We sat in Row Q.
[insert knee-slapping laughter]
3 years ago
Friday, July 27, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
When you wish upon a star
I love Disneyland!
...and we both just got our annual Disneyland Season Pass!!
Buzz Lightyear, here we come!
Buzz Lightyear, here we come!
It's going to be a very good - and magical - year.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Why you should always have an extra pair of scrubs
My pager went off just a little past midnight.
"Doctor! Patient emergency!! COME QUICK!"
I was fumbling for my glasses, as the nurse continued to freak out over the phone. "Your new admission is on the floor, not moving, completely unresponsive!" As she slammed the phone down, I could hear her ordering someone else to grab the reserve oxygen tank.
Shit.
I had admitted him three hours ago, and he seemed like my typical schizophrenic, refusing to talk to me, claiming that I was going to do "Pentagon experiments" on him, which was so wrong, because didn't I know that he is the Chief of ALL police?!!? Please, he had terrorists and aliens to go apprehend, and I was keeping him from performing his civic duty.
I dashed out of my call room and started running toward the ward, my past six months of neurology/internal medicine/pediatrics training in place and in gear, as I tried to figure out everything that might have gone wrong. Did he have a seizure? I gave him a smaller dose of antipsychotic because he was older, but maybe it was still too much? Did he have an allergy? What did I miss? What had I forgotten?
I got to the unit, and the moment my key turned in the lock, the nurses surrounded me, each trying to tell me what they had seen. "He said he needed to use the bathroom, and then before I knew it he was on the ground," "He said he needed to use the bathroom? He told me he was hungry and then he sat down on the ground," "Well at least that's what his sitter said..."
I made my way to his room, where my patient was lying, flat on his back and as stiff as a board, on the floor, with his arms folded across his chest, mummy-style. "Mr. Tagg, can you hear me?" He didn't respond, but he opened his right eye just a sliver, saw me looking at him, and then shut it tightly again.
The nurses swarmed into the room at that time, "DOCTOR! SEE? He's not answering! Should we call 911? Do you want the oxygen tank?!?!"
"No, don't call 911. What are his vitals? Why does he need oxygen?" I responded, as I pushed him onto his side. "Oh, we didn't do his vitals yet," the nurses told me. "Oh hm, well, let's get those first," I responded as the nurses bustled around me. I pulled out my stethoscope and was about to listen to his lungs when my patient let out the smelliest, loudest, biggest fart. "Heh heh heh" he chuckled to himself, all while still refusing to answer to his name.
"Doctor, here are his vitals: Pulse 83, blood pressure 115/78, oxygen saturation 100%."
"Yeah, we don't need to call 911. And he doesn't need that oxygen, so please, don't open that nasal cannula packet," I responded as I continued my physical exam.
Since my patient refused to respond, he was still lying on the ground, also refusing to move. So I crouched around him, as I tried to maneuver his arms off his chest so that I could listen to his heart. Then, all of a sudden, my feet were wet. And so were my knees.
And my patient started chuckling.
He had just peed all over the floor. And subsequently, had soaked my scrubs.
I jumped up instinctively, and he then jumped up as well and ran to the bathroom.
The best part? As I was leaving the unit (still urine-soaked), one of the nurses stopped me. "Doctor, do we need to call 911? Urinary incontinence -- that means he had a seizure right??"
No, that just means he's being a difficult schizophrenic patient.
"Doctor! Patient emergency!! COME QUICK!"
I was fumbling for my glasses, as the nurse continued to freak out over the phone. "Your new admission is on the floor, not moving, completely unresponsive!" As she slammed the phone down, I could hear her ordering someone else to grab the reserve oxygen tank.
Shit.
I had admitted him three hours ago, and he seemed like my typical schizophrenic, refusing to talk to me, claiming that I was going to do "Pentagon experiments" on him, which was so wrong, because didn't I know that he is the Chief of ALL police?!!? Please, he had terrorists and aliens to go apprehend, and I was keeping him from performing his civic duty.
I dashed out of my call room and started running toward the ward, my past six months of neurology/internal medicine/pediatrics training in place and in gear, as I tried to figure out everything that might have gone wrong. Did he have a seizure? I gave him a smaller dose of antipsychotic because he was older, but maybe it was still too much? Did he have an allergy? What did I miss? What had I forgotten?
