Scrubs Comes to Life in the NHS

Did you know Scrubs has been reported to be the most accurate medical drama? Although I have had multiple amusing stories thus far in my physiotherapy training, I have not had any true 'Scrubs moments' that make me wonder whether this is actually happening.

Then I had a placement in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU).

As part of this placement, I worked in a variety of settings including medical inpatients. This was possibly my favourite setting as many patients from A&E are then admitted to this ward, meaning you are presented with a wide variety of cases. About two weeks into the placement, I visited the ward for the third time and was presented with a patient who needed a walking aid assessment. This is typically an easy job that simply involves the patient standing, trialling a piece of equipment and going for a quick stroll. Knowing my luck, I'm typically prepared for something to surprise me, but this day exceeded my expectations.

I drew back the blue, pleated curtains and saw the patient asleep on his left side. On waking he spluttered and mumbled a couple of incomprehensible words to which I simply nodded and smiled: a fail safe technique.
    'Good afternoon Mr Smith' (Please note all names have been changed for confidentiality purposes).
He turned his head, squinted in my direction and replied 'Merhhd aftan...' I optimstically decided that to mean 'Good afternoon kind lady, how may I help you?'
   'How are you doing today Mr Smith?'
   'Terrible!' yelled a patient from the other side of the bay. Somewhat surprised I turned around, calmly apologised and explained that I was actually talking to Mr Smith. He nodded and went about his business.
   'How are you feeling Mr Smith?'
   'Horrible! I told you that already!' yelled the other patient. I once again turned, and asked him his name. James seemed to understand my gently rephrased explanation of 'I'm trying to talk to this guy, hush', so I returned to Mr Smith.
   'How did you sleep?' Mr Smith, finally, made a noise but so faint that I couldn't hear him over the response of the other patient across the bay. 'Sorry Mr Smith, I can't hear you. How did you sleep?'
   'I didn't!' James bellowed.
Before I had a chance to calm the situation, a third patient lost his temper. 'For God's sake man she's clearly not talking to you will you just be quiet and let her get on with it!'
   'Well how was I meant to know?' James snared back.
   'Because she is using his name not yours you buffoon!'
I imagine that on reflection the third patient may have regretted using the word buffoon. The argument exploded and talking to Mr Smith became near impossible.
   'What kind of walking aid do you use at home?' I loudly asked, leaning in towards Mr Smith to optimise my chances of hearing his response.
   'A frame? You use a zimmer frame?' I asked him, still in close proximity. He nodded. 'I'll just go and get a frame and then we can go for a walk, would you like to do that?' He once again nodded, clearly realising that his voice would be lost in the wailings of the other two patients.

As I left the bay, slightly shell shocked from the incident I questioned how on earth I had found myself talking to a hard of hearing, quiet patient in a now loud, bickering environment. This quickly died into insignificance as turned the corner to find the ward underwater. Blinking, I pondered what on earth was happening. The laminated floors were covered in an inch of water; the puddle slowly growing towards the nurses station. I edged around it, and saw a doctor crouched in the side room corridor grasping a dust pan to scoop the surrounding water into a bucket. 'Mr Jones please leave the bathroom tap turned off!' A nurse appeared, short of breath and red in the cheeks, but composed. 'I've found the cleaning staff, they will be here shortly with a mop.' She looked to the left of the doctor, to see him clutching his dust pan, and with a bemused look slowly turned and edged away.

From then on, it all seemed calm. Bizarrely James and the third patient had argued their way into a friendship and Mr Jones didn't turn the tap on again. He in fact became cautious to use it at all in case he forgot to turn it off again. Not quite the hygenic approach I think the doctor was hoping for but it did cease the flooding. Mr Smith was fine, and walked independently around the flooded ward. I turned my head, looked up in an inquisitive manner and delved into a JD thought process of '...what would an underwater hospital be like?'

Foxes - Youth