Shirts

Speaking of mistaken identity...

Last Thursday, I wore a blue short-sleeved shirt and black trousers into work. Normally, I get changed into my pyjamas theatre scrubs before I visit my patients, so it doesn't matter what I wear (within reason - they won't let me wear a black cloak again... actually, it was the scythe that the Board deemed "inappropriate"...)

It was only when I got in and faced five uniformed hospital porters walking towards me in the corridor that I realised that I was wearing the same as them.
Comedy ensued.

"You the new guy? Come with us. Outbreak" said one of them to me gruffly. His skin was more tattooed than not and I'm convinced he could've crushed my skull with one hand if I'd argued. So I thought I might as well give them a hand and explain afterwards.

Overnight, half the patients on one ward had contracted some nasty virus that expelled anything they'd recently eaten rapidly out of the nearest available orifice; our job was to move the unaffected patients to another ward.

I wheeled my patient (a confused Polish lady who kept asking if I was her son)in her bed to the opposite end of the hospital. Then, as I was leaving the ward, a nurse asked me to take an urgent stool sample to the lab. Then at the lab they asked me to take 8 units of blood to the emergency theatre - apparently the op was going disastrously wrong.

Turns out the intimidating theatre sister thought the new porter standing lost in the corridor was a surgeon - he thought he might as well give them a hand and explain afterwards.



The court hearing's in a few weeks.

(What should I wear?)