Never again

Four pairs of eyes.

Gazing at a sentence on a piece of paper about half the size of an A4. A consultant, his registrar and two medical students. The registrar speaks first. "She's your patient from before isn't she?" Consultant doesn't look too happy. It's hard, telling someone that she may be terminally ill.

Patient in the room, consultant explaining the results to her. Watching a woman suddenly break into tears is something I've not become used to seeing yet. Found myself wishing I was elsewhere, that I suddenly intruded in on a private moment that I had no right to witness. While I'm dwelling on things, the patient is being told she needs to stay for another test to determine extent of the disease.

Patient exits, and consultant makes the call for the test. It is then that he realises his mistake. Being slower than usual (afternoon post lunch syndrome), it takes me a while to get it. When I do get it, I feel even worse than before.

Four pairs of eyes..

Gazing at the test results, all failing to spot the unfamiliar name at the top of the page. The consultant throws the notes on the floor in anger. We've gone and told the patient she's had something she doesn't have. And someone else is in for some bad news.

There may be mistakes that I'll definitely make later on, but this is one which I hope will not happen again.