Dáil Sketch/Miriam Lord: A crack squad from the St John's Ambulance was smuggled into Leinster House yesterday, taking up a discreet position in the corridor leading from the chamber to Government Buildings.
Only those with experience of ministering to stricken athletes at the end of the Dublin City Marathon were chosen for this special mission.
They had their orders. They knew what to do.
It was going to be a long wait.
Meanwhile, back in the chamber, An Taoiseach was nearing the end of a gruelling Dáil run.
Having hit the wall on so many occasions during the last two months, he needed all the skill of his celebrated make-up team to cover up the cement marks.
But with the finish line now in sight, Bertie Ahern rediscovered the spring in his step and looked almost happy. The road looked straight and kind now.
When Fine Gael leader Enda Kenny sportingly ran out and handed him a bottle of cool water, he grabbed it. For his final Leaders' Questions before the long summer break, Deputy Kenny chose to ask about the state of the nation.
A delighted Taoiseach duly served up a list of statistics, boasting at length about his coalition's achievements.
He bragged about the success of the Luas and the recently launched Science and Technology initiative, rounding off with a triumphant: "Dat's where the money is goin'."
The Opposition was deeply and loudly unimpressed. But did Bertie care, with the end of his Dáil torment in sight?
"If I was in Opposition, I'd be upset about that too, a Ceann Comhairle," he chortled.
It was a very hot day, and overheating deputies across the floor combusted. Bertie in Opposition?
"Won't be long now. Won't be long!" roared Fine Gael's Michael Ring, beside himself, again. Michael is beside himself so often, he's a one-man group photo.
The Taoiseach's eve-of-hols good humour was too much for Clare's Independent deputy, James Breen. "You're unhappy. You're unhappy," he kept shouting across to a bemused Bertie. He was called to heel by the Chair.
Suddenly, James stopped, looking a bit flustered. "I'm sorry. I just got carried away."
Everybody was still laughing when Pat Rabbitte began to speak. The atmosphere was sunny and giddy.
But the Labour leader wasn't laughing. He read a letter sent to him by a man from Ballybunion. It was heart-rending.
Tony O'Gorman wrote about his wife, who is suffering from MS, and needs to have a medical procedure to alleviate her increasing pain and distress. Her husband has moved heaven and earth to get this done; it hasn't happened.
In desperation, he has written to the Tánaiste for help, but has heard nothing.
Breda, his wife, is declining by the day. He described her condition in detail - how the 30 tablets a day are making her confused, how her pressure sores are close to gangrene, how his family struggles to make her comfortable. "She is in cruel agony and ends up in tears every night," he writes.
The House had just listened to the Taoiseach regaling deputies with how good things are, and how much money is sloshing about the place, and how wonderful life is for us today.
Pat Rabbitte was angry. The Government deals in generalisations. Here was a real family in pain. "In the midst of all the wealth you detailed to Deputy Kenny," what was being done for Breda O'Gorman?
This was a telling intervention, and it put a stop to Bertie's gallop. Clearly moved by what he heard, he pledged to look into the matter.
Just before the line, and he was hitting that wall again. He remained in the chamber for most of the day, escaping in the late afternoon.
Free at last. Into the home stretch, along Liberation Corridor, where he could finally collapse across the line.
The boys and girls of the St John's Ambulance sprang into action. Salt tablets, rehydration drink, banana and silver foil blanket for around his shoulders. "Here now, Taoiseach, we'll just pop you up on this trolley and everything will be fine in no time."
"What's dat? Trolley? You're puttin' me on a trolley? NOooooooo . . ."