Working in Orthopaedic Ward means lots of urine testing due to the high risk of patients developing kidney stones and urinary tract infections thanks to a 'wee' term called "urinary stasis" - sorry I couldn't help myself with the pun.
Myself and Cindy did urine testing together. I took a urinal from a patient and we met in the Sluice Room to do the test. I poured the urine out into a clear measuring jar and it looked a bit cloudy. We put the test stick in and noticed that the cloudiness was actually sperm which started clinging to our test strip.
We stood in the Sluice Room giggling and gagging for ages. I can't handle urine. urine with sperm is on a whole other level. Even thinking about it now - three years later - makes me want to vom all over my keyboard.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Manny the Mortician(s)
There are two morticians in the hospital, both with the same name - Manny. They smell vaguely of cabbage and death in a bone marrow stew. Either they never wash their hair, or they rub their heads on decomposing dead bodies, but their hair is literally dripping with oil, sweat (and occasionally faeces). You hardly ever hear them speak, but when you do, you can be certain that they will crack a really insensitive joke and burst out laughing - displaying their missing and rotten teeth. I remember being distraught after seeing and caring for my first dead patient, and through my tears, I saw brown teeth smiling at my 'special delivery'.
The scariest situation is when you get into an elevator with one of them. It's just you, a mortician, and a cold body covered in plastic and a green cloth. As you can imagine, not much conversation goes down. In fact, I have never said a word to either Manny for fear of them stealing my soul. Now, imagine actually getting stuck in the lift with one of them. Considering this is a government hospital, it is safe to say the lifts will stop working a couple times a week. I say I take the stairs to maintain my fitness. This is a lie.
If you go down to the morgue, you have to be careful because if the morticians see you walk into one of the big fridges, they hide under the trolleys and grab your leg unexpectedly (meaning you literally need a change of panties). These big fridges are the freakiest thing. They are so cold, and you just see bodies piled on top of each other. Occasionally, a stupid, dumbass nurse will get a body bag for a patient that is too small, and instead of wasting it and getting a bigger one, they will cut a slit through the top of the bag and the bottom so that all you see are feet and tops of heads sticking out. Ever heard of frostbite?
Word on the hospital corridor is that you can hear the sound of ghosts singing at the morgue at night. I walked there on my own one night in an attempt to see, or hear, a ghost. Truth be told, all I heard was my own screams as I ran back to my ward - Cindy had thought it funny to hide behind a wall and jump out at me. :(
The scariest situation is when you get into an elevator with one of them. It's just you, a mortician, and a cold body covered in plastic and a green cloth. As you can imagine, not much conversation goes down. In fact, I have never said a word to either Manny for fear of them stealing my soul. Now, imagine actually getting stuck in the lift with one of them. Considering this is a government hospital, it is safe to say the lifts will stop working a couple times a week. I say I take the stairs to maintain my fitness. This is a lie.
If you go down to the morgue, you have to be careful because if the morticians see you walk into one of the big fridges, they hide under the trolleys and grab your leg unexpectedly (meaning you literally need a change of panties). These big fridges are the freakiest thing. They are so cold, and you just see bodies piled on top of each other. Occasionally, a stupid, dumbass nurse will get a body bag for a patient that is too small, and instead of wasting it and getting a bigger one, they will cut a slit through the top of the bag and the bottom so that all you see are feet and tops of heads sticking out. Ever heard of frostbite?
Word on the hospital corridor is that you can hear the sound of ghosts singing at the morgue at night. I walked there on my own one night in an attempt to see, or hear, a ghost. Truth be told, all I heard was my own screams as I ran back to my ward - Cindy had thought it funny to hide behind a wall and jump out at me. :(
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Pee On Your Own Time!
Admission wards are known for being hectically busy. You are constantly moving patients out to other wards and spend all your time admitting new patients from Casualty. The only reason it's nice is because it actually gives you something to do, rather than sitting on your arse drinking tea all day (for which South African nurses are renowned).
One day, I was working a twelve-hour shift (which, I'm sure you've established, is my definition of hell) in an Admission ward. Typical of my luck, it was coming to the end of my shift and at 18:45 I received a new patient to admit. If you work hard enough, you can finish a PROPER admission in about 30 minutes. So, I wasn't too bothered, 15 minutes extra isn't all that bad. The patient was a man with suspected Tick Bite Fever. I, being the over-achiever I am, decided to help out the doctor by drawing bloods, getting a urine sample, etc. Getting the blood was simple (I find simple pleasure in sticking a needle into bulging veins), but getting the urine was a whole 'nother story.
