Musings on a non-take call shift following consumption of excessive caffeine.
I think I like being on call.
This is not to say that I don't actively dread my upcoming call shifts on those days when I'm not on call. I always pity to unlucky resident who has to stay overnight on a Friday when the rest of us get to go home and gambol/frolic/caper our way into the weekend.
But I find that I enjoy actually BEING on call. I like the hospital late at night. There's practically no one around, and you can wander the halls randomly. No one looks at you funny when you buy nothing but vending machine junk food for dinner. You don't have to elbow people aside to get access to the computers. Nurses look at you with joy because you're generally arriving to help them with something they've specifically asked you about, not to pester them because Mr Z's urinalysis still has not been done and you feel obligated to review it.
I feel much more useful when I'm on call. All those patients who are just sitting in hospital, waiting to go to long term care, fade into the background, and the really exciting (terrifying) acute ones all come to the fore.
Tonight I have, in no particular order, a 90-ish lady with congestive heart failure and chronic renal failure who bounces between pulmonary edema and complete oliguria, a 40 something man who is dying, not of the cancer he was brought into hospital with, but of the fungus which has settled in his brain due to the chemo (well, and the cancer) which has killed his immune system, a 70-something gentleman who looks like Santa and who keeps having copious bloody bowel movements and needing blood, and an 80-ish woman who will not wake up, and for the life of me I cannot figure out why.
And while it is definately likely that one or more of these people will have a difficult time getting through the night, I find it very satisfying to rise to each challenge and (hopefully) avert the crises as they come. Being on call doesn't mean you fix anything permanently...most of these people need specialized interventions I just can't provide. It means you walk the fine line needed to keep patients going until the next morning.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some bloodwork to go check.
This is not to say that I don't actively dread my upcoming call shifts on those days when I'm not on call. I always pity to unlucky resident who has to stay overnight on a Friday when the rest of us get to go home and gambol/frolic/caper our way into the weekend.
But I find that I enjoy actually BEING on call. I like the hospital late at night. There's practically no one around, and you can wander the halls randomly. No one looks at you funny when you buy nothing but vending machine junk food for dinner. You don't have to elbow people aside to get access to the computers. Nurses look at you with joy because you're generally arriving to help them with something they've specifically asked you about, not to pester them because Mr Z's urinalysis still has not been done and you feel obligated to review it.
I feel much more useful when I'm on call. All those patients who are just sitting in hospital, waiting to go to long term care, fade into the background, and the really exciting (terrifying) acute ones all come to the fore.
Tonight I have, in no particular order, a 90-ish lady with congestive heart failure and chronic renal failure who bounces between pulmonary edema and complete oliguria, a 40 something man who is dying, not of the cancer he was brought into hospital with, but of the fungus which has settled in his brain due to the chemo (well, and the cancer) which has killed his immune system, a 70-something gentleman who looks like Santa and who keeps having copious bloody bowel movements and needing blood, and an 80-ish woman who will not wake up, and for the life of me I cannot figure out why.
And while it is definately likely that one or more of these people will have a difficult time getting through the night, I find it very satisfying to rise to each challenge and (hopefully) avert the crises as they come. Being on call doesn't mean you fix anything permanently...most of these people need specialized interventions I just can't provide. It means you walk the fine line needed to keep patients going until the next morning.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some bloodwork to go check.
posted by Keltok at 7:38 PM
2 Comments:
sounds like your melding into your work. thats a very good thing to be excited and enjoying your work. it can be tiresome and boring, but also exciting and challenging to get thru it. just think that u can keep them alive to the sun comes up.
sounds scary and kinda gross
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