Yesterday dawned cold and bright in my part of Hertfordshire. Had everything gone to plan I would have had a quiet day and caught up on my long awaited paperwork. But it was not to be. At 11 am I had to deal with mania. Having passed the buck, something I should have learned to do a long time ago I went for lunch at 12.30 pm. Yet I never made it. Crisis had struck again. It would be 9.50 pm before I was finally able to stand down.
Crises are what I do. It is not always me as I'm not always there. So what was different with this crisis? Well it directly affected those at the highest levels of the university. The same people who had been led to believe that it is not me who makes the tough decision.
Who was it advising young inexperienced Doctor who had never been involved in a Mental Health Act Assessment? Who was it who advised the police that they needed to take over after a long standoff? I guess you know the answer to that-me! But of course I don't make those decisions. So where were those who claimed to do so? Nowhere to be seen. Whether anyone takes any notice is debatable.
More importantly than me, what of the student? Terrified and confused he is now in a safe place. But his screams remain in my head. It is a frightening experience seeing someone who is terrified being deprived of his liberty. Yet that is sometimes what I have to do.
Today have been recuperate day. I'm shattered but am watching West Ham-they just went 2-1 up-and can contemplate the Spanish beef stew I will be cooking later in white wine with bay and garlic. Then it is time to put my dinner jacket on for the Rat Pack night in the pub.
I Heard a Voice.
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