‘Janet. We have to move these patients on. In 2 hours. You know the protocols.’

She watched Doctor Pattinson scurry away. She’d neither make eye contact nor write down her instruction. Of course not. Yesterday it was a ‘deriliction of her responsibilities’ not to triage the A&E arrivals in the Trust’s target time. Another occasion and Pattison told her she would personally ‘ruin’ the hospital’s hopes in the next funding round if she didn’t ‘build’ on their great ‘foundations’.

Janet’s mind slipped briefly from the chaos of her reality to the little tumbledown cottage, patiently waiting for her time, her care and attention. Soon she’d retire from the dystopian nightmare of the NHS and enjoy the fruits of her years of targets, and goals and restructures and over optimistic hopes. She looked at the form she had just completed and watched the patient, Grace Oldham, as the orderly rolled her chair towards the toilets. She was off the X ray next. Janet competed the box ‘in X-ray’ and added the time. She should wait until the patient was back and on her way but how long does a wee take? She’d be in X-ray in next to no time.

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