Thursday, May 05, 2005

When It Comes to Your Own

Mr.Sleepyhead


Life is such that we all seem to constantly surf the waves. Big, small, high or low, whether we like it or not. It keeps coming, ignoring our tired minds and sometimes our little bodies feel the shake from the mammoth ones going right down to our inner core until there is no go forward, only to shut down for a while.

Many things amalgamated themselves into a cement paste, binding me tight past couple of days.

There was two day on call to start with which weren’t terribly bad, apart from waking up dizzy not knowing weather it’s 5am or 5pm. You feel like a mystical mythical little creature on an alien planet. Days are getting longer now and the birds are too chirpy outside my window. It’s a bit of a challenge to doze off. Is it wrong to feel so much hatred towards innocent birds?

A 25 year old pilot was admitted to ICU after an emergency splenectomy. No, his fighter jet didn’t crash and he didn’t fall off from any height. He was in Cadwell doing a motorbike racing over the weekend and was ejected off after colliding head on with another something. History is a bit patchy but those were the salient points.

Oh and the other important thing is he was too good looking that the nurses on the unit suddenly became smiling angels, with exceptionally, exceedingly good service at hand, not a single miserable bones in them whole night, attending to his every need.

Urine output, 2 units of blood, not for anything per oral, and morphine 1mg every 5 mins, was the plan for the night. I scribbled those down and told Rachael, who was the ‘main’ in charge nurse for the spleenless pilot chap, but Rachael had conveniently acquired many assistants.

It seemed that no job too difficult when it comes to this guy, everybody wanted to turn him to check for pressure sores, change his gown, wet his mouth and even hold his hand when he cringed. I just watched the young handsome spleenless pilot working his charm on the hypnotised nurses.

Chrissy didn’t participate, she’s recovering from a break up with her 2 year relationship with a prick. We flipped the NOW magazine for good holiday ideas while talking about men and watching the serenade of the speenless pilot. It’s quite entertaining I tell you.

At 3 am, I was called for a caesarean section on a petite young mother to be. She’s my height, roughly my build but highly highly stressed. Eyes red and her hair, all over the place, probably tousled from excessive wriggling in pain with every contraction.

It’s amazing how words came out more assuring, convincing and more articulate when I speak to somebody younger than me. I sounded almost sisterly and paternal which was surprisingly natural and I have noticed this phenomenon several times.

I could just feel the trust being lumped over on my shoulders when she gave me that nod. ‘Do whatever doc,’ and she smiled in between the demanding contractions. Maybe I aged 10 years over at 3 am, maybe I had creases all over my face from the strange laying habit mixed with not-quite-awake-look. I don’t know but she was my ideal patient.

The spinal went in within the minute and before she knew it, her legs were ‘gone’ which was a surprise to her and she giggled like a girl as it wasn’t something she’s experienced before. I never had a patient giggled like that before and she said the pain was gone as well. I know not if I smiled sufficiently at the time, my eyes were so heavy, but I was pleased for her.

The frustration of the interrupted sleep vanished into thin mist and I felt a glow inside. The kind that put skips in your steps, give a singy songy touch to your conversations and a soothing spa quality knead into the weary knotty shoulder blades.

At least there is that glow.

There is another something that’s been weighing me down, worrying me. I am afraid that this one is still dim. The glow is yet to come although, I am praying and hoping for a good outcome.

It is easy to pat a patient’s relative in the back reassuring them, telling them the operation or procedure is going to be alright, but when it comes to your own family member, I just wish somebody could inject some sense in my head. Gas me or something. When I worry, I am sicker than a sick dog.

I hope he will recover, and that he’s well looked after as well as I would look after all my patients. Get well soon Ba’. Ameen.

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