The patient told me he needed to pee, which was awesome because that way I could kill two birds with one stone: he gets relieved, I get pee. I bring him a urinal and go back to file auditing. I could see he was having trouble, so I left the room to give him some 'privacy'. I got back to him five minutes later (most likely because I was trying to convince permanent staff not to leave me alone in charge of the ward) all cheerful *time to go home* "Mr. Peters, are you done?". He huffs and puffs, still holding the urinal to his groin and squeaks out "No." I learnt a little tip to turn on a tap to help someone pee, so I did this while sneakily looking at my watch. It had already hit 19:20. Behind the closed curtain, I could still hear Mr. Peters huffing and puffing. I stood for another five minutes, looking around the room, peering out the window, trying not to whistle, hoping for a miracle in the form of a Golden Shower of pee. Seriously, its 19:25 - he can pee on me if he wants, as long as he pees. No such luck. I go up to him, and ask what I can do to help.. WHYYYY OH WHY DID I DO THAT?! Mr. Peters says: "I'm just struggling to hold it, can you hold it for me?" I thought he was talking about the urinal which I immediately grabbed, but noooo he needed me to hold his penis. Yep, you read that right. So, I awkwardly grabbed a pair of gloves and gently gripped his manhood. We stood there for close to 10 minutes waiting for him to pee. My free hand was force-feeding him water and diuretics in an attempt for some gold beneath the rainbow.
A couple different positions and tactics and he still hadn't peed. It was past 8 by this stage and eventually I thought "Screw it". I work too damn hard just for a freaking drop of pee. I left him with his urinal and with the situation now the responsibility of night staff. Believe you me, by that stage I needed to pee like a hippopotamus and ran back to the nurse's residence clenching.
One day, I was working a twelve-hour shift (which, I'm sure you've established, is my definition of hell) in an Admission ward. Typical of my luck, it was coming to the end of my shift and at 18:45 I received a new patient to admit. If you work hard enough, you can finish a PROPER admission in about 30 minutes. So, I wasn't too bothered, 15 minutes extra isn't all that bad. The patient was a man with suspected Tick Bite Fever. I, being the over-achiever I am, decided to help out the doctor by drawing bloods, getting a urine sample, etc. Getting the blood was simple (I find simple pleasure in sticking a needle into bulging veins), but getting the urine was a whole 'nother story.
The patient told me he needed to pee, which was awesome because that way I could kill two birds with one stone: he gets relieved, I get pee. I bring him a urinal and go back to file auditing. I could see he was having trouble, so I left the room to give him some 'privacy'. I got back to him five minutes later (most likely because I was trying to convince permanent staff not to leave me alone in charge of the ward) all cheerful *time to go home* "Mr. Peters, are you done?". He huffs and puffs, still holding the urinal to his groin and squeaks out "No." I learnt a little tip to turn on a tap to help someone pee, so I did this while sneakily looking at my watch. It had already hit 19:20. Behind the closed curtain, I could still hear Mr. Peters huffing and puffing. I stood for another five minutes, looking around the room, peering out the window, trying not to whistle, hoping for a miracle in the form of a Golden Shower of pee. Seriously, its 19:25 - he can pee on me if he wants, as long as he pees. No such luck. I go up to him, and ask what I can do to help.. WHYYYY OH WHY DID I DO THAT?! Mr. Peters says: "I'm just struggling to hold it, can you hold it for me?" I thought he was talking about the urinal which I immediately grabbed, but noooo he needed me to hold his penis. Yep, you read that right. So, I awkwardly grabbed a pair of gloves and gently gripped his manhood. We stood there for close to 10 minutes waiting for him to pee. My free hand was force-feeding him water and diuretics in an attempt for some gold beneath the rainbow.
A couple different positions and tactics and he still hadn't peed. It was past 8 by this stage and eventually I thought "Screw it". I work too damn hard just for a freaking drop of pee. I left him with his urinal and with the situation now the responsibility of night staff. Believe you me, by that stage I needed to pee like a hippopotamus and ran back to the nurse's residence clenching.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Night Duty Nightmare... Again
As has already been established, night duty is where the real shit goes down. Cindy and myself were in a Medical ward together and were honestly the only two staff members awake. The permanent staff who are IN CHARGE find their sleep more important. Of course, with this luck, lots of things went wrong but we loved every moment of it.
I had a semi-comatose patient falling in and out of consciousness because his blood sugar levels were extremely low - I couldn't even get a reading on the machine. This is never good because they go into coma and ultimately die without immediate interventions. So, you have to do everything you can to keep that person alive. I put up numerous 50% Dextrose in 50ml (sugar water) through his IV line every five minutes and his blood sugar levels would just not increase. Next best thing, is to get him to drink it.
That's right: get a semi-comatose man to drink sugar water. So there I sat with a 50ml syringe filled with this potent sugar water. I put down the sides of his bed, jump onto the bed and cradle his head under my arm and on my lap. Every time he'd gain consciousness (even if only for a second), I would quickly push some sugar water into his mouth. Oftentimes, he would quickly close his mouth - which makes me think he was totally faking it - and the sugar water would run down onto my nice new pants. Other times, he would take the sugar water into his mouth, start breathing through his mouth before swallowing, and spit the sugar water all over me.
