Beulah quickly responded to the red light.
She stood next to Matron as a new patient was gently lifted from the wheel chair into the bed. The paramedic gave the patient's details as she typed the information into her palm top computer.
His name was Shannon. He had crashed his motorbike into a street sweeper around sunrise that morning. His left foot had been torn off. He had been operated on around lunchtime. He was going to stay in the ward for a day or two till a place was found for him in the prosthetic ward.
Matron patted the paramedic on the back as he walked away. Shannon looked up at her as tears welled in his eyes. She wiped his brow. He was twenty five. He closed his eyes as the painkillers kicked in. He slept for twelve hours.
Shannon's eyes opened. He stared into the harsh light above his head. He tried to remember why he was in hospital. His last memory was screaming "Fuck" as the bike slid under the stupid street cleaner. He shook his head and blinked. He raised his head and weakly looked around. He realised that he was in hospital.
He looked at the man in the next bed. He tried to speak but his throat was sore from the tubes that had been inserted during the operation. Matron observed his movements and came over to check on him. He whispered something to her. She could see the horror in his eyes.
Matron gently took his hand and started to answer his questions. When she ran out of answers she just sat there, quietly holding his hand. He slipped into a fitful sleep and she left to check the other patients.
Around three in the morning Shannon regained consciousness. He looked around. All the other patients were asleep. His bladder was full. He tried to moved but his leg was too sore. He lay there for a while then noticed Matron standing in the doorway. He raised his arm and weakly waved to her. Matron walked over to investigate.
Shannon explained his predicament. Matron nodded and pressed the red button beside his bed. Moments later Beulah was standing next to Matron.