I got to the unit, and the moment my key turned in the lock, the nurses surrounded me, each trying to tell me what they had seen. "He said he needed to use the bathroom, and then before I knew it he was on the ground," "He said he needed to use the bathroom? He told me he was hungry and then he sat down on the ground," "Well at least that's what his sitter said..."
I made my way to his room, where my patient was lying, flat on his back and as stiff as a board, on the floor, with his arms folded across his chest, mummy-style. "Mr. Tagg, can you hear me?" He didn't respond, but he opened his right eye just a sliver, saw me looking at him, and then shut it tightly again.
The nurses swarmed into the room at that time, "DOCTOR! SEE? He's not answering! Should we call 911? Do you want the oxygen tank?!?!"
"No, don't call 911. What are his vitals? Why does he need oxygen?" I responded, as I pushed him onto his side. "Oh, we didn't do his vitals yet," the nurses told me. "Oh hm, well, let's get those first," I responded as the nurses bustled around me. I pulled out my stethoscope and was about to listen to his lungs when my patient let out the smelliest, loudest, biggest fart. "Heh heh heh" he chuckled to himself, all while still refusing to answer to his name.
"Doctor, here are his vitals: Pulse 83, blood pressure 115/78, oxygen saturation 100%."
"Yeah, we don't need to call 911. And he doesn't need that oxygen, so please, don't open that nasal cannula packet," I responded as I continued my physical exam.
Since my patient refused to respond, he was still lying on the ground, also refusing to move. So I crouched around him, as I tried to maneuver his arms off his chest so that I could listen to his heart. Then, all of a sudden, my feet were wet. And so were my knees.
And my patient started chuckling.
He had just peed all over the floor. And subsequently, had soaked my scrubs.
I jumped up instinctively, and he then jumped up as well and ran to the bathroom.
The best part? As I was leaving the unit (still urine-soaked), one of the nurses stopped me. "Doctor, do we need to call 911? Urinary incontinence -- that means he had a seizure right??"
No, that just means he's being a difficult schizophrenic patient.
Saturday, July 07, 2012
Our first movie and a dinner date in months
...and holy smokes Spiderman! Andrew Garfield just might be my new nerdy hipster celebrity crush. (Sorry Joseph Gordon-Levitt.)
P.S. I think every girl should be spun around by biocable webs and kissed like there's no tomorrow. Seriously, so sexy. Sigh. Don't mind me, I'm just swooning over here.
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
Always
Driving home after a long day of call at our inpatient psych hospital in Compton, I saw a lot of fireworks.
A lot of illegal fireworks, that is. Fireworks being shot off of roofs, parking lots, swimming pools, cars, etc.
And I gotta say, I really miss those fabulous Lake Michigan firework displays.
Chicago, you will always have my heart.
A lot of illegal fireworks, that is. Fireworks being shot off of roofs, parking lots, swimming pools, cars, etc.
And I gotta say, I really miss those fabulous Lake Michigan firework displays.
Chicago, you will always have my heart.
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
Parlez vous francais?
So much for intern of the year.
My first day was a nightmare come to life.
Except I was wearing clothes.
Yet, I couldn't help but feel that being clothed was worse than being naked. Because, maybe if I were naked, everyone would be better distracted from my complete and utter incompetence.
"I don't know." "Uh, I'll have to review the chart." "Er, I'm not sure." "Let me get back to you about that." "I'll have to look into that." "Oh, good point. Uh, yeah, I'll keep that in mind." "No, I don't know." "Um, which one is my patient again?"
I haven't felt this lost since French III Honors.
Fingers crossed that I'll find my bearings. And soon.
My first day was a nightmare come to life.
Except I was wearing clothes.
Yet, I couldn't help but feel that being clothed was worse than being naked. Because, maybe if I were naked, everyone would be better distracted from my complete and utter incompetence.
"I don't know." "Uh, I'll have to review the chart." "Er, I'm not sure." "Let me get back to you about that." "I'll have to look into that." "Oh, good point. Uh, yeah, I'll keep that in mind." "No, I don't know." "Um, which one is my patient again?"
I haven't felt this lost since French III Honors.
Fingers crossed that I'll find my bearings. And soon.
