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When I was 19 I went down to Cambridge to play soccer for my hospital against one of the colleges. My right arm was in plaster from an earlier rugby injury. It was a rough game, and in the changing room I peed what looked liked pure blood. This led to seven days' flat bed rest in Addenbrooke's Hospital. Twice a day I was rolled on my side and my back and heels were washed, rubbed with alcohol, creamed, and powdered. I got no bedsores.
When I was 28 I worked in a west country casualty department. We had
our fracture ward upstairs full of cases immobilised in full plaster
casts. When one of these patients developed a bedsore all hell broke
loose. Two nurses were moved off the ward, and we were all up in front
of Matron in a drumhead court. It was the only case in the six months
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UK medical students have published unreleased government plans to restrict failed asylum seekers' access to medical care