I honestly think I ingested more sugar water than he did. Plus, after the amount of his saliva I must have swallowed, we may as well have been French kissing. Eventually, after much fighting the system, and trying to learn Zulu words to tell him what to do, he got better.
I left the patient, smiling in his bed, with my pants stuck to my leg, and an eye sealed closed - all thanks to the sugar water - while swearing in Zulu.
I had a semi-comatose patient falling in and out of consciousness because his blood sugar levels were extremely low - I couldn't even get a reading on the machine. This is never good because they go into coma and ultimately die without immediate interventions. So, you have to do everything you can to keep that person alive. I put up numerous 50% Dextrose in 50ml (sugar water) through his IV line every five minutes and his blood sugar levels would just not increase. Next best thing, is to get him to drink it.
That's right: get a semi-comatose man to drink sugar water. So there I sat with a 50ml syringe filled with this potent sugar water. I put down the sides of his bed, jump onto the bed and cradle his head under my arm and on my lap. Every time he'd gain consciousness (even if only for a second), I would quickly push some sugar water into his mouth. Oftentimes, he would quickly close his mouth - which makes me think he was totally faking it - and the sugar water would run down onto my nice new pants. Other times, he would take the sugar water into his mouth, start breathing through his mouth before swallowing, and spit the sugar water all over me.
I honestly think I ingested more sugar water than he did. Plus, after the amount of his saliva I must have swallowed, we may as well have been French kissing. Eventually, after much fighting the system, and trying to learn Zulu words to tell him what to do, he got better.
I left the patient, smiling in his bed, with my pants stuck to my leg, and an eye sealed closed - all thanks to the sugar water - while swearing in Zulu.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Sister Zee
Theatre was interesting for a number of reasons. I had to work 50 hours in theatre, which I completed recently. On our first day there, after orientation about where everything was (which I couldn't care less about considering I didn't want to fetch anything - I just wanted to see blood and gore), a sister came up to us and introduced herself. "Hi guys, I'm Sister Zee." She seemed pretty cool. It was only later I realized that she suffers from raging Bipolar Disorder. She can be heard screaming from the opposite side of the theatre at some unwitting student nurse, she can be heard making orgasm noises when the electricity goes off (which happens unsurprisingly often in this hospital), she can be seen throwing things like Pencil Drains at nurses..
On a boring Sunday, with ZERO cases for theatre, my fellow colleagues and I sat in the recovery room. I played Sudoku for a while and then had wheelchair races with Ariel, while the others watched a movie on a laptop. Luckily for us, Sister Zee was on a warpath and found us. "THERE ARE SEVEN OF YOU SITTING HERE! There were five of us. THERE'S LOTS TO DO! There was nothing to do. EMPTY THE SHARPS BUCKETS! Done already. STOCK THE TROLLEYS! Finished. NEXT TIME, YOU WILL BE THE PATIENT! THAT IS MY SINCERE PRAYER - THAT NEXT TIME, YOU ARE THE PATIENT!". Is that a threat? We later saw her sitting in a chair rocking backward and forward, whispering, "Next time, you'll be the patient" over and over again. Maybe it isn't Bipolar as much as it is insanity?
Just one look at her eye make-up and oily skin and you would swear yourself to celibacy (whether male or female). Although, from the orgasm noises, I would say she must be pretty damn good in bed.
A week or two later, Sister Zee was looking for some fellow nursing students who I know for a fact piss off back to their rooms and sleep for most of the day when they should be working. They magically arrive back at work when it's time to get signed to knock off for the day. Sister Zee informs me that they are useless and in their rooms "wanking" when they should be working. "NEXT TIME, THEY'LL BE THE PATIENT!" I get the effing point, woman.
On a boring Sunday, with ZERO cases for theatre, my fellow colleagues and I sat in the recovery room. I played Sudoku for a while and then had wheelchair races with Ariel, while the others watched a movie on a laptop. Luckily for us, Sister Zee was on a warpath and found us. "THERE ARE SEVEN OF YOU SITTING HERE! There were five of us. THERE'S LOTS TO DO! There was nothing to do. EMPTY THE SHARPS BUCKETS! Done already. STOCK THE TROLLEYS! Finished. NEXT TIME, YOU WILL BE THE PATIENT! THAT IS MY SINCERE PRAYER - THAT NEXT TIME, YOU ARE THE PATIENT!". Is that a threat? We later saw her sitting in a chair rocking backward and forward, whispering, "Next time, you'll be the patient" over and over again. Maybe it isn't Bipolar as much as it is insanity?
Just one look at her eye make-up and oily skin and you would swear yourself to celibacy (whether male or female). Although, from the orgasm noises, I would say she must be pretty damn good in bed.
