It is three in the morning, and all is not well; I have had to recuse myself from the floor, after suffering a compassion breakdown. (I hope I’ve used the word recuse in vaguely the right way, as I’m only doing so to try and impress my legal readers; well, one in particular… ;)) Today is changeover day, so all the characters in our ED drama have changed; I wonder if the punters of our catchment area know this, but suspect coincidence.

On the good news front, La Belle File is back; in fact when I was finally able to re-establish voice comms, her first words were: ‘I’m back!’ delivered with some conviction. I’ve been on nights, so joyous re-union has been slightly muted. Work, however continues to provide cortisol raising frustration;

The complaint
Complaints piss me off. I should say that I am in favour of them – people must be able to challenge our decisions and our authority if they feel we have wronged them; and we must be transparent in our practice, and robust in our defence, even of controversial or unpopular decisions. But people who complain when they are ill informed, or who will not let something drop… it is these guys that hack me off. I am currently answering for my actions of a few months ago, largely because someone not connected to the case is trying to dodge the real issue. Clearly I cannot go into detail, but a situation arose in which we had to deal with a particularly difficult patient, and were required to make several decisions for this patient, and implement them against the patients wishes. Further assessment required specialist practitioners, who were duly called and advised the patient be removed to a place of safety; some force was required to do this, and the patients relatives were unable to see the patient for some time thereafter. They clearly felt excessive force had been used, and that the law surrounding management of this kind of patient is archaic.

They have a point.

They wrote to their local representative asking what might be done to bring about reform of the laws governing this sort of situation. Their letter barely mentions the hospital, and is not critical of our treatment. Yet this representative, who I suspect spends more time polishing green leather sofas with her ass than knowing her job, has written to enquire why the patient were not more closely supervised, and why transfer to another facility not enacted earlier. The patient in question was given one-one care at all times; they could not have been more closely supervised; and the transfer did not take place because the other facility did not want the patient, not in the state in which they ran amok in my department. And yet a casual question implies poor practice on our part; and does nothing to address the original question, of what could be done to make the law more palatable.

In truth, part of the problem lies in that there is no gentle way of subduing large, violent aggressive patients, and their restraint will invariably leave them shaken; laws will not change this. Some people cannot be talked down, but relatives will always feel for their own; there is, of course no mention in any complaint of the physical violence visited on us by the patient…

The poor wee fella found at the bottom of the stairs by BBP has had insult heaped onto injury. Any death with 24 hours of admission must be referred to the coroner, and the circumstances of this case mandate an inquiry. Because the patient still lived when I went off shift, I could not contact the coroner, and neither the doc who certified, nor the admitting physician, nor the neurosurgeon who would offer no hope nor the intensivist who passed and pulled the tube would spend 10 minutes on the phone to the coroner to tell him this. An huge round of shoulder shrugging, not my problem, don’t wanna get involved. All that was required was to phone the coroner’s office, and tell them the sad circumstances. I did it; it can’t be that hard, but their indifference has left a family in limbo for a further six days, until I came back on shift.

As for tonight, and my recusal…

I generally try to be empathic, and compassionate to everyone; but as I started this piece, the only patients inn the department were as follows:
Hypoglycaemia – known diabetic, brought on by not eating, and drinking 12 cans lager
Drunk, slightly hysterical following argument with friends (not present in dept)
Drunk, decided to go swimming. Got cold, may have fainted
Drunk, mixed (non-lethal) OD
Not one among ‘em with a proper problem not self inflicted. One ended up punching a staff member, and left with HM constabulary. The rest enjoyed a restful, warm night at the taxpayer’s expense.

