Wednesday, July 13, 2005
It Could Happen To Anybody
It was one of those confusing things that we sometimes do. Swapping on calls with each other to knead our social life, family, housekeeping, into our not so malleable on call rotas. Apart from getting the best out of bartering like with like, we love it when the secretary gets cross-eyed looking at things crossed and pencilled out here and there. We kind of enjoy it.
Kevin was on for the ITU and I was, for theatre. The shift started with a bit of a chaos as the boss had instructed the hospital switchboard to swap me for ITU and Kevin for the theatre emergency. We didn’t know why, at least I didn’t know then, but we went against the boss and we stuck to the initial plan. Rebels we are.
As we’ve decided to work as if we’re attached at the hips I stayed on ITU with Kevin. He sat me down by the workstation and put his glasses on. Opened his West physiology of respiratory system, we got stuck in. He’s the nasty examiner and I was the shaking like a leaf on a rickety dry twig at the mercy of a blaring storm viva candidate. The nurses passing by just rolled their eyes with some shaking their heads.
‘Don’t get carried away’, and a wink came from Lorraine with a tray full of dirty mugs.
On the third question of critical temperature and oxygen concentration at high altitude, I was bleeped from the orthopaedic team. It was Sharan, one of the 4 Malaysian docs working in this dire place. A 7 year old boy with busted suprachondylar fracture needed manipulation under anaesthetics.
The theatre felt more clinical than usual. Maybe they did the thorough cleaning earlier in the day. The boy was an absolute angel and was more interested in the shell chain round my stiffened neck than anything else. I bought that in Matahari, Bali.
Forgot to take it off before work and it dangled down as I put the needle in, I let him play with it.
He didn’t flinch. What a star. I promised to give him a visit next day on the ward with a book on Bali. Most children at that age wouldn’t be interested I thought. I wonder what sort of a man he would grow up to be with that shiny soft tufted copper hair a bit ruined by the rustled from the fall off his pushbike. Blue eyes, freckled to the bridge of the nose. And loving books? I let him call me Naj.
He grabbed Nick’s hand hard as he drifted off, probably feeling the inevitable loss of consciousness. Must be really terrifying. Nick squirmed silently and gave me a look. I hastened the injection. Once a man in his 30s shouted ‘Here we goooooooooooo!!!!’as I sent him to the world of pharmacological sleep. Bit like he was falling off a bridge doing a bungee jump. I thought that was funny.
It was sort of calm and uneventful, Sharan and I were exchanging ideas of where to go on Thursday night with Adleen the other Malaysian doc over the procedure. Bit of a struggle to round up the conversation as sounds muffled behind our surgical masks and she got interrupted now and again to tighten the traction by the Registrar.
Finally a night out as a group after a year of just saying hi-s and bye-s on the corridor. We owe it to ourselves really and it’s a bit pathetic not to get to know each other being from the same country and all. Sharan and I speak to each other a lot more often compared to the others as she bleeps me often to give me jobs. Once she rang to refer a patient and hung up without actually telling me the name of the patient. We get carried away easily. Sometimes I just say no to everything, when I know it’s her.
Is that the on call anaesthetist? No
That’s Naj isn’t it? No
I know it’s you Naj. No
It’s Sharan, got a patient for theatre. No
Giggles and a sighs. Laziness is sometimes a bit like limpets, very clingy.
My bleep went off and it wasn’t a cardiac arrest. More of a ‘Dr. Ahmad to ward B1 now!!!’ blaring out of the radio-bleep around my waist. That kind of summon can’t be right so I sent Nick to get Kevin from ITU double quick. ‘Yes boss’ from Nick always sets my mood right and gets my not so forthcoming smile lingering for a bit.
Nick came barging moments later, completely out of breath, puffing out barely audible sounds meaning we needed another theatre opened. I was going to be stuck with the orthopaedic team for the next hour. Things rolling fast around me. Scrub nurses left my theatre to help out, leaving me, Sharan, her Registrar and a nurse. We were abandoned.
10 minutes later the sound of a trolley screeched past our theatre and an odd bangs and thumps startled us. Heard Kevin’s voice in a different pitch than usual, demanding and a bit harsh. Oh No we thought.
5 minutes later the consultant anaesthetist on call stormed into our theatre not in his bluescrubs. Where is the woman? We all said SEVEN out loud.
