Charm
A/N: I've decided to put the rest of the Milverton story arc on hold for now, given the fact that there are some high-profile and deeply sad court cases going on both here in the UK and in the States. As a result of this (and having finished my last piece of coursework until Dissertation Day befalls me), here be fluff. A PRHO (Pre-Registration House Officer) is the old name for an F1 junior doctor, which means someone who has just graduated from medical school and has begun undertaking rotations in a hospital environment to train and gain experience. Consultants (the higher-ups, at the same point as a senior Attending) tend to use Miss, Mr or Mrs as a title, rather than Dr. Also: as someone whose grandparents are all ill in their own ways (one with severe dementia), this chapter and the next are both written with as much compassion as I can muster. That said, there is a bit of gallows humour, so I'm sorry if it offends anyone! If it does, please let me know and I'll edit it out. bookgirlfan's review made me think-none of the medical students or doctors I've ever heard would say the exact things that crop up in the bit about what people at the hospital call Gerontology, but I can imagine there are quite a few salty nicknames for things floating about! Quite a lot of medical student chat comes with a healthy dose of dark humour, more as a coping mechanism than anything.
Mel looked up from the discharge forms spread out of the desk in front of her as she heard the familiar creak of the double doors at the end of the corridor. Smirking at Jeannie, she turned and whispered, "Fresh meat!"
Her suspicions proved correct as an impossibly young-looking man poked his head 'round the corner. His slim stature and dimply grin gave him the look of a mischievous schoolboy, and his wide blue eyes gave him an air of innocence. She could tell by the meticulously ironed shirt and the box-fresh trainers that he was a new starter, and resolved to induct him with the obligatory prank before the day was out.
"Hello! I'm John, one of the new pre-reg junior doctors? I'm looking for Mr Salim."
He gave her a winning, sunny smile so big that she couldn't help but smile back at him, taking the hand he proffered and shaking it vigorously.
"Mel Eaves, Senior Ward Sister. This is Jeannie Heywood, our Senior Charge Nurse."
He shook Jeannie's hand with the same sure grip, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder and striding off down the corridor after her as she showed him to the staff room.
Most of the students, craving what they saw as the drama and adrenaline of A&E or surgery, lumped Gerontology together with Psychiatry and Dermatology as the departments you went into if you couldn't hack the 'real' medical work-looking after the minor problems and age-related illnesses that came with getting older. The nicer ones referred to it as 'biscuit-and-blether' medicine; those with a bit less compassion called it 'The Graveyard Shift' or, worse, D.R.A.T.T.T.-'Dottled, Really Ancient, and Talking Total Twaddle.' As he took his tour around the ward, though, Mel could see that John would fit right in with the rest of the staff, for whom working with the elderly was a chance to keep people's lives dignified for as long as possible. She'd seen her own mum slide into dementia's inelegant and grasping clutches, noticing what else was missing of her old mum every time she visited. She had switched to Gerontology from Respiratory then, with the acute feeling that even if she couldn't get her mum back she could damn well try to do right by her patients.
By the third day, it had become apparent that while John's hopes for his career lay in surgery, he was also an excellent medical doctor. She watched proudly as the young man, struggling to get a cannula into Mrs Williams' arm, put the nervous woman at her ease whilst simultaneously answering her daughter's questions and keeping a sneaky eye on how much was left of her lunch. As he left with a cheery, "Bye, Marjorie! See you later, my darling!," Mel caught sight of Linda Williams' eyes following the young man down the corridor with a suspiciously watery sheen.
When she went in to give Marjorie another cuppa after visiting hours had ended, the older woman turned to her, grasping her arm firmly and looking up at her. Her fiercely intelligent eyes shone in the dim evening light as Mel set her cup at her right hand. Her Welsh lilt bubbled up out of her throat, strong and reedy at the same time, as she said with a smile, "That new young doctor's very nice, isn't he? He came in before he left to see how I was getting on, even though that lovely Indian man's my consultant. He makes you feel sort of-well, sort of like you're the only person that matters to him when he's talking to you, doesn't he? He sat right there, right on the bed, and held my hand while he was talking to me, and wouldn't leave until he was sure I was alright for the evening. Charming! Handsome, too-he looks like a film star, don't you think? Like, oh, what's his name? The one with the blue eyes? Paul Newman! Him when he was very young! I'm surprised half you girls haven't fallen for him yet!"
She giggled, taking a long sip of tea, her keen eyes crinkling at the corners as she took in the fond amusement on Mel's face. "In case you haven't noticed, Marjorie, I'm already married! You scarlet woman!"
She left Mrs Williams to her tea as she padded back to the desk, her tinkling laughter dancing in her ears as she looked askance at Jeannie.
"You're blushing! Don't tell me you've got the hots for John..."
Jeannie looked away pointedly at that, mumbling something about him being 'a really nice guy' and 'charming' and 'charisma'. Mel snorted loudly into her coffee, turning the page on the last analgesics form of the shift.