6-26-08 – Esmeraldas, Ecuador
The other night in minor surg we saw a patient referred to us by the doctor working up front in clinic. We through a chest x-ray up on the light box then called the first doctor in. “Why didn’t you treat the bullet?” He scrambled because from a mile away you could see its outline on the film. “What,” he turned to the patient, “why didn’t you say anything”. We all laughed, patient included, because she had had it for 18 years. Apparently in Esmeraldas you can find bullets in chest x-rays that have nothing to do with the chief complaint.
Today at lunch I met someone whose spoon was stolen. She used a tongue depressor instead.
The other night a woman was slashed. She was carrying her one-year old son who also had a lacerated back. Question 1: who attacks women carrying babies? Another guy walked in with a stray bullet through his lower leg, but he was stable and we were out of beds so I had him sit in a chair. After the baby and his mother were treated, I got around to seeing the guy, but by that time he had a rotten attitude – upset he had to wait. Selfish bastard. We exchanged a few words, then, disgusted by his temperament, I saw someone else instead. He didn’t like this. After the interim patient, I filled out requests for radiographs and wrote the guy some prescriptions, but he didn’t want my help – he shouted something too fast for my understanding and walked away. Recap: because I didn’t like him, I didn’t treat him promptly. Question 2: what does this say about me?
Speaking of people who didn’t want things from me – yesterday I wrote out a request for a rubber tube to put in the bladder of a motorcycle accident patient. The doctor signed it and added a few medications to the list. But the guy in the stock closet didn’t much seem to care that a patient was suffering: “You can’t put two people’s handwriting on one ticket,” he barked – then handed over only the rubber tube. This is not a hospital rule – he just wanted to flex his wimpy-ass muscles and feel important for fifteen seconds. That’s disgusting.
Two women who were raped for three hours came in at 8p. We gave them birth control but didn’t have HIV/AIDS medication, so they sweated the night wondering their fate, waiting for an external clinic to open. I found a bench and sat and thought and hurt – this is also disgusting.
“Everyone talks about the ability to stand blood and gore, to live through tragedy, but the real quality needed is altruism. ... Without it, the job becomes a relentless tour of the worst parts of life. Without some form of altruism, the job is unbearable” - Louis Schillinger. "Blood and guts". New York Times book report 5/25/2008.
The other night in minor surg we saw a patient referred to us by the doctor working up front in clinic. We through a chest x-ray up on the light box then called the first doctor in. “Why didn’t you treat the bullet?” He scrambled because from a mile away you could see its outline on the film. “What,” he turned to the patient, “why didn’t you say anything”. We all laughed, patient included, because she had had it for 18 years. Apparently in Esmeraldas you can find bullets in chest x-rays that have nothing to do with the chief complaint.
Today at lunch I met someone whose spoon was stolen. She used a tongue depressor instead.
The other night a woman was slashed. She was carrying her one-year old son who also had a lacerated back. Question 1: who attacks women carrying babies? Another guy walked in with a stray bullet through his lower leg, but he was stable and we were out of beds so I had him sit in a chair. After the baby and his mother were treated, I got around to seeing the guy, but by that time he had a rotten attitude – upset he had to wait. Selfish bastard. We exchanged a few words, then, disgusted by his temperament, I saw someone else instead. He didn’t like this. After the interim patient, I filled out requests for radiographs and wrote the guy some prescriptions, but he didn’t want my help – he shouted something too fast for my understanding and walked away. Recap: because I didn’t like him, I didn’t treat him promptly. Question 2: what does this say about me?
Speaking of people who didn’t want things from me – yesterday I wrote out a request for a rubber tube to put in the bladder of a motorcycle accident patient. The doctor signed it and added a few medications to the list. But the guy in the stock closet didn’t much seem to care that a patient was suffering: “You can’t put two people’s handwriting on one ticket,” he barked – then handed over only the rubber tube. This is not a hospital rule – he just wanted to flex his wimpy-ass muscles and feel important for fifteen seconds. That’s disgusting.
Two women who were raped for three hours came in at 8p. We gave them birth control but didn’t have HIV/AIDS medication, so they sweated the night wondering their fate, waiting for an external clinic to open. I found a bench and sat and thought and hurt – this is also disgusting.
“Everyone talks about the ability to stand blood and gore, to live through tragedy, but the real quality needed is altruism. ... Without it, the job becomes a relentless tour of the worst parts of life. Without some form of altruism, the job is unbearable” - Louis Schillinger. "Blood and guts". New York Times book report 5/25/2008.
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