PTSD

I have to say the past month as been going pretty well. The majority of my shifts have been in the urgent care/pediatrics section of the emergency department. I like the turnover and the opportunity to play with little kids. For the most part they get my humor...or at least appease me by laughing.

Yesterday was going great until I walked by a patients room. Immediately after a quick glance in I blacked out, peed my pants, and found myself balled up in the corner sucking my thumb. What horrible thing could I have seen within that patient room you ask? No it wasn't a zombie, a mother eating her baby whole, or even worse Nancy Pelosi. It was one of my patients. A mother who's baby I delivered almost 2 whole years ago. This just wasn't any delivery. I had to brush my teeth and shower with bleach for an entire week. The delivery was uncomplicated, but the aftermath has scarred me for life. You see after the baby was out and there was nothing but a pool of blood in between the patients leg (which doesn't bother me one bit) I noticed something. Bubbles. Bubbles that were getting bigger and increasing in size. My heart began to race and beads of sweat accumulated on my brow. What was about to happen I asked myself. I was scared. Then I saw it. A giant brown turd. To make matters worse the patient peeked her head up to see what it looked like and grinned as if she was more proud of the second thing to exit her body that morning. My life has never been the same. I am actually gagging on my own vomitus as I write the post.

I can't take it anymore. I'm going back to my fetal position. Its the only safe place...

Compassion In Chaos

The last 40 hours have been a complete roller coaster. I just completed a 34 hour shift that spanned the entire spectrum of the medical profession. I have to say, I am absolutely exhausted. I started my day yesterday at 0700 in the Urology Grand Rounds. After a couple of hours of learning about testicular cancer, bladder reconstruction, and Gangrene of the testicles I hopped in my car and headed full speed to the private hospital in town to finish my last shift in the ICU. I saw a few of my left over patients, one of which had a heart attack and tried to die early yesterday morning. I admitted a depressed man who took 60 Xanax at once then called his friend to tell him what he did. His friend didn't come over. Waited for the next morning to call the paramedics. Something I would do to my arch enemies.

After my shift ended I got signout from the General Surgery team and started a call night for general surgery. I was quickly paged by two attendings to see a patient in the ED with a butt abscess as well as a colon cancer patient on the floor. My head was spinning by midnight. I fell asleep to Sportscenter ringing in the background. When I woke up I again jumped in my car and headed back to the University. I grabbed a quick breakfast and headed to the ED to start my first shift. I had trouble spelling my name at this point.

I rounded out my day with a patient with testicular pain and the cutest little spanish speaking girl with a cold. She must of liked me because of my terrible spanish. I admit, I would laugh at me stuttering in a different language. I fumbled through her discharge instructions in spanish to her mom, who was very pleased that I was even trying. I waved goodbye to my patient and she walked over and gave me a big hug. It was something so small (literally) but it reminded me why I suffer through the chaos that has become my life. Thanks little mexican girl. You're welcome to come play with The Foof in Mexitaliamerica anytime. Once your over your cold of course.