work
sometime i actually enjoy the idea of being on call.
i guess i don't call it on call anymore. it's just work now.
often before working one of my sixteen hour shifts i will have the presence of mind to pack all this stuff ahead of time. first and foremost i prepare a big bag of food. i fill a plastic shopping bag with all of these things i think i might like to eat or drink while at the hospital. i always include a hot drink mix/bag of some sort. i like to think that i'll have a chance to hide away in my little hidey hole, away from all the responsibilties of this place where i'm supposed to be VERY PROFESSIONAL and do something as ridiculously personal as making a beautiful cup of flavored coffee or snacking on a star crunch while skeletonizing a quick poem idea. so yes, i also bring things to read and to write on. and a bunch of toiletries. it's like going on a little business trip, and you know how i do love to travel.
the dynamics of call are funny, especially the 1500 to 0700 shift. most of the time i arrive to relative quiet. i take signout, and then once my colleague leaves, i walk around, multiple laps to make sure i know what i'm doing. i make a list of the tasks i need to do and at what time. i put my lists in my back pocket and set my pager to go off at 2240. then i can set up in the call room. i get out the paraphernalia appropriate for my chosen task o' the day (lately it's been board review), make sure i have a drink, and get started. i don't usually get very far before getting paged. the first page is usually something stupid and trivial, like this baby has a diaper rash can i use butt cream on it. but after that i feel as though something's up and i walk into the nursery. my presence usually triggers a chain reaction of, oh, i'm glad you're here, i wasn't going to call you but... and oh there's this, and what about this, oh me too! so i do a few paperworky things and tie up some loose ends. i do another lap or two just staring at the kids at each bedspace before i leave again.
then i can get back to my personal task. just when things get rolling and i'm studying well or in the middle of a beautiful flow of phrase, i get paged. i hustle (i always hustle at work, people make fun of me for it sometimes) off to save a life.
[knock, knock] "pediatrics," in a suave tone that yet means business. you have to comfort and command authority at the same time. (two knocks because three is too aesthetic, two communicates a sense of urgency, especially if you start opening the door on the second one.) grab a pair of gloves on the way in. try not to be angry that i wasn't called earlier. push the curtain aside and enter with a smile toward the laboring woman at her most vulnerable, in the most physical pain she will ever be, exposed in a most compromising position to a perfect stranger. smile sweetly, while worst-case scenarios dance like sinister sugarplums across the stage in my head. no time for words. to the ohio table! listen to the nurse rattle off what she thinks is important for me to know. ask about the things i actually need to know, in very very hushed tones. try not to be annoyed thinking that i shouldn't have to ask while the rest of my mind thinks suction: bulb, delee 80-100 cm of water; oxygen: mask inflated? check pressures, cpap, bag breaths; airway: laryngoscope, i like the zero blade but the one has its uses, screw that lightbulb in tight tight! so tiny, so hard core! e.t. tube. meconium? CRAP (literally). get the right darn e.t. tube, why don't we have 3.5's here? mec aspirator. why do you fumble with it so awkwardly? wait. wait. wait. wait. cry. cry. cry. come on, cry. CRY! cry? oh good. i half subconsciously do a little wiggly dance of relief to hear that, God, what a great sound. thank God. let's go, rub!
very well, life saved. say something honest but suave and sweet to make it seem like it was nothing because i hate making moms cry. and back to me. wait. get paged. save a life. return. repeat.
at 2240 the pager goes off. there is a slight twinge of anxiety in my chest as i leave the comfortable familiarity of stressful babyland to take on the e.r. i help clean up the crap that my colleague got slammed with and let that poor soul go home. by then it's about 0130, and of course someone else needs to deliver. i go, knowing i'll return for my nightly "nothing is wrong with me but my parents got freaked out" patient. "before i begin, i want to let you know i'm carrying the delivery pager, so if someone needs to be born i may get called away and have to run."
i can't often use the bed to sleep. i use the computer or turn on the stupid little tv and think. i go over the lists. a few times through the night i will burst into the nursery and ask, "is everybody breathing? okay. oh and butt cream for everybody, so you don't have to page me." do a quick lap and walk away. occasionally this process is stalled by a "these parents have some questions they forgot to ask during the day." about what? "oh this and that that was answered this morning or completely doesn't matter." i have nothing to add but i add it anyway, VERY PROFESSIONALLY, convincing rather than informing, closing the door to future irrelevant and unnecessarily anxiety-provoking questions.
