Thursday, 7 March 2013

There's no place like home



So I haven’t blogged recently, this is mainly due to the fact that I have worked manically for the last 3 weeks, as has Dan.  It’s been an interesting time.  We changed rotations last week which for me meant saying goodbye to my surgeons.  They have become a bit like pets to me, or perhaps children.  Over the last three months I’ve learnt what they like and don’t like, how to calm them down when they are frustrated and throwing their toys out the pram and how to calm myself down and implement  self preservation strategies which have stopped me from losing my cool with them on many an occasion.  I summed up my rotation with a card to say thank you, on the front of which was Dorothy (me), the lion, the tin man and the scarecrow all skipping along- just like our morning ward rounds.  These rounds generally involved calming down Mr E who gets very wound up about- well anything, checking all Mr A’s patients are on his very specific, and slightly odd, pain relief regime, encouraging Mr C to make decisions and (praise God for small mercies) basking in the knowledge of Mr S who is always thorough, always calm and just generally quite wonderful!   Mr S worked as a trauma surgeon in the British army and used to operate in a theatre with an unexploded bomb lodged in the ceiling; unsurprisingly those operations were swift and efficient.  What a hero (quote Dan).   As an RMO (resident medical officer) my job is to look after the patients on the ward, I oversee their care, advocate for them and am generally the person who actually knows what’s going on with their care.  Yet sometimes I reach points of frustration where I need someone else’s expertise, I can diagnoses the surgical problem but trust me you don’t want me operating on you!  Our knowledge is always being tested, our patience often stretched and our skills challenged.  


During night shifts there is one doctor in the hospital, covering A&E, the wards and being a point of reference for nurses at satellite centres as far away as three hours drive north and south of Greymouth.  On my first night one of the first patients who came in was someone with a dislocated shoulder. They were quite drunk which is these situations can be quite handy as alcohol is a good pain killer!  I diagnosed the dislocation, confirmed it with x-ray and checked the neurological and vascular supply to the arm.  I then called the orthopaedic registrar in Christchurch three hours away, who provide our orthopaedic support, to confirm the plan.  Relocate the shoulder.  Simple.  Well yes, and no.  It can be a simple procedure there are many techniques which can be used to try and pop the shoulder back in place, however if the patient isn’t relaxed or the first attempt is unsuccessful the muscles around the shoulder tighten and the procedure gets more difficult.  I put it out there to the orthopaedic Registrar “I haven’t actually relocated a shoulder before”.  In theory there should be someone on back up I can call in, but guess what, there was no one on the rota.  Meanwhile the ambulance crew bought in another patient who was drunk and had a fluctuating conscious level.  Great.   I checked the second drunk person was safe and went back to my shoulder.  I called the registrar again “there’s no one on back up, what do you want me to do”.  The shoulder needed to go in that night so I resorted to my trusted and faithful backup – Dan.  Having done A&E for six months Dan has performed relocation procedures and I quote “if you get stuck just call me”.  So I did, it was half twelve and the phone rang and rang and rang...  Up until this point I had felt quite calm but now my heart started to thud, I really was on my own.  I had a frank discussion with the patient and explained why I hadn’t relocated the shoulder, I had never done it before and I wanted to get someone to help me, this however seemed not to be possible.  My only option was to use gravity and a little manipulation to get the shoulder in, this and a lot of prayer.  There was only one technique I felt safe to use as it didn’t require harsh manipulation so no chance of damaging structures.  The patient sucked on gas and air and I lay them on their tummy, the dislocated arm flopped over the side of the couch.  I gently manipulated their arm (as per the internet diagram I had seen).... clunk.... the shoulder popped back in- praise God!  This was my first two hours of 70 that week- I will say no more on the matter.

Dan organised an end of rotation meal to which over twenty of the medical ward staff signed up to attend.  All the nurses love Dan.  I know what you are all thinking- it’s his Dashing good looks and warm smile which produces these warm fond feelings.... actually I think it is he constant singing and his hyperactivity which make him an amusing and endearing work colleague.   We turned up to the restaurant and although we didn’t fill it, we quadrupled its numbers.  It was a wonderful meal, food was eaten, wine was drunk (not by me as I drove), and there was much laughter and jokes and then........ the unexpected Sri Lankan dancing!  The consultant who came to the meal was the wonderful Dr U who is slightly mature and very well known in Greymouth.  At the end of the evening I think he had consumed a moderate amount of alcohol, enough to dis-inhibit his dancing gene, and boy did he dance!  There we were in a little restaurant with our consultant pushing back the tables and for want of a better phrase “dancing his butt off”.  I’m pleased to say we have video evidence...

Life is always eventful and there are many many more stories, particularly about work, that I could share.   What I will say is that doctors are human.  We live, breath, cry and make mistakes like everyone else.  Our mistakes have the potential to cost lives and that is why a safe doctor isn’t the doctor who “knows” everything, because trust me they don’t exist; a safe doctor is someone who knows what they don’t know and seeks advice from other professionals to make sure they are giving the best care.   I didn’t want to relocate that shoulder by myself and I set a limit on what I was happy to do.  If I hadn’t relocated it the patient could have had nerve damage and complications so did what I could and was lucky it worked.  So next time your GP says “I’m not sure about that, I will look it up”, don’t sit and think “what an idiot” be thankful that he is looking it up and being honest about his knowledge and expertise. 

Happy Mother’s Day

Sarah xxx

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