I realise I complain a lot these days about work, hours, people, patients; you name it I’m complaining about it. I haven’t figured whether it’s orthopaedics, the department, the people, the patients or just me that is the cause of all the moaning. A pretty good guess would be a combination of everything.
But as the light begins to glimmer towards the end of these four months I feel the rose tinted glasses beginning to gloss things over. So before I forget it all, here’s a snapshot of what really was at times AWFUL-paedics.
First morning. Half past seven meeting. Rota shennaginans begin. JUST PICK A ROTA PEOPLE. (I felt like screaming then thought about first impressions and all that.) Then we stood awkwardly in a corner of the Trauma Meeting which was and still is Trauma for everyone involved not just the poor patients. Patient admitted in middle of meeting. Nurse appeared demanding fluids and a catheter. Didn’t know the drill so ran through and after a bit of fumbling, the demented fractured neck of femur (little did I know, a sight only to become all too familar) had a catheter in situ and I returned to a fraught trauma meeting, registrars being grilled, voices raised. I was thanking my lucky stars it was NOT me standing up presenting.
I survived that first day. Surprisingly in one piece.
Then came the first weekend on. I was just getting used to life without an SHO (senior house officer), my go-to-guy if you like, one up from me; when the shit hit the fan people. Big Time. One of the fractured NOFs (neck of femurs or hips to you non surgeons) took a turn for the worst and arrested. Thrown. In. At. The Deep. End. I guess it was autopilot. We went through the motions and she came back round. Well, in the loosest sense. Her heart beat returned but unfortunately little else about her did. But I am thankful to say that at least her family was at her side when she did pass on later that day.
I sat down to gather my thoughts and sort out the notes. But I was stumped. Floored. Staring into space. A tap on my shoulder brought me back but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I cried. I scared the arrest team doc who appeared to be much more comfortable with arrests than emotionally labile house officers. I cried some more. Silent sobs. Washed my face. Questioned my decisions. My actions. And then bed 404 needed laxatives prescribed and I thought, “Thank goodness..that, my friends I can do.” Bed 409 had a sore belly, bed 432 had a sore leg, bed 236 wanted methadone (though preferably heroin if possible) and life continued. I thought I was broke. Done. Knackered. Never-going-to-function-again. But life goes on. Patient’s are always there needing one thing or another, never quite letting you get too self absorbed, keeping you in the real world.
Then the ICE came and the snow, oh and the ICE. And so we are in the middle of one of the coldest winters and I am where? You guessed it orthopaedics. One of the busiest winters yet for the unit. Great. It never stopped.
And now the ice has gone. There are busy days and quieter days, a bit like waves hitting the beach. Sometimes they come crashing down and you’re not sure whether you’ll come up. Sometimes they gently roll up, leaving you with time to go to the toilet, eat lunch and laugh.
I’m left with nights before it’ll be back to medicine. Thank goodness.
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