Thursday, July 07, 2005
Terror In London
Debbie passed me the proseal laryngeal mask by the anaesthetic room door this morning and muttered something about bombing.
“You heard me Naj, bombs went off in London” and left in a hurry to fetch the patient in reception like a guilty messenger.
You see my ODAs quite often than not turn up at work with alcohol level only just below the critical level so I didn’t pay much attention, most of the time.
For example, when I once said I needed to give the patient (male) a few puffs before transfer while squeezing the bag on the machine vigorously, they sniggered and called me a dirty little minx. That’s how tipsy they are, sometimes, wait, most times. I don’t even know what they mean by ‘giving puffs’, you know being innocent and all. I should pick my words better.
Anyway, it was only when I met ITU girls and Kevin in the pantry for coffee did I see it all on the TV. They were all glued to it and nobody said a word.
The one on the bus from Hackney to Marble Arch went off just outside BMA (British Medical Association) building which is a few blocks away from the Royal College of Anaesthetists. Walking wounded casualties gave clues to the magnitude of the blast. The spluttering of blood and soot from the explosion clearly seen on the buildings nearby.
Only 3 months ago I was sitting right opposite that spot in Tavistock Garden having my sandwich staring at Mahatma Gandhi’s solemn statue after my FRCA exam. Behind me was the BMA building. I glanced at the blue door and remember saying ‘So this is where BMA people hide’. I used the bus, I used the underground. Anybody would when they have to get around London.
What a tragedy for those suffering from 2nd degree burn, broken limbs, head and chest wounds and on ICU now. Even bigger tragedy for those lives lost.
Farah, Shemeen, Mona, Erisa, Aamton, Rania, Sujatha, all commute to hospitals in central London. You guys better return my calls soon or text.
Be safe.
“You heard me Naj, bombs went off in London” and left in a hurry to fetch the patient in reception like a guilty messenger.
You see my ODAs quite often than not turn up at work with alcohol level only just below the critical level so I didn’t pay much attention, most of the time.
For example, when I once said I needed to give the patient (male) a few puffs before transfer while squeezing the bag on the machine vigorously, they sniggered and called me a dirty little minx. That’s how tipsy they are, sometimes, wait, most times. I don’t even know what they mean by ‘giving puffs’, you know being innocent and all. I should pick my words better.
Anyway, it was only when I met ITU girls and Kevin in the pantry for coffee did I see it all on the TV. They were all glued to it and nobody said a word.
The one on the bus from Hackney to Marble Arch went off just outside BMA (British Medical Association) building which is a few blocks away from the Royal College of Anaesthetists. Walking wounded casualties gave clues to the magnitude of the blast. The spluttering of blood and soot from the explosion clearly seen on the buildings nearby.
Only 3 months ago I was sitting right opposite that spot in Tavistock Garden having my sandwich staring at Mahatma Gandhi’s solemn statue after my FRCA exam. Behind me was the BMA building. I glanced at the blue door and remember saying ‘So this is where BMA people hide’. I used the bus, I used the underground. Anybody would when they have to get around London.
What a tragedy for those suffering from 2nd degree burn, broken limbs, head and chest wounds and on ICU now. Even bigger tragedy for those lives lost.
Farah, Shemeen, Mona, Erisa, Aamton, Rania, Sujatha, all commute to hospitals in central London. You guys better return my calls soon or text.
Be safe.
