“Double expresso to go, please Tom.”
“Night shift, huh?”
“Should’ve stayed in Byron Bay.”
Night shifts at St Vincent’s were pure Adrenalin, but Saturday nights were insane. Yet, I couldn’t walk away. This was medicine. Real medicine.
“M…m..my daughter…Have you s..s..seen my d..d..daughter?”
The faces on the photos kept changing, but the anguish was always the same.
I refused to look at the photos anymore. Tried to zone her voice out. You could drown in Emergency, if you didn’t hold a piece of yourself back.
“Sh…sh…she has carpe diem tattooed on her ankle with a p…p…purple b…b…butterfly.”
I couldn’t speak.
This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Butolt.
Last Friday afternoon, we took our son to Emergency at our local hospital for what seems to be migraine auras without the headache. We were very stressed and were naturally concerned he might have a brain tumour or some form of serious neurological problem. However, we were told it wasn’t acute and so we found ourselves down at the waterfront having dinner at what we would call a street cafe, but it looks very similar to a diner.
St Vincent’s Hospital, Darlinghurst is right in the thick of things near Kings Cross in Sydney’s red light district. Thought you might appreciate reading about a typical Saturday night in their Emergency Department.
I Also wanted to share a bit of real-life excitement here on the home front. Last Monday morning, we were expecting a visit from the host of our local breakfast show, Rabbit, who was popping around with a prize. Well, the prize turned out to be a surprise visit from his co-host, Julie Goodwin, Australia’s first Masterchef. They filmed it and posted a clip on their Facebook page. I thought you might enjoy hearing me, although my mother said they could’ve captured more of my serious side.Here’s the link