Ronnie and Jules are an Item
In those days, working on call was very onerous. Your turn came around often and there was so much to do from 8pm-8am. There were no mobile phones, only bleeps, and they had a limited range so you had to live in the hospital when on call. Between calls, you hung about in the juniors’ “mess” which was a bit of a slum. Time-passing when not working consisted of watching rubbish TV, reading the paper and trashy magazines, eating pizzas and snoozing.
Ronnie, already a bit of a dreamer, was besotted. He saw Jules everywhere –even in his coffee cup- and he doodled her name absent-mindedly all the time. He couldn’t concentrate; she was lovely and unforgettable. He was on call the night before his big presentation at the Grand Round meeting – this was potentially his big moment as it would give him a chance to shine in front of the top Professors. On his break, he strolled by the river over to the Rowing Club taking in the refreshing night air while musing about the party he had gate-crashed and how he had met Jules.
Illustration by Bill Morris
The club was quiet now, and in darkness. Suddenly, a shaft of light broke the night and he saw Jules come out onto the balcony. It reminded him of the scene in Romeo and Juliet when Romeo gasped: “it is the east and Juliet is the sun.”
Madly in love, he climbed the fire escape in all haste and declared his undying love to a startled Jules. She too declared her love for him and they spoke of nothing else all night.
Jules suddenly broke away as she remembered that she couldn’t be seen with Ronnie because of the tensions between Prof Sharkey (her man) and Prof Jett (his man). Bleep, Bleep, Bleep. The pager summoned her away: “Jules ring switch for a call.” Bleep, Bleep, Bleep. “I must go, sorry” she said. Ronnie’s best friend, Dr. Goodwill, spotted him and dragged him away. “You need to prepare for the Grand Round tomorrow, come away” he implored.
Ronnie spent the rest of the night in the library preparing for his appearance at the Grand Round. In those days, there was no fancy PowerPoint, only mundane handwritten overheads and a few photographs, if you could work out how to get them onto an overhead, or work the 35-mm projector. It was all so cumbersome but Ronnie worked on his overheads until his pens ran dry. He saw Jules’ face everywhere and he smiled at her constantly. “Don’t forget to take a spare bulb,” Dr. Goodwill said as he bade Ronnie goodnight, “that overhead projector always has a blown bulb.”
Big Bust-up at The Grand Round
Illustration by Bill Morris
Ronnie really needed to give a good impression at the meeting as he was desperate to stay on Prof Jett’s firm. His overheads were neatly written, and he had his spare bulb in his pocket; he was ready. He turned up early to practise as the cleaners looked on benevolently. Standing in the pit of the lecture theatre was intimidating as Ronnie imagined the view from the floor up to the racks at the back filled with sceptical know-alls who would soon cross-examine him without mercy. This intellectual joust was meant to develop a better understanding of the case but it often degraded into silliness and game-playing – noble it was not.
The moment of truth was arriving as the theatre filled. Ronnie’s butterflies got the better of him and he dropped his overheads. He had to sort them quickly as Prof Jett was already on his feet introducing him. Panicked, poor Ronnie went to the overhead projector and placed his first slide on the glass plate. As he did, a bead of sweat dropped from his forehead onto the slide and Splof, the ink ran and laughter ensued.
As Ronnie closed his presentation, Dr. Goodwill on his flank gave him an encouraging thumbs-up sign. Their relief was short-lived when they saw who rose to challenge the presentation: Dr. Tibbles, Prof Sharkey’s dirty street fighter. His opening salvo hurt: “Ridiculous, weak, lacks analytical clarity.” Ronnie, not wanting to offend anyone, least of all Tibby and Prof Sharkey, gave a polite rebuttal. Cruel goading and jokes followed as Ronnie tried to calm the inflamed situation; Tibby wanted a fight.
Springing to Ronnie’s defence, Dr. Messenger got to his feet and shouted Tibby down. Yaboo, howling and hollering rose from the audience as common civility got lost in the rising tide of testosterone-fuelled shouting. Ronnie tried to calm things down to no avail as pushing and shoving broke out. “You owe us an oar” – that broken oar brawl, and its long history, recycled itself here in the Main Lecture Theatre of St. Angela’s University Teaching Hospital on the occasion of the Grand Round.
Illustration by Bill Morris
The cacophony was broken by a sudden Crash–Bang–Wallop as the cranky old overhead projector smashed on the floor. Silence at last and sharp intakes of breath. Embarrassed, people slipped away. Dr. Goodwill led a stunned Ronnie to the door. Mmm, I thought, “team-building” won’t help this deep-rooted problem.
Suspension and Isolation
The Chief Executive, Alex, exasperated, called for an emergency meeting, again. He took advice from Sue, his ever-supportive legal expert on handling such bust-ups. Suspension from duty is technically a neutral act to take the heat out of a situation and to create some space for an inquiry. But, for medical staff, it means they cannot practise, so a prolonged period of suspension from duty means that they will become out of date and possibly deskilled. It is professional death for most medics.
