Dr Creosote enters the room. Worn down by the years that he has been taking on the burdens of others, he has obviously failed to look after his own health. Looked down on by those who can barely conceal their disgust for what he has become, he struggles to make it to his table but, having somehow managed to do so, he sits down and is attended to by the maitre d’
MAITRE D: Ah, good afternoon, sir, and how are we today?
DR. CREOSOTE: Better.
MAITRE D: Better?
DR. CREOSOTE: Better open another ward, we’re going to need the extra beds.
MAITRE D: Uh, Gaston! Another ward for le bon docteur!
Gaston hurries off and seeks permission to open a previous decommissioned ward but his request is refused with those holding the purse strings insisting that Dr Creosote be forced to work within the restrictive budget he has been set. Back at the coalface, the maitre d’ is updating Dr Creosote on what he is likely to have to manage during his working day.
MAITRE D: Now, zis morning, we have tous vos favoris: ze young man with a community acquired pneumonia who is experiencing acute respiratory failure, ze unresponsive elderly gentleman who has suffered a catastrophic subarachnoid haemorrhage and who now has a GCS score of just 3, and ze infant who has a rapidly spreading non blanching rash consistent with a diagnosis of meningococcal septicaemia. Oh and we have ze middle aged woman who is experiencing abdominal pain – her aorta appears to be dissecting, and, given her extreme tachycardia and alarming hypotension, it would appear you need to act immediately if her prognosis is to be anything other than extremely poor.
DR. CREOSOTE: We really are going to need those extra beds, and a good number of additional staff too.
MAITRE D: Je regrette docteur, ce n’est pas possible. But allow me to tell you what else is on ze menu for today.
DR. CREOSOTE: Well please do hurry up, I need to get on!
MAITRE D: Of course monsieur. Let me begin. For appetizers, we have a smorgasbord of viral illnesses, gastrointestinal upsets, and urinary tract infections. Then we can offer you numerous folk who are suffering from poor mental health, ranging form those who are severely anxious to those expressing suicidal thoughts. In addition we have a plethora of those who might be considered ze ‘worried well’ but do nonetheless come with a generous helping of symptoms that might suggest more sinister pathology. And then we have a few who seem to be entirely well but have a presenting complaint that is so subtle that only those with exceptional discernment will be able to appreciate how they have the merest hint of malignant disease.
DR. CREOSOTE: Well it would appear that there’s a lot on my plate today. Given there’s nothing on your list that I can ignore, it seems I must endeavour to manage all that you have to offer me.
MAITRE D: A wise choice, monsieur. And how would you like it served?
DR. CREOSOTE: Served?
MAITRE D: Would monsieur prefer the standard and outdated IT or perhaps the more modern computer software which is guaranteed to crash throughout the day and always at the least convenient of moments.
DR. CREOSOTE: Put like that, the choice seems an impossible one.
MAITRE D: Oh, monsieur, I assure you, just because neither option is a satisfactory one, we would not dream of demanding anything less than far more than you could ever possibly achieve. In fact, I will personally make sure that you have a double helping. Mais maintenant, quelque chose dont tu dois t’inquiéter? What would you like to worry about?
DR CREOSOTE: We’ll, I’d like to be intensely anxious about whether I’ll be sued.
MAITRE D: ‘Whether you’ll be sued’, very good monsieur.
DR. CREOSOTE: …and whether it means I’m not up to my job when one of the hundreds of patients I’ve treated expresses some unhappiness with the care I’ve shown them.
MAITRE D: Naturally, sir, I’ll see to it right away.
DR. CREOSOTE: And could you perhaps ensure that I’m consistently undervalued by those who run the health service at a national level?
MAITRE D: Of course monsieur, that comes as standard.
Dr Creosote starts to work his way through the overwhelming numbers of sick and suffering individuals who are brought to him in their need. Periodically he calls for more hospital beds and additional staff, but his cries for help fall on deaf ears. Still the patients keep coming until finally it seems that there is no one else for him to see. And then the maitre d’ returns. Dr Creosote is groaning in obvious distress, the inevitable response to all that he has had to endure.
MAITRE D: And finally Dr Creosote, one last patient with an incy wincy problem.
DR. CREOSOTE: Nah.
MAITRE D: Oh, sir, it’s only a tiny, little, problem.
DR. CREOSOTE: No. Go away. I can’t manage anymore.
MAITRE D: (disappointedly) Oh, sir.
DR. CREOSOTE: (groaning)
MAITRE D: It’s a mere trifle of a problem
MR. CREOSOTE: Look. I can’t cope with any more, I’m absolutely shattered. Clear off.
MAITRE D: (pleadingly) Oh, sir, just one insy winsy one?
MR. CREOSOTE: (groaning) Oh all right. Just one though.
MAITRE D: Just the one it us, monsieur. Voila. My seborrhoeic wart!
MR. CREOSOTE: (groaning)
MAITRE D: Is it serious doc?
MR. CREOSOTE: (groaning)
Suspenseful music builds as Dr Creosote begins to slowly expand, moaning and groaning as he does so. Eventually the music reaches a crescendo and with an ear shattering climax comes to an abrupt end as Dr Creosote implodes, rendering himself incapable of ever seeing another patient ever again.
MAITRE D: How pathetic. Fancy not to be able to cope with such a trivial concern. I’ve a good mind to complain.
[With apologies to Monty Python]
Other unlikely tales – beginning with four more inspired by Monty Python:
To read ‘The NHS Emporium’, click here
To read ‘The Dead NHS Sketch’, click here
To read ‘Monty Python and the NHS’, click here
To read ‘The Four Clinicians Sketch’, click here
To read ‘the day LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD got sick’ click here
To read ‘Mr Benn – the GP’, click here
To read ‘A GP called Paddington’, click here
To read ‘Scooby Doo and the Deserted Medical Centre’, click here
To read ‘Paddington and the Ailing Elderly Relative’, click here
To read ‘Dr Jonathan Harker and the post evening surgery home visit’, click here
To read ‘Bagpuss and the NHS’, click here
To read ‘Jeeves and the Hormone Deficiency’, click here
To read ‘Jeepy Leepy and the NHS’, click here
To read ‘The Three Little GPs and the Big Bad Secretary of State for Health’, click here
To read ‘A Dream of an Antiques Roadshow’, click here
To read ‘Mr McGregor’s Revenge – A Tale of Peter Rabbit’, click here
To read ‘The Scrooge Chronicles’, click here
To read ‘Dr Wordle and the Mystery Diagnosis’, click here
To read ‘The Happy Practice – A Cautionary Tale’, click here
To read ‘The Three General Practitioners Gruff’, click here
To read ‘General Practices are Go!’, click here
To read ‘A Mission Impossible’, click here
To read ‘A Grimm Tale’, click here
To read ‘The General Practitioner – Endangered’, click here
To read ‘The State of Disrepair Shop’, click here
Other blogs with a cricketing them and a considerable nod to Monty Python:
To read ‘The Somerset Player Emporium’, click here
To read ‘A Song for Brian’, click here
To read ‘A Cricket Taunt’, click here
Some musings 