“Normandy” was Digby’s code word for when he was due to find out if he had cancer. He needed a code word because he was hiding it from Morven, and trying his best to hide it from himself. When Holby doctors are worried about their own health, they tend to fill the time by getting heavily involved with a patient (in the medical sense rather than the romantic, because that would be unethical).
Digby’s patient was a teenage boy who’d been hit by a train, and frankly his chances weren’t good. Despite being in the world’s number one medical facility, he still died. Digby was the last one to give up, even when Bernie, Sacha and everybody else was saying it was time to stop.
The good news for Digby is that his mole has been successfully removed and the cancer hasn’t spread, so he’s fine. Despite a tedious hiccup, in which Morven got the idea that he was going on holiday with Zosia to Normandy, all ended well and Morven gave him a well-deserved hug. Continue reading
(Series 17, ep.7) “The best way of getting me back to normal is getting me back to normal,” Dr Zosia March told her father. Hard to argue with her logic, apart from the fact that “normal,” to Zosia, means being at work.
For the past week or two she’s been at an expensive and exclusive-looking clinic and the verdict from the doctor in charge of her was that she may be bipolar. As usual, Selfie was in denial. Mental illness? Goodness. Nothing that assisting with a bit of seriously tricky brain surgery won’t sort out!
Obviously that didn’t work out well at all, and even Selfie was finally forced to admit that having a grown-up daughter who writes all over the table in Pulses in salt isn’t quite right. He went back to see the psychiatrist and admitted that his views of mental illness were “unenlightened.” You don’t say. Even so, despite Sacha offering some father-to-father advice and Zosia’s odd behaviour being the elephant in every room she sets foot in, Selfie is still determined to keep the issue just between the two of them. Continue reading
It’s the morning after the EastEnders the night before, and my jaw is still on the floor next to the pile of soggy tissues. It was, quite simply, the best half hour of drama I’ve ever seen in a TV soap.
Producer Dominic Treadwell-Collins said, “We’re doing it forensically. The minutiae. We’re doing grief first; it’s not a silly death. It’s about death in a family,” and he wasn’t kidding. The episode focused on the immediate aftermath of Lucy Beale’s death: the police telling her father, Ian, and Ian telling the rest of the family. I’d expected to feel sad and tearful. What I hadn’t expected to feel was such a sense of dread at various points – when Ian had to face going to the mortuary to see Lucy’s body, when he had to tell his other children. Even when his phone rang and he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. It was grief shown like it really is. Almost the most poignant scene was when Ian was sitting in the waiting area at the mortuary with the police officer, and they made small talk about where she grew up and the places they both knew. He even smiled at the memories, but you could see behind the smile was the realisation that nothing in his life would ever be the same again. It was utterly real, and the performance from Adam Woodyatt as Ian was incredible and intense in every facial expression and every gesture. All the peripheral details added to the brilliant work from the lead actors – little things like the policeman washing up the tea mugs, or the look on Lauren’s face when she saw Ian coming into the pub to look for his son, Peter (lovely work from Ben Hardy). Continue reading
(Series 26, Ep.16) If you haven’t seen this episode yet, stop reading now before I spoil it for you as thoroughly as my dear old dad spoiled it for me by telling me the end two days before I managed to see the episode. Them’s the perils of Sky+.
Well then. Gosh. A two-part episode of Casualty, featuring a fire, explosions, a child locked in a locker, Dr Zoe Hanna and Dr Dylan trapped in Resus with only a bottle of gin to keep them going and Lovely Staff Nurse Faldren and pregnant Dr Ruth Winters forced to escape the conflagration via the air conditioning ducts.
And no-one died. Can you imagine? All of that tension and all of those special effects and Casualty, the most corpse-littered show on TV, comes up with a happy ending. I did not see it coming (ok, I did – thanks, dad). Ruth had dumped Jay the previous week. When things are going right for Ruth she expects them to go wrong, so she tries to blow up the situation herself before it blows up anyway. Lovely Staff Nurse Faldren has proved over the years that he’s not so easy to get rid of, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. While he was telling Ruth that he wasn’t taking no for an answer, the rest of the hospital was on fire, but the fire alarms had been disabled and R and J had their phones switched off, so they didn’t know.
