"Emilee! Emileeee!!" Bastién, the chief male nurse on the ward came running up towards me, looking slightly hysterical. He was french, a secretly gay man stuck in an arab country and the only other european in this Syrian A&E. He had an arab mother, and had learned English from watching endless american TV-shows and musicals. He had become my most important link of correct communication between myself and everyone else in this ward, interpreting now more out of habit than out of necessity. I had learned some arabic in the time I was here, but not enough to get by during longwinded medical discussions.
"Ok, ok, calm down, what's up?" I'd seen him calmer during shoot-outs than he was at the moment.
"Zhey need you, room 302, a patient."
"What, me? Why?"
"You speek good English," he said apologetically in his wonderfully caricatured French-English accent. We had an amazing array of languages in this hospital - arabic, pashto, french, spanish and god knows what else. But curiously enough, I was just about the only one with a good grasp of English. "Come, hurry."
"Wow, is it this important?" I hadn't heard anything about a critical patient coming in, so the urgency took me by surprise.
"Yes, he is trés importante. British. He is from television. They said he must be treated well, will look good for Syria." I burst out laughing, Bastién had said "television" like it was some other planet.
"All right, I get it, he is important," I sighed and patted his arm. "Thanks Bastién," I added as I walked towards room 302, leaving him in the hallway. Privately I was annoyed. Not at whoever this television person was, he probably hadn't burst into the emergency demanding special treatment. Then again, you never knew. But the hospital staff was eager to give it to him all the same. Everyone European and famous was royal in their eyes, and a bad treatment here could give them bad press and destroy whatever reputation they thought they had.
"Ok, ok, calm down, what's up?" I'd seen him calmer during shoot-outs than he was at the moment.
"Zhey need you, room 302, a patient."
"What, me? Why?"
"You speek good English," he said apologetically in his wonderfully caricatured French-English accent. We had an amazing array of languages in this hospital - arabic, pashto, french, spanish and god knows what else. But curiously enough, I was just about the only one with a good grasp of English. "Come, hurry."
"Wow, is it this important?" I hadn't heard anything about a critical patient coming in, so the urgency took me by surprise.
"Yes, he is trés importante. British. He is from television. They said he must be treated well, will look good for Syria." I burst out laughing, Bastién had said "television" like it was some other planet.
"All right, I get it, he is important," I sighed and patted his arm. "Thanks Bastién," I added as I walked towards room 302, leaving him in the hallway. Privately I was annoyed. Not at whoever this television person was, he probably hadn't burst into the emergency demanding special treatment. Then again, you never knew. But the hospital staff was eager to give it to him all the same. Everyone European and famous was royal in their eyes, and a bad treatment here could give them bad press and destroy whatever reputation they thought they had.
I burst in the door of room 302 and found two men, one lying on a bed seemingly staring at the ceiling, and another in the act of wandering around aimlessly seemingly about to expire from worry. You have got to be kidding me. Is that the guy from..? I can't be. What are the bloody chances? I pulled myself together.
"Hello, I'm Emily, I'm a nurse." The wandering man seemed to let out a sigh of relief that he finally could understand someone. I stretched out a hand to him, and he shook it.
"Hi, I'm Andy. I'm er... the producer. And his mate. Mostly mate." He was rambling. I replied with a smile that it was nice to meet him, then turned to the man on the bed. Holy hell, it is him. I leaned towards him and took hold of his hand, squeezed it lightly to get his attention. It took a while for him to lock in and focus on me. He seemed pale and a bit out of it.
"Hello, you. I'm Emily, I'm a nurse," I smiled, talking somewhat slower and gentler than I had to the man on two feet.
"Um, hi..." he said slowly. He stared intently at me now that he had finally managed to focus, seemingly surprised that someone was talking English to him. "I'm um.. James. James May."