A week or two later, Sister Zee was looking for some fellow nursing students who I know for a fact piss off back to their rooms and sleep for most of the day when they should be working. They magically arrive back at work when it's time to get signed to knock off for the day. Sister Zee informs me that they are useless and in their rooms "wanking" when they should be working. "NEXT TIME, THEY'LL BE THE PATIENT!" I get the effing point, woman.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Maggots for Breakfast?
I once had to change an old man's nappy, before transferring him to a different ward. So, I take off the dirty nappy and open his legs to wipe him and I see holes in his 'gooch' area opening up - they must have been about 4cm deep and I could see into him. That's generally not a good thing, what with all the TB, sputum, vomit and crap found in a Medical ward.
I opened his legs wider to further inspect whatever damage was present and maggots started running out of the holes and started going everywhere. I gagged. I went to call the Sister-in-charge and she tells me, "Just close him up with a new nappy and take him to the other ward." I do as told by my senior.
In the other ward, I informed the staff about the maggots. Their jaws dropped and I swifty got the hell out of there before they could change their minds about accepting the patient.
I now wish you all a very pleasant breakfast, lunch or supper. x
I opened his legs wider to further inspect whatever damage was present and maggots started running out of the holes and started going everywhere. I gagged. I went to call the Sister-in-charge and she tells me, "Just close him up with a new nappy and take him to the other ward." I do as told by my senior.
In the other ward, I informed the staff about the maggots. Their jaws dropped and I swifty got the hell out of there before they could change their minds about accepting the patient.
I now wish you all a very pleasant breakfast, lunch or supper. x
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
No Crazy for Me Today!
Myself, Cindy and Ariel often sit outside the main entrance of the hospital on concrete steps. Firstly, because the cafeteria smells like shit and secondly, because the Canteen only sells Food Poisoning. The psychiatric patients on the second floor often look down at us sitting in the freedom and tend to take a liking to me and wave at me constantly.
I kept seeing the same patient for a couple of weeks. He would wave at me every time he saw me and he would gesture over and over that I must come up and visit him. No thanks, not ready to be murdered today! I haven't seen him in a while. Maybe he was discharged. Or paralysed by a tazer or all the anti-crazy pills. Or sitting outside my bedroom window right now, watching me.
The Psychiatric Ward is very interesting and very scary. Rebecca and I would often sit outside the Psych Ward during a tea break. We would sit watching the patients walking around expressionless, take photos, prod at them with a pole.. That sort of thing.
These patients often try to escape through a locked gate (get the logic in that?) but this doesn't turn out well because security guards beat them down with batons. If the patients aren't running at the gate like a battering ram, they are running up and down the corridors with security guards chasing after them. Those bitches are fast.
Once, I had to enter the ward ON MY FREAKING OWN. I walk in and a big, sweaty man runs straight up to me, introduces himself and gives me the biggest hug. He smells like baby vomit. He then grabs my hand and gives me a tour of the place. "This is where we eat, this is where we get tazered, this is where we can smoke, this is where the elephants eat the pineapples.." I'm pretty sure I had a couple tears running down my face at this stage. All I could think was "I don't want to dieeeee!". I eventually got away from baby vomit guy and walked towards the nurses station. The really crazy patients are locked in their rooms behind bars and all you hear is simultaneous screaming and laughter.
I think I need to be admitted there after that experience.
I kept seeing the same patient for a couple of weeks. He would wave at me every time he saw me and he would gesture over and over that I must come up and visit him. No thanks, not ready to be murdered today! I haven't seen him in a while. Maybe he was discharged. Or paralysed by a tazer or all the anti-crazy pills. Or sitting outside my bedroom window right now, watching me.
The Psychiatric Ward is very interesting and very scary. Rebecca and I would often sit outside the Psych Ward during a tea break. We would sit watching the patients walking around expressionless, take photos, prod at them with a pole.. That sort of thing.
These patients often try to escape through a locked gate (get the logic in that?) but this doesn't turn out well because security guards beat them down with batons. If the patients aren't running at the gate like a battering ram, they are running up and down the corridors with security guards chasing after them. Those bitches are fast.
Once, I had to enter the ward ON MY FREAKING OWN. I walk in and a big, sweaty man runs straight up to me, introduces himself and gives me the biggest hug. He smells like baby vomit. He then grabs my hand and gives me a tour of the place. "This is where we eat, this is where we get tazered, this is where we can smoke, this is where the elephants eat the pineapples.." I'm pretty sure I had a couple tears running down my face at this stage. All I could think was "I don't want to dieeeee!". I eventually got away from baby vomit guy and walked towards the nurses station. The really crazy patients are locked in their rooms behind bars and all you hear is simultaneous screaming and laughter.
I think I need to be admitted there after that experience.
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