INTRODUCTIONS AND CONFUSIONS
My work at Ponyx Hospitals began on the 14th of October, this year. I was a bit late for handing over because I had to search for a decent outfit to wear seeing as I could not tend to patients in jeans and a polo. It was quite the morning work run as I had to return to the store after forgetting to pick up the items I purchased- It was when I got to the hospital gates did I realize my folly, so imagine the long-winded trip back and forth and then back again.
The shift went by smoothly. I got a tour around the premises from the matron(Again, a charming woman) and my two work partners: Nurse F and Nurse U(For privacy and my safety, I'll be using initials when referring to my patients and colleagues). They were much obliged to take a student under their tutelage; with half the week spent answering the nagging questions of "why I was studying nursing?" or my correcting the patients that I was their nurse and not the doctor on duty whenever I walked into their rooms for vitals checking. It was more from the fact that my stature(find synonym)-height, size and receding hairline-made it hard for people to believe I was a male nurse rather than the knowledge that I was just that, a male nurse. I remember the ENT doctor telling me of a trend by male nurses who acquire jobs on rigs and in oil companies and go about answering 'doctor' while on duty. It might be the reason she kept calling me "doc" during the Adeno-tonsillectomy I assisted her in(By assist, I switched on and off the suction machine. That wasn't very doctor-y of me).
PREGNANCIES AND QUARTER-LIFE CRISIS.
A week later, I would come to witness the miracle that is birth. Imagine my excitement by the prospects of finally catching such a delicate procedure, which I could not see during my hospital postings in school because for some unexplainable reason; I always got posted at the medical ward of my school's teaching hospital(DAMN YOU SAMBO). Although I was not allowed to do a vaginal examination(it's basically fingering minus the horniness) because I was not a certified "mid-husband", I did get to perform a fetal heart check on the mother with the device they had. I gotta say, hearing those fast beats as they chug like a moving train was as scary as it was terrific.
The baby came, later the next morning with his umbilical cord around the head(wrung twice). He had a mild case of asphyxiation, which was duly corrected by the able hands of my co-nurses(Nurses F and U). One thing threw me off from the whole experience. Neither mother nor baby cried, at all, except for a few whimpers from the mother's end but that should not have been the case because the woman was on an oxytocin infusion to help with the weak contractions she had which should be enough to make her scream her lungs out. But all we got was a short grunt here, and a restless disposition there. Even the sharp cries of a newborn as the air gets pushed into the lungs for the first time was not heard, probably because of the cord around its neck but still, there were no screams...only blood(I have cancelled the pregnancy from my memory banks).
In the following week, there was another pregnancy which was Cesarean, and I missed it(instant depresun). Both baby and mother were in perfect health, so that's a good thing. Another thing that gave me instant depresun was the age of the mother. She was 23, my age. Here was a lady my age starting a family with her equally young husband, while I was still living in my mother's spare room(although my clothes stay in the place, I can't necessarily call it my room seeing as family relatives tend to displace me from there whenever they spend the night). Her folder read "Occupation: Banker", which meant she was working and judging from the room she stayed in(A private room with a bathroom and wardrobe), her company's HMO(Google it) could afford it. I was happy for her, no doubt. Still, the idea of her already settling down at that age made me question my existence and the direction my life is heading: I am not a graduate nor getting paid and still dependent on others. Not that I need to rush my life, but am I the only one who feels their time move slow?
IM INJECTIONS AND FREAK-OUTS
It's a new week, and I'm back to work after the shift I had for five nights straight(it was boring, no deaths or surgeries. The only "eventful" thing about the shift was my diarrhoea). Coming back I've realized how much I dislike these morning shifts: Waking up early to meet up with handing overs can be stressful and there is also the matter of me wanting to miss out of the hospital's morning prayers(call me devil, I don't care. There's just something about standing among others, singing praises as you try to avoid eye contact by staring at ante-natal posters on the wall).
Morning shifts are also hectic, as in working in the out-patient department; checking vitals, directing patients to consult rooms and laboratories for tests, and administering IM injections(Ah... IM injections). Whenever I give that injection, I get this sinking feeling that I may have injected the medicine into the wrong site. Still, my calculations are always correct: I divide the buttocks(I have seen so many butts these few days) into four quadrants and inject the substance at the farthest point of the upper quadrant, but I still feel like I didn't do it accurately. My only means of knowing that I did it correctly is that the patient neither complains of excessive pain nor starts limping strangely. Plus the fact that the site doesn't bleed out profusely, which gives me peace of mind and I am super calm when injecting that shit like my hands don't shake at all... I have the peaceful mind of a serial killer.
Well, shit, I've written way too much already. Guess I'm going to make this a three-parter(Is that even a thing?). Please tune in next time for more Clinic matters with me, your narrator, Ebube.
PS Is it weird to love the smell of methylated spirit? Like I get a sort of high from it. I'm just saying.
This is nice boo
ReplyDeleteI wish I could work too o ...this year is a mess
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