One day while working in theatre, I was allocated to the breast theatre which consists mostly of mastectomies. As a useless and mostly worthless trainee, my job was to take the breast from the surgeon and prepare it for histology by sitting it in Formalin.
That's all very well and good until I received a breast that can only be described as gargantuan. This thing must have weighed over 10kg. I carried it away with my arms buckling under its' weight. Luckily, a colleague, Henry, was there to help me. I put the breast into a plastic bag. Usually we use a syringe to fill the bag with Formalin but considering the size of the breast, that would have taken longer than the surgery itself. So, Henry and I did what any logically-thinking person would do. We lifted the huge bucket of Formalin and poured it in straight.
We underestimated the flow of the Formalin and ended up filling the bag to its' brim with it. Now, Formalin burns like a bitch, your eyes water, you can't breathe. As we were panicking, trying to close the bag, while crying tears of what I imagined to be blood, I (of course) got the giggles. And, in walked Sister Zee.
I don't know what she expected of us, but it's not like we could pour the now-used Formalin back into the bucket. I stood there laughing (and crying) while Formalin kept sloshing out of the bag onto the floor with every moment my body made. I noticed Sister Zee had watering eyes and she promptly left the room.
We eventually managed to tie off the bag, and returned it to the surgeon with it bursting at the seams with one random, huge boob floating within it. I walked out of theatre - with my head held high - before the surgeon got a chance to ask questions.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Something Smells Fishy
Working in a surgical ward in the first few days of January guarantees the fact that you will see many "New Year's Eve/Alcohol-Induced" injuries. Living in South Africa, these injuries are mostly the result of assault.
Night shift handed over to me, and because I was dreaming of my warm bed, I didn't hear exactly what they said, but gathered that a patient, Brian's, belongings were in the fridge.
I went to go put a name tag on what I assumed to be colddrink or something along those lines. However, upon opening the fridge, all I found was a brown paper bag, within which was a polystyrene cup. In the polystyrene cup was a nose. A human nose. Trying to (quite literally) put the pieces of this puzzle together, I went on a quest to find Brian. Indeed Brian had no nose. I don't know what else I was actually expecting. His nose had been bitten off in a fight.
The plastic surgeons soon got to work and realized it would be difficult (and kind of disgusting) to re-attach a nose that had been in a polystyrene cup in a fridge with temperatures that aren't really regulated. Plus, it was kind of old and shrivelled up.
Instead, the surgeons decided to perform a skin graft and basically just cover the open flesh and bone (rather than let Brian look like a person instead of Michael Jackson). This is the part I never quite understood. They took a skin graft from the back of his head - on his scalp. A scalp which was, I might add, covered in hair. I performed wound care for Brian and it really didn't look too bad until a couple days after the op, when his nose started sprouting little black hairs. A few more days passed and Brian eventually had a totally hairy nose.
Suddenly though, the hair had disappeared. I was so happy for Brian until I found him in the bathroom shaving his nose with a razor. That explained that, then.
Night shift handed over to me, and because I was dreaming of my warm bed, I didn't hear exactly what they said, but gathered that a patient, Brian's, belongings were in the fridge.
I went to go put a name tag on what I assumed to be colddrink or something along those lines. However, upon opening the fridge, all I found was a brown paper bag, within which was a polystyrene cup. In the polystyrene cup was a nose. A human nose. Trying to (quite literally) put the pieces of this puzzle together, I went on a quest to find Brian. Indeed Brian had no nose. I don't know what else I was actually expecting. His nose had been bitten off in a fight.
The plastic surgeons soon got to work and realized it would be difficult (and kind of disgusting) to re-attach a nose that had been in a polystyrene cup in a fridge with temperatures that aren't really regulated. Plus, it was kind of old and shrivelled up.
