-SHE SQUEAKS

-What the hell was that?

Rewind? Like rewinding back to before I opened my big mouth.

I'm glad you did. I am. I'm glad you said it.

Because I have had...similar thoughts.

About me?

I have thought...

wondered...what it might be like if...

If?

If...we...

-Kissed?

-..kissed.

-So...?

-Yeah.

I know!

That was...

I mean honestly...

-Weird.

-Really weird!

-And not even like the good weird.

-No!

Kind of like "I feel like I just kissed my cousin" weird.

Yeah, because they do that all the time in Scotland, right?

-No, they do not!

-Oh, come on, I know they do.

This is going to be a nightmare for the department.

She was an abusive patient. Every time I even went to touch...every time I even went to examine her...

That is no excuse for not properly consulting her medical file.

She was also a biter, by the way! And you can ask the guard.

Just be quiet.

It doesn't look good. AAU Registrar fails to read a patient's files.

When I looked,

there was absolutely nothing in that file about anti-coagulant drugs.

You're really not helping yourself, Dr Tressler.

I was told in no uncertain terms to keep my nose out.

This is so not how I want AAU to run.

You come to me, you tell me that our Senior Registrar is not treating you

with the respect that you deserve.

Yeah, he talks to me like I'm ten years old!

I give you responsibility. I give you autonomy

and, within half a day, you practically kill a patient.

-I

-practically kill a patient,

simply because you fail to read a file properly!

I have done nothing wrong. I did an INR on admission.

I read every inch of that file.

Well, you can prove that at the enquiry. You're suspended.

-What?

-Until further notice.

-Nightmare.

-It's exhausting.

Well, thank goodness she's staying at her dad's.

Who'd have thought it? Amy Teo - Spy for Guy.

Well, I outfoxed that fox. Good and proper. FYI, by the way,

I'm not staying at Dad's any more.

Too sad. Like, who am I? His new hostage?

So I'm going to move back in tonight.

And tonight we're going to party

like tomorrow's the day party as a concept is being banned. Agreed?

OK. I don't really think that's...

I stole load of drugs from Amy's supplies. ..Ah! Look at you!

Arthur Digby, you look like you nearly gave birth to a litter of kittens!

But I did steal two bottles of tequila from Dad's cabinet.

So look out, boys, It's going to be a long night! Whoo-hoo!

You're my cheddar pink. My little jugs of love.

-You can't use that on me. You're still in the doghouse.

-Why?

-All looking good?

-Yeah. Fine, thank you.

-And what are you going to do if he does this again?

-Throttle him.

-Oh, yeah. You wanted some tape, right?

-Thanks.

You're not going to eat it, are you?

-Er, no, no. I promise.

-Good.

Jimmer.

So, do you think they'll be all right?

-Who? Mitch and Heidi? Or Mitch and Jimmer?

-Well, both.

-Yeah, I got a good feeling.

-What?

Ow-w! Hey, man.

Truce?

Truce.

You're still me bezzer, mate.

Hang in there, big man.

Hey, Jimmer, um...

Take care of yourself, man.

Righto, bro! Nice one.

What an idiot, man.

I don't suppose you fancy giving me a lift home?

This is because of you.

I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean.

This, none of this is because of my surgery, or my work.

-Really?

-This is because...

You think that I did something to... I don't know...destroy your career?

It's only a suspension.

You could still lose your job. At the very least,

you'll end up a junior doctor with a black mark against your name.

Failing to read a patient's notes and nearly killing them -

that's not easy to come back from.

You haven't won. And by the way, I'm not going to apologise

for what happened with Amy. It's your own stupid fault.

No. When I first had these thoughts,

that was all they were.

Just thoughts.

And then they grew into actions.

Small at first.

Then today...

today...

..I nearly let a patient die in my hunger for revenge.

I feel like something inside of me's broken.

I want your forgiveness, Father.

I want God's forgiveness...

..for what I did today.

This is not who I am, or ever want to be.

I'm a healer.

Will you heal me, please?

So I can keep healing others.