"I already know that, but hello anyway, James, nice to meet you," I smiled. I was still holding his hand, it was an old nurses thing. Observe the skin for symtoms - bad circulation, fever, clamminess. The skin on his hand was rough, but warm. He squeezed it back this time, and I saw a shadow of a smile. Always a good sign. "So, what happened to you, then?" I asked lightly. Let go of his hand, idiot, this is getting way past nurses' observations. I had already seen the cloth he was holding to his head, and the blood and sand in his hair and on his clothes, and gathered he'd fallen and hit his head pretty badly.
"I um.. banged my head a bit," he muttered, almost shameful. I could tell he wasn't up for storytelling, so I turned to Andy and lifted my eyebrows at him questioningly, signalling him to elaborate.
"Well," he begun, drawing breath. "I take it you know we're doing a car show, yeah?"
"My family are mostly car mechanics, what do you think?" I smirked.
"Oh, right," Andy said, returning to his aimless wandering. I sat down on James' bedside, still holding his hand as he seemed not to want to let it go. Andy took my cue and also sat down on a rickety chair. "Anyway, we were out in the desert and the cars got stuck, so Richard tried to tow Jezza out... Anyway, James was trying to direct them both and took hold of the towing rope, and.."
"I think I can see where this is going. The rope was pulled taught quickly and he got flung backwards and landed head first on a rock?" I finished with a sigh and a slight smile.
"Yeah, that was pretty much it."
"Isn't that kind of a rookie mistake?" I said flatly, looking at James again. They both seemed tense and worried, and by experience I knew a joke could make people relax. But I also knew it might be too early to throw some humour into the proceedings, so I waited for James' ghost of a smile to reappear before I smiled too.
"I know, silly..." he mumbled again. I patted his arm consolingly again before I got up.
"Right, I apologize but I'm badly informed, I was just thrown in here because I speak somewhat understandable English." I grabbed his charts which was hanging on the end of the bed. "There's been a doctor to see you, right?" I looked at James but it was Andy that answered.
"Yes, we have. Um, he has. At least, I think he was a doctor. I didn't understand a word he said, though," he said apologetically, like he was embarrassed he didn't understand Arabic.
"Welcome to my world. I don't either 50% of the time," I mumbled while I looked over the charts. "Right, from what I can tell they've done a basic neurological exam, and it looks good. It says here "minor brain injury", which isn't as scary as it sounds," I added hastily, spotting Andy going pale. "Basically he's had a hefty concussion."
"Oh, right.. We were a bit worried it was something.. worse... He passed out and when he woke up he was very confused, didn't know where he was or.." Andy's voice faded as he gave his mate a worried look. It was almost touching.
"James?" I said, and he shifted his gaze from Andy to me. "Know where you are?"
"Hospital. Syria. Damascus, probably."
"Good man," I smiled encouragingly, moved a chair over and sat down , facing them both. "Getting a bad bang on the head like that can cause some pretty weird symptoms. Nausea, blurred vision, coordination and balance issues, a stonking headache, and lots of cognitive symptoms like temporary confusion or memory loss. Compare it to your brain having a power-out and having to reboot it like a computer." They both nodded, signalling they had understood. I looked down at the charts again which I had in my lap. "Doctors want to do a quick CT of you just to make sure you haven't messed your noggin' up more than we think you have. But I really think it'll all be fine. Your vitals are good, but you are a bit dehydrated and have lost a bit of blood, so I'll give you an IV with some fluids later. It also says here that I have the joyous task of cleaning out that headwound of yours after you've had your scan. Hopefully you won't need stitches. Other than that its bedrest and calm until tomorrow at the very least." I stopped talking, and looked from one to the other. I'm going to have to prod this man with a needle. God, I hope I won't miss.
"Any questions?"
"Um, no... So he'll be here at least until tomorrow?" Andy asked.
"Yeah, at least," I repeated. "Is the rest of the crew in town as well? Maybe you need to check into a hotel overnight?"
"Oh god, I haven't even thought that far," Andy breathed.
"Don't worry, I know a few good hotels around, I can give you the names if you want?" Andy nodded gratefully at this as I scribbled the names of the three best hotels I knew in the city on a piece of paper. I couldn't picture Jeremy Clarkson in a cheap Syrian motel. Andy took the piece of paper, but still looked somewhat lost. "Listen," I said and put my arm on Andy's shoulder. "Why don't I go and get you a cup of coffee, you can go outside and call the others, maybe let them know what's going on? And then try to find a hotel for the night?"
