Off her trolley



a&EMaisie is in hospital after having a bit of a fall. She’ll be OK but the doctors are keeping an eye on her for a few days because she banged her head. She gets regular visits from the doctor and his team to ask her a series of questions to make sure the knock to her head didn’t affect her memory. We were in A&E for over twenty four hours waiting for a bed.

  • Good morning Margaret and how are you?
  • You can call me Maisie, only my poor mother called me Margaret, lord rest her
  • So how are we feeling this morning?
  • Well, I’m grand, considering I never got a wink of sleep, there’s nothing but winos and junkies causing commotion all night and there’s hardly any staff on duty…and how are you?
  • Fine…fine…I’m fine. So, I have the results of your X ray and everything seems fine
  • So, can I go home ?
  • No, I’m sorry, we’ll be holding on to you for a few days Marg…em Maisie
  • Oh so you have a bed for me then?
  • Not yet, soon
  • You said that last night son, and I’ll tell you this for nothing, I’m not spending another night on this bloody trolley on a corridor for every passerby to gawp at
  • I’m sorry, but we’re very busy and…
  • Would you allow your mother spend a night in this place?
  • Well, I wouldn’t like to, no
  • Well there you go. If it’s not good enough for your mother, why should it  be good enough for me?
  • Emmm, I just wanted to ask you a few questions if that’s ok
  • More questions?
  • It won’t take long
  • You asked me loads of questions when I got here, and your friend asked me the same ones again at ten o’clock last night. Do you not tell each other anything in this place?
  • I need to ask again I’m sorry. We need to make sure…
  • …that I haven’t lost me marbles…yeah yeah
  • No, it’s not that, it’s…
  • Oh just ask me for Gods sake
  • Do you know what day it is today?
  • Well, I was brought in on Monday, I’m still on a trolley in A&E waiting for a bed, so it must be….Friday?
  • It’s Tuesday
  • Is that all? It feels longer, these bloody trolleys would kill your back
  • Can you tell me what year it is?
  • Well it feels like 1974 and I’m in an episode of M.A.S.H but rumour has it it’s 2018
  • Do you know who the President is?
  • Why? Is he looking for a bed?
  • No no no, I just need to know if you can tell me his name
  • Just as well, he’d be a long time waiting
  • His name?
  • Oh is it not Mary McAleese anymore?
  • No, I’m afraid not
  • Mary Robinson?
  • he was before Mary McAleese
  • Very good doctor, and who was before her?
  • I’m meant to be asking you the questions
  • Aww do you not know the’s Patrick Hillery
  • ….
  • What are you looking at me like that for?Patrick Hillery was so the president before Mary Robinson, and O’Dálaigh was before him
  • But who is the president now?
  • Michael D is of course…well he was before I checked in to this place. They could have had another election the length of time I’m lying here waiting for a bed
  • Yes, it is still Michael D
  • Lovely man, and his wife is lovely too; what’s her name again? Sabrina, isn’t it?
  • Sabina
  • That’s it, Sabina; She must’ve dropped the ‘R’. Sabrina isn’t very presidents wife is it?
  • Can you remember what year you were born?
  • I can
  • Can you tell me?
  • No
  • So you can’t remember?
  • Yes I can but I’m not telling you
  • But…
  • I told you yesterday, and I told your colleague last night…a ladies age is her own business and nothing to do with you so don’t ask me again, now feck off with your questions
  • I’ve just a few more….
  • I’ve a question for you doctor
  • Yes?
  • When am I getting a bed?
  • I don’t actually know yet Marg…Maisie
  • Well, I’ll tell you what; When you have the answer to that one, come back to me
  • I’ll see what I can do
  • Bye now
  • I’ll come back later
  • Well, only if  it’s to tell me you either have a bed for me or I can go home
  • But…
  • But nothing, and tell that nurse to bring me a cup of tea. I’m bloody parching


I’m surprised they gave her a bed at all  :p



9 thoughts on “Off her trolley

  1. After my mother had a stroke, a doctor asked her the year, the date, and who the president was. (This was in the U.S. and the answer was Bush.) “I can’t remember his name,” she said, “but I do remember that he’s a son of a bitch.”

    I’m not sure how the doctor scored it, but I’d have given her full marks.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. There should be a post trauma group for those of us who survived nights on the trolleys…
    Trollied, Ignored and Questioned… The TIQ’s


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