After resigning as Prime Minister, I became Acting First Secretary of State and Acting Chancellor. This was until Winston (Isaacs) appointed Diana Ponsonby as Chancellor and Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Not many people know that I have a degree in medicine, but I do. I decided that I would use that degree to find a gateway into medicine and working for the NHS. I had an interview at the Royal London Hospital, the UK's central Major Trauma Centre and became the Leading Consultant (Senior Doctor) in the Emergency Department and the Clinical Director of the London Trauma Network. It felt weird, working as a Consultant in the NHS. I was recognised as The Duke of Wellington or The Right Honourable George Wellesley, Former Prime Minister. I didn't want to be that. I wanted to be George. At this time, I was coming to terms with the fact that Nicolette (FitzRoy) didn't want to be in a relationship with me and it was quite a struggle.
On my first day as Lead Consultant, it felt extremely weird wearing scrubs instead of a suit. I walked through the busy department, overhearing nurses saying my name and talking about me. I just wanted to get on with my job and ignore the chit chat. The resus area was full of major trauma cases, the one that interested me most though was the Gun Shot Wound in bay 2. The patient had a Major Cardiac Arrest at the scene and Paramedics revived him en-route. He had major lascerations to the chest area with an open fracture to the tib-fib. Beep. He went into Cardiac Arrest again. As a doctor, you have to follow protocol. But I'm not just any doctor. I'm also a surgeon, the lead consultant, a former Prime Minister. I don't have to follow the rules.
"Get me the thoracotomy kit, now."
I grabbed the scalpel, cutting the mans chest open, cracking his ribs and manually giving him cardiac massage by placing my hand on his heart and squeezing it. I tied the wound and sutured it where the bullet had hit an artery, causing an arterial bleed. He needed to go to theatre but there was no time. I tried, I tried to stop the bleed. I did try. It didn't work. My first case back in the Emergency Department was a death. You get used to it. A&E is life and death. You can't expect every patient to walk out alive. The body was moved to the morgue. Straight after, the red phone which is the phone that rings when a trauma call is coming in began to ring.
"Trauma call, major terror and security incident, expecting 30 casualties, all with major blast injuries."
We only had 10 resus bays. We couldn't fit 30 in 1 resus room. Armed Police began to swarm the department. First casualty was a Priority A, major burns and a gun shot wound. He was the suspected attacker. He was taken to Children's Resus which had 5 resus bays which were seperated. He was guarded by police who obstructed me from doing my duty. "Your Grace, he's getting worse" a nurse said to me.
"It's Dr Wellesley." I corrected the nurse. I began the primary survey which is where we check the patients airway, breathing and circulation. He had severely edema and we had to send him up to theatre. I, and the nurse and a Trauma Registrar wheeled the patient to the lift, pressed the button for Floor 5 and up we went. The lift stopped. We weren't moving. We had a patient on the brink of death in this lift and the lift broke down. Could my day of gotten any worse?