"Yeah. I'll do that. Thanks," he shrugged and gave me an embarrassed smile. He was still in a bit of shock and was grateful for some guidance and simple instructions to follow.
"Er.. James?" God, I can't call him sir. Or Mister May? God, no. "I'll go find your mate here a cup of coffee and then I'll be right back, all right?" A grunt of confirmation came from the bed. I hurried out and into the little nurses station, poured coffee into a polystyrene cup and hurried back to 302. Andy was meandering outside, looking put upon. I handed him the cup and patted him on the back. "It'll be all right. He's going to be fine. By the way, that coffee will give you hairs on your eyeballs." He smiled appreciatively and shuffled towards the exit. I dove into the storage room and found what I needed for inserting an IV needle, and then hurried back. Calm down, you stupid woman. He's just a bloke you've seen on the telly. James was still on the bed, eyes closed.
"James?"
"Hm?" He opened bleary eyes and looked at me. I pulled a chair right up to the side of his bed and deposited my medical equipment on the nightstand.
"Remember my name?"
"Emily," he replied, looking mildly affronted, as if I thought he was senile.
"Good, good. I have to check that," I said showing my palms in a disarming gesture before looking at him intently. "So, how are you feeling?"
"Um... Not as nauseous as before. Head hurts a lot more, though. Still a bit dizzy and.. um.. fuzzy. Vision is a bit blurry."
"Pain anywhere else than your head?"
"Um, no... Well, back hurts a bit but I guess that's just from falling on it." He looked at me for confirmation.
"It probably is," I nodded calmly. "You scared?" The question caught him slightly by surprise, it was direct and personal.
"No..." He hesitated. "Well, I was a bit worried for a while, but no, not anymore."
"Good. Everything will be all right. Listen, I have to put this IV needle in your hand. You'll need some contrast for the CT, and then I'll get you some pain meds and some IV fluids later. Is that all right?" He just nodded slightly and proffered is left hand tiredly. God, please don't miss. Don't miss. Come on, don't miss.
"I'm not even going to bother about asking if you're peevish about needles, no man ever admits to be," I said as I unwrapped my equipment, poked around his hand for a vein and rubbed disinfectant on his skin. "There, all done," I said as I put the last bit of tape on his hand. Thank heavens. "Okay. Can I just have a look at your head?" I said and gestured to the cloth he was still holding to the back of his head. Another nod. I got up and gently placed my hand over his, carefully removing the cloth enough to see what was under there. The bleeding had stopped. It wasn't big, but looked deep and in need of a good cleaning. "Okay," I said and guided his hand back to hold the cloth there. "Keep the cloth there until after you've had your CT, I'll clean it out properly later. You don't have to put pressure on it, it's stopped bleeding. Want a glass of water?"
"Yes, please. Thank you," he said. Typical polite brit.
"I'll go find that for you, and some contrast, and let them know you're ready for CT in a bit." He gave a slight nod again, and I disappeared.
"Hello, I'm Emily, I'm a nurse." The wandering man seemed to let out a sigh of relief that he finally could understand someone. I stretched out a hand to him, and he shook it.
"Hi, I'm Andy. I'm er... the producer. And his mate. Mostly mate." He was rambling. I replied with a smile that it was nice to meet him, then turned to the man on the bed. Holy hell, it is him. I leaned towards him and took hold of his hand, squeezed it lightly to get his attention. It took a while for him to lock in and focus on me. He seemed pale and a bit out of it.
"Hello, you. I'm Emily, I'm a nurse," I smiled, talking somewhat slower and gentler than I had to the man on two feet.
"Um, hi..." he said slowly. He stared intently at me now that he had finally managed to focus, seemingly surprised that someone was talking English to him. "I'm um.. James. James May."