Instead, the surgeons decided to perform a skin graft and basically just cover the open flesh and bone (rather than let Brian look like a person instead of Michael Jackson). This is the part I never quite understood. They took a skin graft from the back of his head - on his scalp. A scalp which was, I might add, covered in hair. I performed wound care for Brian and it really didn't look too bad until a couple days after the op, when his nose started sprouting little black hairs. A few more days passed and Brian eventually had a totally hairy nose.
Suddenly though, the hair had disappeared. I was so happy for Brian until I found him in the bathroom shaving his nose with a razor. That explained that, then.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Momma's Boy
As a nurse, it is not uncommon to have some mildly crazy people walk into your life once in a while. As a nurse named Andy, this tends to happen way too often.
One night, we received a male patient who had been close to ODing on all sorts of drugs. The type of guy that would smoke a teddy bear if it could get him high.
OD patients are renowned for being very difficult and they usually RHT (Refuse Hospital Treatment). This guy came to the ward, screaming and shouting at the nurse transferring him over. We managed to get him into bed and put up a drip. A couple hours later, after walking the hallway searching for ghosts, I saw a trail of blood. I followed the trail like I was a fat Gretel following a trail of Jelly Tots and it led me to the entrance of the ward and our lovely patient trying to escape. I might add that he was pulling on the door that said "PUSH".
The smart ass had ripped his drip out, not realizing that he would leave a trail of blood apparently. He continued to be extremely uncooperative and we couldn't find an awake and functioning doctor to prescribe sedation. So, we did the next best thing.. We called security.
Within 5 minutes, we had ten burly security guards in the ward. The short, skinny patient started shouting insults at the guards. Bad idea. After some manhandling, the patient started screaming that he wanted his "mommy".
I managed to track down "mommy" and she came into the ward. The patient embraced her for a long time and then started yelling insults at her too. He really doesn't learn.
The highlight of my night was when he started asking if his "mommy" could stay overnight with him. I had heard it all! At this stage, I had better things to do with my time, like making a Cup-a-Soup. Later, I realized I hadn't seen or heard from the patient or "mommy". This time, my investigation led me to find him and his mom squeezed into the tiny bed together, spooning. Talk about a close relationship. Now, I had seen everything too.
One night, we received a male patient who had been close to ODing on all sorts of drugs. The type of guy that would smoke a teddy bear if it could get him high.
OD patients are renowned for being very difficult and they usually RHT (Refuse Hospital Treatment). This guy came to the ward, screaming and shouting at the nurse transferring him over. We managed to get him into bed and put up a drip. A couple hours later, after walking the hallway searching for ghosts, I saw a trail of blood. I followed the trail like I was a fat Gretel following a trail of Jelly Tots and it led me to the entrance of the ward and our lovely patient trying to escape. I might add that he was pulling on the door that said "PUSH".
The smart ass had ripped his drip out, not realizing that he would leave a trail of blood apparently. He continued to be extremely uncooperative and we couldn't find an awake and functioning doctor to prescribe sedation. So, we did the next best thing.. We called security.
Within 5 minutes, we had ten burly security guards in the ward. The short, skinny patient started shouting insults at the guards. Bad idea. After some manhandling, the patient started screaming that he wanted his "mommy".
I managed to track down "mommy" and she came into the ward. The patient embraced her for a long time and then started yelling insults at her too. He really doesn't learn.
The highlight of my night was when he started asking if his "mommy" could stay overnight with him. I had heard it all! At this stage, I had better things to do with my time, like making a Cup-a-Soup. Later, I realized I hadn't seen or heard from the patient or "mommy". This time, my investigation led me to find him and his mom squeezed into the tiny bed together, spooning. Talk about a close relationship. Now, I had seen everything too.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Night Shift Naughtiness
Night shift in a government hospital is when things *really* go down. When fun can occur at any moment. Where there is no Matron checking up on you. Where you can discover ghosts and mysteries.. Or so I thought.
My first experience of night duty was in a medical admissions ward (busy one night and quite literally dead quiet the next night when you aren't on intake). Thankfully, I was allocated into this ward with one of my best friends, Christa.
