BluE Scrubs

Most people probably kept themselves vigil to the early hours of last night, to celebrate the dawning of the new year. Given the choice I would've given it a miss, my sleep is far too precious, it'll be hard to do on-call with eyes shut.

I was up, at work, to witness the solidarity displayed at 23:56, where people across Britain observed the 2 minute silence to reflect upon the catastrophic disaster caused by the Tsunami. My heart goes out to those still battling with hunger, dehydration, infection of all sorts on top of sorrow and grief for the lost ones.

Sarah, the chief nurse in the Intensive Care Unit started prepping a table right in the middle of the unit and almost like magic, the table was laden with an array of finger food, quiches, mini pizzas, egg balls, salad and bottles of bubbly. Non alcoholic one of course. We tucked in.

We all thought so far so good, everybody in the unit were behaving rather well, allowing us to absorb the atmosphere radiated from the 15 inch telly which Sarah dragged out from the store. We watched the London Eye and Big Ben ceremoniously worshipped as the count down began.

In the background a few premature flicker and sparkle of fireworks made it's debut on the clear London's toposphere.

At the struck of midnight, a loud beeping went off and everybody was startled. On the cardiac monitor lady in bed 2 went into ventricular tachycardia. Paper plates and paper cups flung in all directions. 5 pairs of bluescrubs scurried over and within seconds we were ready to shock her, when she reverted back to normal rythm. A bit like missing the ice cream van or runaway bandits whichever one is suitable, we just stood there staring at the monitor staring back at us.

A few investigations and results were obtained later and I started her on amiodarone. I've always wanted to name my pet amiodarone, but I can't have dogs, cats don't like me and I have a tendency to poison fish unintentionally. I was fuelled on adrenaline for the first few minutes but very soon I started looking for my paper plate again, it still had a piece of fish finger on it with a bit of cheese and chive dip.

Moments later, like it was a date, I was summoned to go over to maternity to stick an epidural for a C-section for a stuck baby. I was very obliging, in my mind I was already embarking on my new year resolution, which is to love more, so no grunts, just do it.

When the baby's head grimaced out of the bikini cut, my heart felt an inviting warmth and definitely more relaxed. I was happy for the couple but of course they couldn't see that. On the outside I sure looked like a couldn't-care-less-and -don't-wanna-be-here anaesthetist. It'll be good if I did care.

I was finishing off doing squiggles on the treatment chart so that this lady can have diamorphine and codeine right down to paracetamol for later on, when the bleep went off again on air speaker phone this time. I could feel the vibration of the woman's voice emmitted out from my lower flank area. It was the strangest but addictable sensation ever. I felt like going: do it again, do it again.

Bugger! It's a trauma call. I dropped everything, did a Flo-Jo to the accident and emergency.

I thought I was going to need CPR when I got there, I was reminded about how unfit I was.

It was like a scene out of ER only everybody spoke in a heavy Yorkshire accent, contaminated by a few Indian accent. I wasn't going to say much. Us anaesthetist, we work in silence most of the time, (when things go to plan that is).

The guy must have been about 25 and had a stabbing wound in his chest and on his abdomen. He looked blue grey, panting away, clearly had a hunger for air like there wasn't enough in the room, eyes glaring like he'd just seen a ghost and at the same time kicking screaming, trying to jump off the trolley. 5 people were pinning him down and he was in no condition to leave.

I got to the head end and almost like a cue for disaster to happen he fell limp and relinquish previous unnecessary fighting against us. He clearly had a pneumothorax on the right chest. His blood pressure was slipping away, he's looking more and more grave.

Oh Pooh pooh pooh I thought. I couldn't stick any tube down his throat as the chest drain was not yet in place. The surgical registrar was on the case and he was huffing and puffing away, in a bit of a struggle. A big gush of blood suddenly just poured out of the chest tube and sprayed everything in it's way. Soaking his trousers, shoes and of course his hands. Within seconds I was standing in a pool of blood and my pink clogs turned red. Crimson red, spotty in some areas.

We're in! So I got the guy tubed in and within minutes the guy was on the machine.

The monitor was alarming and his blood pressure was in the boots.

Blood's coming out but is it going in???

In one corner, 2 nurses were looking at the packets of blood, chatting away like they've not met for ages and the packets of blood were some kind of a keepsake from childhood years. Completely in their own world.

One of them caught my glance (finally) and said,

"Do you want the blood now or later?"

Eh hello, nak buat tapai ke simpan simpan for later? Blantantly!!!

I heard myself saying something, which sure did the trick. Very quickly 2 units of blood were up and running. I still can't remember what I said though.

I discovered that I could really use my vocal cords when needs be and it gets things done at double the speed.

Needless to say this guy underwent a 6 hour operation in theatre to sort out the stabbing wounds. All in all he exhausted the supply of blood of the entire hospital, not to mention other blood products which go together with massive blood transfusions menu.

The battle we fought for this guy I thought was almost like a remake of a scene already done before. We were just different names, doing the same things at a different time. We had no more blood to give and he was continually bleeding. He was not clotting and the amount of squeezing juices he was on was unbelievable. He was as good as dead.

At 9 in the morning as the sun greeted the new day, new year, he was still on the theatre table, battling his life. I don't think he will be very impressed with whoever decided to stab him. That is if he gets to see 2005. That whoever must have really meant it.

It was time for me to go home, I felt old and dead. Stuff love I want my bed.