"I already know that, but hello anyway, James, nice to meet you," I smiled. I was still holding his hand, it was an old nurses thing. Observe the skin for symtoms - bad circulation, fever, clamminess. The skin on his hand was rough, but warm. He squeezed it back this time, and I saw a shadow of a smile. Always a good sign. "So, what happened to you, then?" I asked lightly. Let go of his hand, idiot, this is getting way past nurses' observations. I had already seen the cloth he was holding to his head, and the blood and sand in his hair and on his clothes, and gathered he'd fallen and hit his head pretty badly.
"I um.. banged my head a bit," he muttered, almost shameful. I could tell he wasn't up for storytelling, so I turned to Andy and lifted my eyebrows at him questioningly, signalling him to elaborate.
"Well," he begun, drawing breath. "I take it you know we're doing a car show, yeah?"
"My family are mostly car mechanics, what do you think?" I smirked.
"Oh, right," Andy said, returning to his aimless wandering. I sat down on James' bedside, still holding his hand as he seemed not to want to let it go. Andy took my cue and also sat down on a rickety chair. "Anyway, we were out in the desert and the cars got stuck, so Richard tried to tow Jezza out... Anyway, James was trying to direct them both and took hold of the towing rope, and.."
"I think I can see where this is going. The rope was pulled taught quickly and he got flung backwards and landed head first on a rock?" I finished with a sigh and a slight smile.
"Yeah, that was pretty much it."
"Isn't that kind of a rookie mistake?" I said flatly, looking at James again. They both seemed tense and worried, and by experience I knew a joke could make people relax. But I also knew it might be too early to throw some humour into the proceedings, so I waited for James' ghost of a smile to reappear before I smiled too.
"I know, silly..." he mumbled again. I patted his arm consolingly again before I got up.
"Right, I apologize but I'm badly informed, I was just thrown in here because I speak somewhat understandable English." I grabbed his charts which was hanging on the end of the bed. "There's been a doctor to see you, right?" I looked at James but it was Andy that answered.
"Yes, we have. Um, he has. At least, I think he was a doctor. I didn't understand a word he said, though," he said apologetically, like he was embarrassed he didn't understand Arabic.
"Welcome to my world. I don't either 50% of the time," I mumbled while I looked over the charts. "Right, from what I can tell they've done a basic neurological exam, and it looks good. It says here "minor brain injury", which isn't as scary as it sounds," I added hastily, spotting Andy going pale. "Basically he's had a hefty concussion."
"Oh, right.. We were a bit worried it was something.. worse... He passed out and when he woke up he was very confused, didn't know where he was or.." Andy's voice faded as he gave his mate a worried look. It was almost touching.
"James?" I said, and he shifted his gaze from Andy to me. "Know where you are?"
"Hospital. Syria. Damascus, probably."
"Good man," I smiled encouragingly, moved a chair over and sat down , facing them both. "Getting a bad bang on the head like that can cause some pretty weird symptoms. Nausea, blurred vision, coordination and balance issues, a stonking headache, and lots of cognitive symptoms like temporary confusion or memory loss. Compare it to your brain having a power-out and having to reboot it like a computer." They both nodded, signalling they had understood. I looked down at the charts again which I had in my lap. "Doctors want to do a quick CT of you just to make sure you haven't messed your noggin' up more than we think you have. But I really think it'll all be fine. Your vitals are good, but you are a bit dehydrated and have lost a bit of blood, so I'll give you an IV with some fluids later. It also says here that I have the joyous task of cleaning out that headwound of yours after you've had your scan. Hopefully you won't need stitches. Other than that its bedrest and calm until tomorrow at the very least." I stopped talking, and looked from one to the other. I'm going to have to prod this man with a needle. God, I hope I won't miss.
"Any questions?"
"Um, no... So he'll be here at least until tomorrow?" Andy asked.
"Yeah, at least," I repeated. "Is the rest of the crew in town as well? Maybe you need to check into a hotel overnight?"
"Oh god, I haven't even thought that far," Andy breathed.