They soon found out, obviously, promptly rescued the girl trapped in the locker and the three of them discovered all exits were blocked and the only way was up – via the air con to the roof. Frankly, it all looked hopelessly doomed. “We’re not going to die here tonight,” Jay told Ruth, with the conviction of A Man In Love. Continue reading
(Series 26, Ep.14) I never manage to watch Casualty in real time and have to rely on Sky+ or iPlayer. This is mainly because my other half is squeamish. He can cope with the gore, but he can’t cope with the suspense of waiting for the nasty accidents to occur. So while Casualty is on, I’m generally watching The X Factor, with one eye on Twitter (mainly for the amusing comments of @themanwhofell and our very own X Factor queen, @sabfrancis). And because a lot of the people I follow on Twitter are Casualty fans, recently I’ve been seeing a lot of the hashtag #RJForever.
“RJ” are, of course, Ruth and Jay, AKA Dr Ruth Winters and Lovely Staff Nurse Faldren. Because they have tiresomely monosyllabic names, they can’t be mushed together in a Brangelina/Subo sort of way. Ruey or Juth both sound silly. So they have become RJ – the same initials as Romeo and Juliet, how apt is that? Continue reading
(Series 13, Ep.51) What a delightful episode. I would have enjoyed it just for the neat demonstration of how character can be revealed via the eating of fruit. Henrik Hanssen peels his apple with a small knife, wearing a look of patient contentment and anticipation. Sir Fraser just grabs an apple from a bowl, sinks his teeth into it, and when he’s had enough looks round for a bin to throw it in. Hanssen’s pain at this callous disregard of fruit was etched on his face.
Etched on the face of Young Dr Oliver Valentine was a bruise – is he ever without a bruise? – caused this time by running into a lamp post. He was being distracted while jogging by his former patient, recruitment consultant O’Gorman. While Oliver was nursing his bruised head, O’Gorman hunted it, and offered Oli a job as a hot shot high flying recruitment consultant. He would be earning a salary so enormous it could only be comprehended by looking at the figure typed on an iPhone and not spoken out loud. Recruitment is presumably not the type of consultancy Oliver was aiming for when he applied for medical school. What a marvellous use of several years of training and a qualification your sister worked hard to earn you. But Oli had had enough of being Jac’s puppet and spending hours in the wet lab suturing pigs’ lungs – even his on-the-fly carotid sinus massage did nothing to impress her – so he wrote his resignation letter to Hanssen and told everyone he was leaving. Continue reading
(Series 25, Ep.45 & 46) Belatedly catching up on two weeks’ worth of Casualty, and we find the spotlight still very much on Adam and his “god complex.”
If Adam really was a god, and had the power to smite his enemies, he would reserve quite a bit of smiting power for paedophiles. Now, no-one in their right mind likes paedophiles, but Adam really, really doesn’t like them. He dislikes them so much that, even if they bear a stunning resemblance to lovely Chris Mead off of Waterloo Road, he has no qualms about torturing them a bit to get them to ‘fess up. Honestly, that’s what he was doing last week – torturing poor old Chris Mead, who turned out not to be a paedophile (apart from in a strictly technical sense, but let’s not go into that) and ended up having to have his leg amputated.
This week, the patient Adam had previously dosed up with a mythical urge-dampening drug was back in the ED, after taking too many of the pills and passing out. This meant Adam had to do some urgent track-covering so no-one found out about his illicit trip to the pharmacy. This was made more difficult because Kirsty was following him around like Inspector Clouseau and wanting Answers.
One of the answers that Kirsty got was from a patient with a terminal condition, who advised her to live life like she was writing her very own self-help book – parachute jumping and all that. Kirsty was bored with trying to get Adam to behave like a mere mortal instead of Zeus in scrubs, and fed up with everyone going quiet when she approaches since they found out Warren used to beat her up. So she bundled some belongings in the car, added Little Miss Glum, and threw her wedding ring out of the car window on the Clifton Suspension Bridge on her way to a new life. It didn’t even smash another car’s windscreen and cause a multiple pile-up, which must be a first for Casualty.
Next time: An explosion at Holby Airport – it’s been a while since we had one of those – and Adam has the chance to “atone for his sins.”
Posted by PLA (more Casualty here)