Dr. Tibbles was first to be suspended. His boss and champion, Prof Sharkey, spoke up for him and pleaded for a low-grade dressing-down to no avail. Alex, fed up of it all, wanted him out. Dr. Messenger likewise was suspended despite his boss and champion, Prof Jett, pleading for his position. Sue handled the paperwork and gave both a copy of the rules for conduct while on suspension, the most important being that there was to be no contact on either side. Isolation, professional death – what a waste.
Ronnie, being more junior, was banished to a God-forsaken rural hospital 200 miles away in Manthaven. Sue had “saved” him as a result of special pleading by Prof Jett. She had fixed a transfer of his training place to a new pupil-master, an old friend of Prof Jett. But it was not a good move for him as his training at the prestigious St. Angela’s was at an end. His old friend Dr. Goodwill could offer no comforting words as both realised its professional, and practical, implications.
And what of Jules? He had just found the love of his life and now he was being sent far away. Tomorrow. He might not be able to see her before his transfer. He, being shunned, might never be able to speak to, or see, her again.
Ronnie and Dr. Goodwill were devastated at the prospect. A new start? Tomorrow? No Jules? Desperate, Ronnie was determined to see her, to make his farewells, before his banishment.
Weeping and Parting
Miss Nurse was at her desk when she told Jules of the afternoon’s bust-up and Ronnie’s exile. A box of tissues lay on the desk between her and Jules. Weeping, Jules cried over and over again: “he’s innocent;
he’s gone; he said he loved me.” The kindly Miss Nurse suggested she put the whole thing behind her and get on with her studies and exams. And she suggested that Jules might care to look at Mr. Paris, who had asked after her, as an alternative…
This was not the time for Jules to think of Mr. Paris, and even if she did, the thought revolted her. Tears, weeping, tissues. The cycle continued as the heartbroken Jules drifted about the place in a depressed daze. And then she had a brainwave – she could apply for a transfer to join Ronnie. She resolved to see Mr. Lawrence Fryer, the Chief Pharmacist, in secret to see what could be done.
Sue’s office was very efficient so Ronnie’s train to Manthaven and banishment had been booked for early next morning. Time was short. He had to talk to Jules, and of course there were no mobile phones in those days. He had been excluded from the campus so he had to wait for the cover of darkness to sneak along the river bank to the Rowing Club. Tapping on the window, he called for Maria’s help. She was there to help set up the end of the month pay day party planned for the next day. She was startled; he looked haunted.
“Maria, please help me,” he begged, “bleep Jules for me?” Ever helpful, Maria phoned Jean on the switchboard and asked her to call Jules to the Rowing Club as a matter of urgency. Bleep, Bleep, Bleep. “Jules to the Club.” Bleep, Bleep, Bleep. Jules, being on call, obeyed the instruction and Maria, who met her at the door, showed her to the pantry where Ronnie was waiting.
“Going away?; where’s Manthaven?; when are you coming back?” The questions stuttered from Jules in-between the tears and weeping. Maria handed her a box of tissues. “I’ll be back,” said Ronnie as the dawn broke, “I’ve got to go for my train now;” “I’ll be here,” said Jules as they bade a tearful farewell.
Meanwhile, Is Something Murky Going On?
Why had Alex, and Sue, been so keen to get these medics off the scene? That was the burning question at the pay day party. It was a sombre affair, full of serious talk and gossip. “Who did what?; who smashed the overhead? Was it deliberate? Where are they now?; what’s happening?” There was talk of “murky goings on”, talk of an inquiry, but into what? No-one knew.
Mr. Lawrence Fryer, the Chief Pharmacist, had been observed on the security camera late one evening hurrying down one of the endless white-walled corridors of the pharmacy. That was strange, as he did not have to work on call – that was for the juniors. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand so the security man thought that it must be work and official, despite the late hour. Funny what an air of authority a bundle of papers can convey.
Mr. Fryer had his own keys to the Clinical Trials Unit where there were no cameras. He bustled about in there for ages, doing what?
The shelved walls were stacked with files which all looked identical. What was he looking for? Ah, he found it, the Verona Pharmaceuticals(VP) Clinical Trial File: HGH 141, marked in bold: CONFIDENTIAL; NOT TO BE REMOVED; AUTHORISED SIGNATORY: MISS NURSE.
Meanwhile, Mr. Paris and his colleagues had been watching VP’s unexplained share price movements. Mindful of the financial regulator, they decided to involve them in a Stock Market Inquiry to check who was buying and selling. Did someone on the trading floor, or adviser, have insider information, say about the results of an ongoing clinical trial? That would be a serious crime. Anyone caught faced heavy penalties, including jail time.
Alex, our weary Chief Executive, was told of VP’s concerns and the forthcoming police investigation. He was also concerned about the possibility that someone was tampering with St. Angela’s trial submissions which might result in the incorrect determination of a future dosing schedule. Clinical trial submissions from hospitals like St. Angela’s are brought together by a company’s regulatory affairs division who then prepare the evidence for a trial drug’s licence. This includes the proposed dosing schedule. You don’t mess with the Medicines Licensing Authority.
Old Lady by the Sea 