The last two nights have been a bit psych, in that we’ve mostly ended up chasing semi naked girls about the dept as they scream at us. One, declared fit for d/c, escaped and was found in a bush, shivering against the thin covering afforded by arseless hospital gowns, with her thong tied around her neck.
Our psych cover seems woefully inadequate. The liason service soldier on, but their primary mission was never intended to be the MH assessment of all and sundry in the ED; and yet we have nowhere else to turn. Why the psych SHO cannot do an on call like every other bugger is beyond me. And woe betide you if you’re over 65. They do have an on call doc, but they don’t get out of bed; at least not to come to the ED

If you have severe aortic valve disease, and undergo surgery to have it replaced, basal atelectesis post op is not unusual; nor is it unheard of for LRTI to develop; but when you return, 12 days later, with that LRTI inadequately treated, and worsening chest pain, breathlessness etc, it seems that your problems no longer concern your surgeon. Post op complications would appear to be either a thing of the past, or something the surgeons are only to keen to farm out to others. If our knifemen are only going to be just that - knifemen, technicians, hernia specialists - then why the fuck should we pay to send them through medical school..?

**Rant ends

Buried Alive In The Blues

Another Monday after nights, another bout of insomnia.

I'm on an education day today, so non-clinical... supposed to be in work anyway, but since I've been awake all night (pacing, mostly) and the wonders of the Internet envelop my house, I've kinda taken an executive decision to stay at home. I imagine I'll get a bollicking for it, but what can ye do?

In fact I'm becoming mildly concerned about my inability to adjust from nights, which seems to be getting worse weekly, but not sure what i can do, without resorting to pills - either sleepers to send me into the arms of Morpheus, or some sort of upper to get me goin' in the morning. I am reluctant to go down this road... so i guess I'll just have to slug it out. Ain't that so?

(Etymology note - I think 'ain't' dates from early 18th Century English, exported to the Americas. I have it in mind that it was used throughout the classes until popularised by e.g Dickens in the 19th Century, and vulgarised...)

The Department continues busy... we move onward, ever onward and upward. BBP has suggested we're getting extra staff, footprint and cash. I'll believe it when I see it. On a personal note, I need to overcome my Resus addiction. My minors experience is suffering. But I can't help it... I am, unashamedly, an adrenaline junkie.

Sometimes, it seems genuinely hard to get out; but I guess that's always the way of addiction. I need to trust the SHOs a bit more.

Achieved highs and lows last week:

Highs

---Having staff ask me for 'second opinions' on my colleagues cases... while it rankles a bit - it is a bit disrespectful - it at least means they trust me, which helps my psyche at a time when I'm feeling like my ability is being called into question.

---Treating a young lad presenting de novo in DKA, and having him give me a sticker to say thanks. (It read 'Please hug me, I've been brave'. No-one hugged me. They knew I hadn't really been brave)

Lows

--- Accidentally squirting ethyl chloride into the eye of one of my SHOs. It's all funny until someone gets hurt... how right they are. Sorry

---Blowing my top in a most childish manner. Shouting at all and sundry ain't cool, and i think I'm lucky enough to have enough credit at the Nurse Bank that they have accepted my apology. Maybe. Sorry, again.

I also had a pretty good run personally. For the record, she ain't in Cleveland. That was just an example, back-linking to a previous post. I do have an old friend in Cleveland, a high-falutin' gas-passer, but fate has seen fit to throw me together with someone a lot closer.

They know who they are, and that's pretty much all I can say, really.

Le silence du p'tit singe.

(Here She Comes) Kitty's Back

Do I Look So Hard

So Impersonal?

Dispassionate? Or Just Unimportant.

When You Turn Me Aside, Disregard My Time

Throw It Away So

Carelessly; Overvalue What You Have

Casually Tell Me How Little I'm Worth...

When We Stop Talking Names;

Once Conditions

Then Organs

Now Only Numbers Pass Between Us.

When We Try

And You Want More

Pushing; Pushing; Pushing.

Inflexible:

You Mock Me

When You Walk Away

Turn Your Back

I Forget

Once We Stood

Shoulder To Shoulder

We Were Family

We Were Doctors Once, And Nurses