a
trouble-free night's duty.
"Morning, Doc. Charge's compliments and can you make sure Dr Alsop sees
Mr Charrington today? We had a hell of a job getting him out of bed and
at breakfast he drew pictures all over the table with his porridge."
"Damn." Paul reached for the hanging clipboard he privately referred to
as the stand-up-and-yell list. There were really no non-urgent cases in
the hospital except the chronic geriatrics.
-- All madmen are urgent but some are more urgent than others.
"Right. Anything else?"
"Well" -- Oliphant hesitated -- "Matron did say you wanted Jingler and Riley
moved out of Disturbed to make up for the two discharges. You couldn't leave
it a couple of days, could you?"
"I'm afraid not. It's not doing those two any good at all being among
chronic patients who are worse than they are."
"That's what we thought you'd say," Oliphant muttered.
"Come off it! Granted, old Jingler is probably going to be in and out
for the rest of his life, but Riley's only twenty-two and too bright to
be wasted."
"He beat up his own mother, didn't he?"
"In some ways she seems to have deserved it," Paul sighed. "And they sent
him here, remember, not to Rampton or Broadmoor. Never mind the arguments,
though. Just get on with it. Dr Alsop will be here in about half an hour;
I'll try and get him to see Charrington right away."
"Thanks," Oliphant muttered sourly, and went out.
-- Maybe I'd feel more the way he does if I had to move among patients
in the mass all day long . . . ?"
Paul shook his head and started on the contend of the in-tray.
The phone tinkled just as the clock clanged and clinked nine-thirty.
Dumping the most routine of his case-notes -- "no change no change
no changes" -- into their files, he picked it up.
"Natalie," the voice said. "I'm off to look round the wards. Want to call
on Urchin with me, or wait till Alsop gets here?"
"Hang on." One-handed, Paul riffled the remaining documents in his tray.
"Suppose I join you in Female in ten minutes, does that suit?"
"Okay."
And another knock: Nurse Davis with memos from Matron.
-- Ask her how it went last night? Tactless! But it's a sunny day
for one person at least. Let's see. . . . Nothing immediate, praise
be. Pharmacy appropriations list: must remember to sound Alsop on this
fluphenazine treatment; I think we could benefit from it. And that's
that for the moment.
He pushed back his chair, suddenly eager to see Urchin again.
-- That name's catching on all right. Hope she accepts it. . . .
Why should I want so much to call on her with Natalie -- why not wait
until Alsop gets here in another few minutes? I have more work that
must be done. Oh, because what I fear has happened to her: enclosure
in a private universe. Anyhow, her case is a far cry from the regular
rather dull admissions. Imaginary voices, delusions of persecution,
pathological lethargy, all the other stock symptoms indicate that complex
or not, human beings have a remarkably limited range of ways of going
wrong. Like fever stemming from so many different diseases. Wonder if
GP's get a bang out of rare conditions like undulant fever as a change
from flu and measles. Christ, this place is doing horrible things to my
sense of humour!
*10*
Since Chent hadn't been designed for use as a mental hospital its layout
was illogical and inconvenient. The centre block, now given over to
administration, the pharmacy, and quarters for the resident medical
officers, was adequately compact, but the wards for the less-disturbed
patients spilled over randomly into what had once been nurseries,
picture galleries, gun-rooms and lord knew what, while the nurses'
quarters were in a range of converted stables separated from the main
building by a paved yard. Only the Disturbed wing, being a
trouble-free night's duty.
"Morning, Doc. Charge's compliments and can you make sure Dr Alsop sees
Mr Charrington today? We had a hell of a job getting him out of bed and
at breakfast he drew pictures all over the table with his porridge."
"Damn." Paul reached for the hanging clipboard he privately referred to
as the stand-up-and-yell list. There were really no non-urgent cases in
the hospital except the chronic geriatrics.
-- All madmen are urgent but some are more urgent than others.
"Right. Anything else?"
"Well" -- Oliphant hesitated -- "Matron did say you wanted Jingler and Riley
moved out of Disturbed to make up for the two discharges. You couldn't leave
it a couple of days, could you?"
"I'm afraid not. It's not doing those two any good at all being among
chronic patients who are worse than they are."
"That's what we thought you'd say," Oliphant muttered.
"Come off it! Granted, old Jingler is probably going to be in and out
for the rest of his life, but Riley's only twenty-two and too bright to
be wasted."
"He beat up his own mother, didn't he?"
"In some ways she seems to have deserved it," Paul sighed. "And they sent
him here, remember, not to Rampton or Broadmoor. Never mind the arguments,
though. Just get on with it. Dr Alsop will be here in about half an hour;
I'll try and get him to see Charrington right away."
"Thanks," Oliphant muttered sourly, and went out.
-- Maybe I'd feel more the way he does if I had to move among patients
in the mass all day long . . . ?"
Paul shook his head and started on the contend of the in-tray.
The phone tinkled just as the clock clanged and clinked nine-thirty.
Dumping the most routine of his case-notes -- "no change no change
no changes" -- into their files, he picked it up.
"Natalie," the voice said. "I'm off to look round the wards. Want to call
on Urchin with me, or wait till Alsop gets here?"
"Hang on." One-handed, Paul riffled the remaining documents in his tray.
"Suppose I join you in Female in ten minutes, does that suit?"
"Okay."
And another knock: Nurse Davis with memos from Matron.
-- Ask her how it went last night? Tactless! But it's a sunny day
for one person at least. Let's see. . . . Nothing immediate, praise
be. Pharmacy appropriations list: must remember to sound Alsop on this
fluphenazine treatment; I think we could benefit from it. And that's
that for the moment.
He pushed back his chair, suddenly eager to see Urchin again.
-- That name's catching on all right. Hope she accepts it. . . .
Why should I want so much to call on her with Natalie -- why not wait
until Alsop gets here in another few minutes? I have more work that
must be done. Oh, because what I fear has happened to her: enclosure
in a private universe. Anyhow, her case is a far cry from the regular
rather dull admissions. Imaginary voices, delusions of persecution,
pathological lethargy, all the other stock symptoms indicate that complex
or not, human beings have a remarkably limited range of ways of going
wrong. Like fever stemming from so many different diseases. Wonder if
GP's get a bang out of rare conditions like undulant fever as a change
from flu and measles. Christ, this place is doing horrible things to my
sense of humour!
*10*
Since Chent hadn't been designed for use as a mental hospital its layout
was illogical and inconvenient. The centre block, now given over to
administration, the pharmacy, and quarters for the resident medical
officers, was adequately compact, but the wards for the less-disturbed
patients spilled over randomly into what had once been nurseries,
picture galleries, gun-rooms and lord knew what, while the nurses'
quarters were in a range of converted stables separated from the main
building by a paved yard. Only the Disturbed wing, being a
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