At that point I really didn’t know what a nightmare a series of unfortunate events can all snowball into, starting from just one unfortunate event….
To be continued…
Kevin was on for the ITU and I was, for theatre. The shift started with a bit of a chaos as the boss had instructed the hospital switchboard to swap me for ITU and Kevin for the theatre emergency. We didn’t know why, at least I didn’t know then, but we went against the boss and we stuck to the initial plan. Rebels we are.
As we’ve decided to work as if we’re attached at the hips I stayed on ITU with Kevin. He sat me down by the workstation and put his glasses on. Opened his West physiology of respiratory system, we got stuck in. He’s the nasty examiner and I was the shaking like a leaf on a rickety dry twig at the mercy of a blaring storm viva candidate. The nurses passing by just rolled their eyes with some shaking their heads.
‘Don’t get carried away’, and a wink came from Lorraine with a tray full of dirty mugs.
On the third question of critical temperature and oxygen concentration at high altitude, I was bleeped from the orthopaedic team. It was Sharan, one of the 4 Malaysian docs working in this dire place. A 7 year old boy with busted suprachondylar fracture needed manipulation under anaesthetics.
The theatre felt more clinical than usual. Maybe they did the thorough cleaning earlier in the day. The boy was an absolute angel and was more interested in the shell chain round my stiffened neck than anything else. I bought that in Matahari, Bali.
Forgot to take it off before work and it dangled down as I put the needle in, I let him play with it.
He didn’t flinch. What a star. I promised to give him a visit next day on the ward with a book on Bali. Most children at that age wouldn’t be interested I thought. I wonder what sort of a man he would grow up to be with that shiny soft tufted copper hair a bit ruined by the rustled from the fall off his pushbike. Blue eyes, freckled to the bridge of the nose. And loving books? I let him call me Naj.
He grabbed Nick’s hand hard as he drifted off, probably feeling the inevitable loss of consciousness. Must be really terrifying. Nick squirmed silently and gave me a look. I hastened the injection. Once a man in his 30s shouted ‘Here we goooooooooooo!!!!’as I sent him to the world of pharmacological sleep. Bit like he was falling off a bridge doing a bungee jump. I thought that was funny.
It was sort of calm and uneventful, Sharan and I were exchanging ideas of where to go on Thursday night with Adleen the other Malaysian doc over the procedure. Bit of a struggle to round up the conversation as sounds muffled behind our surgical masks and she got interrupted now and again to tighten the traction by the Registrar.
Finally a night out as a group after a year of just saying hi-s and bye-s on the corridor. We owe it to ourselves really and it’s a bit pathetic not to get to know each other being from the same country and all. Sharan and I speak to each other a lot more often compared to the others as she bleeps me often to give me jobs. Once she rang to refer a patient and hung up without actually telling me the name of the patient. We get carried away easily. Sometimes I just say no to everything, when I know it’s her.
Is that the on call anaesthetist? No
That’s Naj isn’t it? No
I know it’s you Naj. No
It’s Sharan, got a patient for theatre. No
Giggles and a sighs. Laziness is sometimes a bit like limpets, very clingy.
My bleep went off and it wasn’t a cardiac arrest. More of a ‘Dr. Ahmad to ward B1 now!!!’ blaring out of the radio-bleep around my waist. That kind of summon can’t be right so I sent Nick to get Kevin from ITU double quick. ‘Yes boss’ from Nick always sets my mood right and gets my not so forthcoming smile lingering for a bit.
Nick came barging moments later, completely out of breath, puffing out barely audible sounds meaning we needed another theatre opened. I was going to be stuck with the orthopaedic team for the next hour. Things rolling fast around me. Scrub nurses left my theatre to help out, leaving me, Sharan, her Registrar and a nurse. We were abandoned.
10 minutes later the sound of a trolley screeched past our theatre and an odd bangs and thumps startled us. Heard Kevin’s voice in a different pitch than usual, demanding and a bit harsh. Oh No we thought.
5 minutes later the consultant anaesthetist on call stormed into our theatre not in his bluescrubs. Where is the woman? We all said SEVEN out loud.
At that point I really didn’t know what a nightmare a series of unfortunate events can all snowball into, starting from just one unfortunate event….
To be continued…
