Shock room

I'm starting to get the feeling that we wouldn't need so many ERs if stairs didn't exist. It might be the most common reason for an ER visit - a tumble down the stairs.

Today we had our first "shock room" patient. I have no idea why they call it that, it's the room for the most urgent of patients.

This buzz of energy washed through the ER and patients who had been waiting for over an hour *in* treatment rooms had to wait even longer.

Half the nurses disappeared into the shock room, and invited me and Felix to observe, and invited Maik to help. (Felix was jealous, I know.)

The head doctor donned a blaze orange vest that said, TEAM LEADER, in English. Two anesthesiologists were there, three nurses, and one nurse from the radiology dept. 10 of us in the room with the most equipment to save lives.

As we waited for the ambulance, everyone was smiling and joking around and it was almost a party atmosphere, the feel of there. Excitement. I thought, "How strange, that everyone is so intensely happy at this moment."

When the brightly- clothed medics arrived with the patient, I shivered in longing, cuz those are MY PEOPLE! And the gurney (?) and EKG they arrived with, those are MY THINGS! I know all of that!  The ambulance EKG was singing its little song that I remember well. Let me do it! I'm one of you...almost....

The patient:  poor girl, 19 years old, is a dancer and had fallen during a back flip and had loss of sensation in her arms. She could barely talk, but I heard her say, "I'm going to be sick"  - she was in so much pain. I know she was given pain meds, geez, why won't they give her enough to really help! (cuz they need to communicate with her, probably).

She was on a vacuum mattress (Yes,  I can do that blindfolded!) to immobilize her, and they moved her with amazing precision, well, the kind of precision you expect from a team of 8.

They put a new neck brace on her called a "Philadelphia tie" (?) and we took her to radiology and put her in the machine, something I'd never seen in my life, it was called a CT (not an MRT).

Then they whisked her away to a room and I wandered back to the ER, wondering if she had any family members on their way. To be alone in this place would be horrible.

Now for something lighthearted.

I spent a full hour in a treatment room with an elderly man in a wheelchair whose hearing was so bad we couldn't really converse. But I did my best, with hand signals, and we seemed to bond. I discovered that I can open the huge window wide, and there was a "monkey tree" directly there. I was amazed, as it waved its arms in the wind, almost as if it was going to walk away. And the trunk was covered in huge thorns! You couldn't rest against that tree! I hoped the man enjoyed it. He agreed with me that it's not a native German tree.

He had a head injury from a fall, and since he was on blood thinners, they require him to stay for 48 hours. He refused, despite Selina arguing with him. She seemed really miffed that he would not stay. *

Now that I've been here 3 days I would not want to stay either! *scowl*

The poor guy, blood all over his face and neck, finally said, "I have to urinate."

Well, that's new. I've never had to deal with that before! What the heck to I do? I've assisted handicapped people but never in a hospital.

Thankfully nurse Mark was right next door and I said, "What do I do, if a patient has to pee?"

"Can he walk?"

"No."

"OK I'll help you. Selina, you're with me."

They stood him up from his wheelchair, pulled down his pants, and put a urinal between his legs. Then they sat him down, and left the room.

Leaving me alone with him....and I thought, Oh dear, I'm bladder shy, I wonder if he's bladder shy! Oh dear. I just stared at that monkey tree.

Finally I heard him pee and was so relieved. Poor guy, having to pee in front of a stranger.

I gave him a while to decide whether he was done and then I took away the urinal and called for Mark. We got him clothed again and Mark showed me how to dispose of the urine. No, you don't dump it in a toilet (who knew) - you put it in The Machine. OK. Urine and all.

Mark's always got a smile for me, and I appreciate it so much.

Now back to the room. Suddenly Felix pops in,  his shift just starting. FELIX!

He is always trying to help me accomplish my goals, and literally no one else cares (not even my "boss" even though I showed him my list of tasks). Felix said, "Hey, maybe you could clean up his face, the blood?"

I said, "GREAT! Cuz I just cleaned the entire room, and I need something to do." Felix looks at the patient, "Young man, did you spray blood everywhere?" *lol* (It's a weird German thing for young people to call elders, "young man/young lady.")

I excitedly got my medicinal whatchamacallit fluid and a million "towels".

I started from his head injury and worked my way down, gently removing the blood, and trying to get his hair back in order.

The blood went so far down I ran out of towels and had to get more. I periodically showed him the towels, cuz I think patients should have the right to SEE what we're doing whenever possible, including xray pictures, and their own EKG or BP. Why not share that info? (correct me if I'm wrong!)

Then I started again with new supplies and realized at the end that his ear was full of blood.

I will let you know that I have never been squeamish about blood. Blood is kind of beautiful, in my mind. And wounds are no problem. Infections, pus, urine, worse than all that, I'm fine so far.

To elucidate, when I worked at United Cerebral Palsy, I had to manually stimulate my patient to move her bowels every Monday morning at 7. I think you can imagine what I mean. No problem. 

But as I cleaned out his ear I had the feeling I was getting not just blood, but ear-crud, cuz the blood was black. I had eaten lunch and suddenly I felt precariously near puking, even though I was enjoying myself.

I cannot handle bodily fluids besides blood. Ear gunk, no. Eye gunk even on my own horse, I cannot touch it. I can clean his sheath without gloves but  I cannot wipe gunk out of his eye. My husband can, funnily.

So I battled the sickness and kept at it until his ear was clean. It's hard for me to even type this now, cuz I keep seeing it in my mind. Blood/ear gunk. I realize now that I needn't do such a thorough job. But  had nothing else to do.

I wrapped the stinkingest bedsore today yet. Urine and infection combined. But that was nothing compared to cleaning out a mostly healthy guy's ear.

So now you know my limits in the hospital....so far!

***

* - Selina seemed really pissed that my pee-pee/ear gunk patient wanted to go home, despite being on blood thinners. Eventually he went elsewhere and another patient occupied the same room, and this was another elderly man with a similar head injury. This one had a wife by him the entire time, how nice.

After the shock room experience (yah, those people had to wait that long!!), Selina entered the room.

She looked at the man with the head injury and said to Mark, "Have you convinced him to stay here finally?"

Felix and I looked at each other. Um....

(Selina.....wrong patient.)

Felix whispered to me, "He's got a different shirt on, from the other patient."

I whispered back, "He has a different FACE on, from the other."

(I must admit, I have that deficiency where I am lacking at recognizing faces. But after spending an hour with my first ear cleaning patient, I won't forget him so soon.)

So, Selina is a little bit jaded, I think that is the word. Where you look at a patient and you identify them by their 1. condition and 2. room number. Not who they are.

"So, Mr. head injury needs to go....and Mrs. neck injury needs to go...."

I guess that is only logical, it's just part of the ER, I suppose.

To combat this, I always try to find out the patient's name, and as they leave us, I say "Frau Smith, feel better soon!"

2 more days in ER and then ...no idea. I love this not knowing though.