Over my years of studying, I had heard many ghost stories from within the hospital walls. And what better time to explore than during night shift? The one surgical ward had the most incidences: doors slamming closed, patient buzzers ringing in empty rooms, lights flickering.. Some may say this is due to poor workmanship and cheap products - this is public sector afterall. But I was, and am, in denial.
In went Christa and I to explore. Immediately upon entering the ward, we heard soft moaning coming from the kitchen. A ghost that died from 3rd degree burns after an urn fell on her!? No. In we walked to find about 7 staff members fast asleep. One was even sleeping on top of the warming drawer. The moans were actually snores.
We quickly moved on to a medical ward renowned for deaths. Christa sat to prevent varicose veins while I explored. Walking past a room, I saw someone tall standing next to a bed, looking over a patient! I closed my eyes tight and when I opened them again, he was still there! Jackpot! My first ghost sighting! I ran to call Christa. When we got back, I hurriedly switched on the lights to catch him in the act of possibly murdering the innocent patient. It was a drip stand. A drip stand draped with the innocent patients' jacket.
Leaving 8 annoyed, angry and now awake patients with contagious conditions, we gave up the ghost hunt and finished with a boring, uneventful and murder-free night. We sat and watched a DVD, but every time we heard the 'click-clack' of a surprise-visiting Matrons' heels, we ran into a room to pretend we were very busy with patients. You would think that (after years of training), matrons would be smart enough to wear shoes that don't announce their entrance into the wards?
As 5AM rolled on, and feeling too guilty to sleep, I resorted to throwing objects into Christa's open mouth as she was passed out at the nurse's station. Prestik, pieces of paper, elastic bands.. Running out of throwing material, I resorted to a bunch of keys that had most probably been dropped in urine and faeces countless times and got a slam dunk! Don't know how I thought she would sleep through that though. I quickly pretended to be asleep with a slight smile on my face.
My first experience of night duty was in a medical admissions ward (busy one night and quite literally dead quiet the next night when you aren't on intake). Thankfully, I was allocated into this ward with one of my best friends, Christa.
Over my years of studying, I had heard many ghost stories from within the hospital walls. And what better time to explore than during night shift? The one surgical ward had the most incidences: doors slamming closed, patient buzzers ringing in empty rooms, lights flickering.. Some may say this is due to poor workmanship and cheap products - this is public sector afterall. But I was, and am, in denial.
In went Christa and I to explore. Immediately upon entering the ward, we heard soft moaning coming from the kitchen. A ghost that died from 3rd degree burns after an urn fell on her!? No. In we walked to find about 7 staff members fast asleep. One was even sleeping on top of the warming drawer. The moans were actually snores.
We quickly moved on to a medical ward renowned for deaths. Christa sat to prevent varicose veins while I explored. Walking past a room, I saw someone tall standing next to a bed, looking over a patient! I closed my eyes tight and when I opened them again, he was still there! Jackpot! My first ghost sighting! I ran to call Christa. When we got back, I hurriedly switched on the lights to catch him in the act of possibly murdering the innocent patient. It was a drip stand. A drip stand draped with the innocent patients' jacket.
Leaving 8 annoyed, angry and now awake patients with contagious conditions, we gave up the ghost hunt and finished with a boring, uneventful and murder-free night. We sat and watched a DVD, but every time we heard the 'click-clack' of a surprise-visiting Matrons' heels, we ran into a room to pretend we were very busy with patients. You would think that (after years of training), matrons would be smart enough to wear shoes that don't announce their entrance into the wards?
As 5AM rolled on, and feeling too guilty to sleep, I resorted to throwing objects into Christa's open mouth as she was passed out at the nurse's station. Prestik, pieces of paper, elastic bands.. Running out of throwing material, I resorted to a bunch of keys that had most probably been dropped in urine and faeces countless times and got a slam dunk! Don't know how I thought she would sleep through that though. I quickly pretended to be asleep with a slight smile on my face.
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