Room: 312 Date: 5 December 2006
Thank you for taking my call and apologies for interrupting your session. Further to the brief outline I gave you over the phone, please find further details below. I’ve since questioned my staff to see if anyone else has had a run-in with Charles, and several have reported a refusal to answer questions, being sworn at, an almost permanent anger and suspicion about medication and analgesia. There’s no question in my mind that he’s targeting the female nurses, since none of the male nurses made any complaints.
FYI: One of the auxiliaries – Tracey Fielding – told me he ordered her to ‘take her fucking hands’ off him this morning when she tried to straighten his bed. Tracey says he spoke quite fluently and she had no trouble understanding him. She decided to treat it as a joke and answered, ‘You should be so lucky,’ but abandoned the bed-making because Charles was clearly on edge.
The two incidents I mentioned to you over the phone were also directed at women, myself being one, and both involved violence or threats of violence. They are:
1. Yesterday evening, Charles lost his temper with his mother. She told me she was trying to comb his hair when he caught her by the wrist and forced her arm on to the bed. She said he looked ‘absolutely furious’ and twisted her hand backwards until she was kneeling on the floor. It was only because her husband came into the room and managed to release her that Charles didn’t hurt her badly. Both parents are understandably upset and I suggested they stay away for twenty-four hours. I’d like you to talk to them about going home for good. While no one can condone Charles’s behaviour, it’s clear to all of us that his mother is driving him mad. She calls him ‘her little boy’ (!!!) both to his face and in front of others.
2. As soon as Mr and Mrs Acland left, I went to check on Charles. His door was closed, he’d detached himself from his drips and he was standing by the window. I invited him to get back into bed. When he took no notice, I walked towards the buzzer to call for assistance, and he moved in front of me to stop me doing it. Upright and with clenched fists, he’s over six feet and very intimidating. I warned him that his behaviour was unacceptable, and he said quite clearly, ‘I don’t give a shit.’ To avoid provoking him further, I left the room. When I returned five minutes later with a male nurse and a security guard, Charles was back in bed and reattached to his drips. Correctly! He was very pale, and I think he gave himself a scare, but he’s a damn sight more ‘with it’ than any of us realized. His recovery speed is extraordinary.
I’d appreciate a visit ASAP after your return from Warwick. Pro tem, I’ve re-rostered the staff so that Charles has only male attendants, but there aren’t enough available to make the rota workable for more than 48 hours. I’m also concerned that his mother won’t stay away. FYI: I will be on station till 17.00 but am contactable at home on 821581.
SNO Samantha Gridling, Nursing Station 3
Two
WILLIS DREW UP A CHAIR beside Acland’s bed and placed his notes on his knee. If he’d had any doubt that his presence in the room was unwelcome, it was confirmed by the young man’s stony indifference as he stared at the wall in front of him. ‘I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you, Charles. The good news is that your parents have decided to go home and the bad news is that Tony Galbraith almost certainly gave you an exaggerated picture of what is achievable through reconstructive surgery.’
At least he had Acland’s attention. The lieutenant’s good eye flickered briefly in his direction.
‘The surgeons will do what they can, but in the end you’ll have to decide for yourself how much scarring you’re prepared to live with. It’s about learning to live with a different face. However good your medical team, however well you manage your own expectations, there will always be a gap between what you hope for and what is possible.’
Acland gave a grunt of what sounded like amusement. ‘It must be worse than I thought if a shrink has to break the news.’
Willis avoided remarking on the improvement in his speech. ‘It’s not pretty,’ he agreed frankly. ‘The shrapnel burned the flesh down to the bone and took your eyelid and most of your eye. Realistically, you should expect some permanent scarring and problems with the nerve and muscle functions on that side of your face.’
‘Message received and understood. Will try to be realistic, sir.’
Willis smiled. ‘Robert will do just fine, Charles. I’m not in the army. I’m a civilian psychiatrist who specializes in dealing with trauma.’
‘To the head?’
‘Not necessarily. Most injured men experience difficulty making the transition from active service to inactive patient. I gather you’d rather be out of bed than in it, for example.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my legs.’
‘Maybe not, but you were damn lucky to make it successfully in and out of bed yesterday. Forget the condition you arrived in . . . and the drugs you’re on . . . and the fact that you had a major operation a week ago . . . your brain hasn’t had time to adjust to mono-vision. By rights you should have gone arse over tit the minute you took your first step.’
‘Well, I didn’t.’
‘No. You seem to have the constitution of an ox and the balance of a tightrope walker.’ He eyed the young lieutenant curiously. ‘How did you manage to catch your mother’s wrist so easily? You should have missed by a mile.’
Acland produced a ball of tissue from under his sheet and tossed it from one hand to the other. ‘I’ve been practising.’