"Don't worry, I know a few good hotels around, I can give you the names if you want?" Andy nodded gratefully at this as I scribbled the names of the three best hotels I knew in the city on a piece of paper. I couldn't picture Jeremy Clarkson in a cheap Syrian motel. Andy took the piece of paper, but still looked somewhat lost. "Listen," I said and put my arm on Andy's shoulder. "Why don't I go and get you a cup of coffee, you can go outside and call the others, maybe let them know what's going on? And then try to find a hotel for the night?"
"Yeah. I'll do that. Thanks," he shrugged and gave me an embarrassed smile. He was still in a bit of shock and was grateful for some guidance and simple instructions to follow.
"Er.. James?" God, I can't call him sir. Or Mister May? God, no. "I'll go find your mate here a cup of coffee and then I'll be right back, all right?" A grunt of confirmation came from the bed. I hurried out and into the little nurses station, poured coffee into a polystyrene cup and hurried back to 302. Andy was meandering outside, looking put upon. I handed him the cup and patted him on the back. "It'll be all right. He's going to be fine. By the way, that coffee will give you hairs on your eyeballs." He smiled appreciatively and shuffled towards the exit. I dove into the storage room and found what I needed for inserting an IV needle, and then hurried back. Calm down, you stupid woman. He's just a bloke you've seen on the telly. James was still on the bed, eyes closed.
"James?"
"Hm?" He opened bleary eyes and looked at me. I pulled a chair right up to the side of his bed and deposited my medical equipment on the nightstand.
"Remember my name?"
"Emily," he replied, looking mildly affronted, as if I thought he was senile.
"Good, good. I have to check that," I said showing my palms in a disarming gesture before looking at him intently. "So, how are you feeling?"
"Um... Not as nauseous as before. Head hurts a lot more, though. Still a bit dizzy and.. um.. fuzzy. Vision is a bit blurry."
"Pain anywhere else than your head?"
"Um, no... Well, back hurts a bit but I guess that's just from falling on it." He looked at me for confirmation.
"It probably is," I nodded calmly. "You scared?" The question caught him slightly by surprise, it was direct and personal.
"No..." He hesitated. "Well, I was a bit worried for a while, but no, not anymore."
"Good. Everything will be all right. Listen, I have to put this IV needle in your hand. You'll need some contrast for the CT, and then I'll get you some pain meds and some IV fluids later. Is that all right?" He just nodded slightly and proffered is left hand tiredly. God, please don't miss. Don't miss. Come on, don't miss.
"I'm not even going to bother about asking if you're peevish about needles, no man ever admits to be," I said as I unwrapped my equipment, poked around his hand for a vein and rubbed disinfectant on his skin. "There, all done," I said as I put the last bit of tape on his hand. Thank heavens. "Okay. Can I just have a look at your head?" I said and gestured to the cloth he was still holding to the back of his head. Another nod. I got up and gently placed my hand over his, carefully removing the cloth enough to see what was under there. The bleeding had stopped. It wasn't big, but looked deep and in need of a good cleaning. "Okay," I said and guided his hand back to hold the cloth there. "Keep the cloth there until after you've had your CT, I'll clean it out properly later. You don't have to put pressure on it, it's stopped bleeding. Want a glass of water?"
"Yes, please. Thank you," he said. Typical polite brit.
"I'll go find that for you, and some contrast, and let them know you're ready for CT in a bit." He gave a slight nod again, and I disappeared.
Ten minutes later I returned bearing a syringe full of contrast in one hand and a cup of icewater in the other. He had a drink and I injected the constrast dye. "You might feel a bit warm and weird after this. But it passes quickly."
"Oh, okay," he said quietly, I could tell by the look on his face that his head was really throbbing.
"They'll be in here in about ten or fifteen to take you to the CT."
"Won't you be there?" I could tell that the question had fallen out of his mouth before he'd had the time to stop himself. He looked sheepishly at me. Aaw. He wants me to stay with him. Oh, of course he wants to, you're the only one he can understand in this place. Stop flattering yourself.