(yesterday i arrived to pure chaos instigated by troublemaking triplets. get signout. what signout? walk around. assess. intubate. surf. extubate. assess. intubate. surf. extubate. assess. bless. who's looking sicker? assess. reassure. realize that it's gonna be crappy for a couple hours yet.)
by 0430 i'm starving. i've already eaten all my food. cafeteria is closed. i could sleep i guess. but then i'd feel all funky if i had to do something, and besides five o'clock gases will all come back at 0540. i stay up and watch the clock. i make sure i haven't left any loose ends i'd be ashamed of. i tie up each issue with a pretty little bow. and at 0630 i go get breakfast so i can signout at 0700 and leave.
sometimes all that is null and void. i can arrive to a complete disaster and then work in an all out berserker frenzy from moment of arrival to moment of replacement. that is pure torture, and probably one of the reasons i stay thin. in those situations there is no time to sit, eat, or think about oneself at all. there's barely time to go to the bathroom.
i remember that man at that party who made the ridiculous comment that oh, you're just a pediatrician? now that seems easy. i mean, they're just kids. so simple. what could you need to know? bito and ghu looked at me with these terrified looks on their faces, as if they were afraid i'd erupt and singe them too with my spewing lavastorm of correction. i just kept quiet and faked calm on my face while bito hurriedly said, "nah, dude." i knew if i opened my mouth the tirade would get more and more bitter until i made it personal. he was a personal trainer for a living.
i don't know how to end this, but i just worked a sixteen hour shift so there will be no careful consideration put into concluding gracefully. because now i am at home and i have (thus) put work behind me.
i guess i don't call it on call anymore. it's just work now.
often before working one of my sixteen hour shifts i will have the presence of mind to pack all this stuff ahead of time. first and foremost i prepare a big bag of food. i fill a plastic shopping bag with all of these things i think i might like to eat or drink while at the hospital. i always include a hot drink mix/bag of some sort. i like to think that i'll have a chance to hide away in my little hidey hole, away from all the responsibilties of this place where i'm supposed to be VERY PROFESSIONAL and do something as ridiculously personal as making a beautiful cup of flavored coffee or snacking on a star crunch while skeletonizing a quick poem idea. so yes, i also bring things to read and to write on. and a bunch of toiletries. it's like going on a little business trip, and you know how i do love to travel.
the dynamics of call are funny, especially the 1500 to 0700 shift. most of the time i arrive to relative quiet. i take signout, and then once my colleague leaves, i walk around, multiple laps to make sure i know what i'm doing. i make a list of the tasks i need to do and at what time. i put my lists in my back pocket and set my pager to go off at 2240. then i can set up in the call room. i get out the paraphernalia appropriate for my chosen task o' the day (lately it's been board review), make sure i have a drink, and get started. i don't usually get very far before getting paged. the first page is usually something stupid and trivial, like this baby has a diaper rash can i use butt cream on it. but after that i feel as though something's up and i walk into the nursery. my presence usually triggers a chain reaction of, oh, i'm glad you're here, i wasn't going to call you but... and oh there's this, and what about this, oh me too! so i do a few paperworky things and tie up some loose ends. i do another lap or two just staring at the kids at each bedspace before i leave again.
then i can get back to my personal task. just when things get rolling and i'm studying well or in the middle of a beautiful flow of phrase, i get paged. i hustle (i always hustle at work, people make fun of me for it sometimes) off to save a life.