"Mno, I won't be allowed in anyway. It won't take long though, just.. lie as still as possible if you don't understand their instructions. And I'll be here waiting with the disinfecting swabs when you and your headwound gets back," I smiled. He nodded his understanding. "Want to be left in peace for a bit?" Vague nod. "You won't fall asleep on me?" I raised a stern eyebrow at him.
"With this headache, that is quite the impossibility," he mumbled.
"Okay... See you after the scan, then," I said and shuffled silently out of the room.
"Oh, okay," he said quietly, I could tell by the look on his face that his head was really throbbing.
"They'll be in here in about ten or fifteen to take you to the CT."
"Won't you be there?" I could tell that the question had fallen out of his mouth before he'd had the time to stop himself. He looked sheepishly at me. Aaw. He wants me to stay with him. Oh, of course he wants to, you're the only one he can understand in this place. Stop flattering yourself.
"Mno, I won't be allowed in anyway. It won't take long though, just.. lie as still as possible if you don't understand their instructions. And I'll be here waiting with the disinfecting swabs when you and your headwound gets back," I smiled. He nodded his understanding. "Want to be left in peace for a bit?" Vague nod. "You won't fall asleep on me?" I raised a stern eyebrow at him.
"With this headache, that is quite the impossibility," he mumbled.
"Okay... See you after the scan, then," I said and shuffled silently out of the room.
I found Andy outside, seemingly just hanging up his phone. The coffee and fresh air seemed to have done him good, his colour was back and he seemed more composed.
"Everything all right?" I asked. I had brought a cup of coffee with me, and sat down on the stone balustrade framing the entrance to the hospital.
"Yes. Hotel sorted for everyone, most of them are heading there now. Thank you for the help."
"Good, that's good. I guess this kind of messed up your recording plans for a couple of days?"
"Yeah, a bit. But that doesn't matter really, all that matters is that he's OK."
"Of course!" I said and had a sip of coffee.
"How is he?"
"He's having the headache of his life, basically. He'll be scanned in a little while. Assuming everything is ok, which it will be, I'll sort out that gash in his head and knock him out with some painkillers."
"Can he have visitors? Jeremy and Richard wanted to..." Oh god, the other two might come here.
"Yeah, sure, in a few hours. But not for long, and they can't wind him up too much. He needs lots of quiet now. No TV, no phones, no silly mates taking the piss."
"I take it you've watched Top Gear quite a bit, huh?" Far too much to admit.
"Enough to know how those three can be, yeah."
"All right, I'll tell them to hold off for a couple of hours, and to behave when they're here."
"Listen, I have a suggestion. Go to the hotel, get some food, relax for a bit. You've had a trying day, all of you. Leave your number and I can call you later when he's ready for visitors?" Andy agreed to this, and called someone in his crew and asked to be picked up.
"Everything all right?" I asked. I had brought a cup of coffee with me, and sat down on the stone balustrade framing the entrance to the hospital.
"Yes. Hotel sorted for everyone, most of them are heading there now. Thank you for the help."
"Good, that's good. I guess this kind of messed up your recording plans for a couple of days?"
"Yeah, a bit. But that doesn't matter really, all that matters is that he's OK."
"Of course!" I said and had a sip of coffee.
"How is he?"
"He's having the headache of his life, basically. He'll be scanned in a little while. Assuming everything is ok, which it will be, I'll sort out that gash in his head and knock him out with some painkillers."
"Can he have visitors? Jeremy and Richard wanted to..." Oh god, the other two might come here.
"Yeah, sure, in a few hours. But not for long, and they can't wind him up too much. He needs lots of quiet now. No TV, no phones, no silly mates taking the piss."
"I take it you've watched Top Gear quite a bit, huh?" Far too much to admit.
"Enough to know how those three can be, yeah."
"All right, I'll tell them to hold off for a couple of hours, and to behave when they're here."
"Listen, I have a suggestion. Go to the hotel, get some food, relax for a bit. You've had a trying day, all of you. Leave your number and I can call you later when he's ready for visitors?" Andy agreed to this, and called someone in his crew and asked to be picked up.
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