[knock, knock] "pediatrics," in a suave tone that yet means business. you have to comfort and command authority at the same time. (two knocks because three is too aesthetic, two communicates a sense of urgency, especially if you start opening the door on the second one.) grab a pair of gloves on the way in. try not to be angry that i wasn't called earlier. push the curtain aside and enter with a smile toward the laboring woman at her most vulnerable, in the most physical pain she will ever be, exposed in a most compromising position to a perfect stranger. smile sweetly, while worst-case scenarios dance like sinister sugarplums across the stage in my head. no time for words. to the ohio table! listen to the nurse rattle off what she thinks is important for me to know. ask about the things i actually need to know, in very very hushed tones. try not to be annoyed thinking that i shouldn't have to ask while the rest of my mind thinks suction: bulb, delee 80-100 cm of water; oxygen: mask inflated? check pressures, cpap, bag breaths; airway: laryngoscope, i like the zero blade but the one has its uses, screw that lightbulb in tight tight! so tiny, so hard core! e.t. tube. meconium? CRAP (literally). get the right darn e.t. tube, why don't we have 3.5's here? mec aspirator. why do you fumble with it so awkwardly? wait. wait. wait. wait. cry. cry. cry. come on, cry. CRY! cry? oh good. i half subconsciously do a little wiggly dance of relief to hear that, God, what a great sound. thank God. let's go, rub!
very well, life saved. say something honest but suave and sweet to make it seem like it was nothing because i hate making moms cry. and back to me. wait. get paged. save a life. return. repeat.
at 2240 the pager goes off. there is a slight twinge of anxiety in my chest as i leave the comfortable familiarity of stressful babyland to take on the e.r. i help clean up the crap that my colleague got slammed with and let that poor soul go home. by then it's about 0130, and of course someone else needs to deliver. i go, knowing i'll return for my nightly "nothing is wrong with me but my parents got freaked out" patient. "before i begin, i want to let you know i'm carrying the delivery pager, so if someone needs to be born i may get called away and have to run."
i can't often use the bed to sleep. i use the computer or turn on the stupid little tv and think. i go over the lists. a few times through the night i will burst into the nursery and ask, "is everybody breathing? okay. oh and butt cream for everybody, so you don't have to page me." do a quick lap and walk away. occasionally this process is stalled by a "these parents have some questions they forgot to ask during the day." about what? "oh this and that that was answered this morning or completely doesn't matter." i have nothing to add but i add it anyway, VERY PROFESSIONALLY, convincing rather than informing, closing the door to future irrelevant and unnecessarily anxiety-provoking questions.
(yesterday i arrived to pure chaos instigated by troublemaking triplets. get signout. what signout? walk around. assess. intubate. surf. extubate. assess. intubate. surf. extubate. assess. bless. who's looking sicker? assess. reassure. realize that it's gonna be crappy for a couple hours yet.)
by 0430 i'm starving. i've already eaten all my food. cafeteria is closed. i could sleep i guess. but then i'd feel all funky if i had to do something, and besides five o'clock gases will all come back at 0540. i stay up and watch the clock. i make sure i haven't left any loose ends i'd be ashamed of. i tie up each issue with a pretty little bow. and at 0630 i go get breakfast so i can signout at 0700 and leave.
sometimes all that is null and void. i can arrive to a complete disaster and then work in an all out berserker frenzy from moment of arrival to moment of replacement. that is pure torture, and probably one of the reasons i stay thin. in those situations there is no time to sit, eat, or think about oneself at all. there's barely time to go to the bathroom.
i remember that man at that party who made the ridiculous comment that oh, you're just a pediatrician? now that seems easy. i mean, they're just kids. so simple. what could you need to know? bito and ghu looked at me with these terrified looks on their faces, as if they were afraid i'd erupt and singe them too with my spewing lavastorm of correction. i just kept quiet and faked calm on my face while bito hurriedly said, "nah, dude." i knew if i opened my mouth the tirade would get more and more bitter until i made it personal. he was a personal trainer for a living.
i don't know how to end this, but i just worked a sixteen hour shift so there will be no careful consideration put into concluding gracefully. because now i am at home and i have (thus) put work behind me.
posted by CamoBunny at 08:14
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