Easy Life

It can be a passing comment. Or the answer to a question.

But medicine can break your heart, or crack it just a little. And it isn't always the big, dramatic moments. Sometimes a patient says something to me that is such an unbelievably loaded statement, such a deep and unguarded truth about who they are, that I feel both weighed down by it's burden and lifted up by the privilege of hearing it.

---

"What does her name mean?"

"It means, easy". 

I chuckle a little and smile. The woman speaking to me has perfect, chocolate colored skin. Her hair is wrapped in a regal looking, multicolored scarf. Her cheekbones are high. Her eyes see that I don't understand.

"It means, easy life. My other three children were born in refugee camps in Kenya. She was born in a hospital in Canada. Compared to the rest of us, she will have an easy life." 

Now I understand, but really have no idea.

---

His right rotator cuff and surrounding musculature was so badly torn one day at work that the orthopedic surgeon stated in his letter that he "abandoned the procedure" when the first repair was attempted. As the patient spoke to me I saw dozens of deep, linear, pale scars on his left forearm, the kind of scars that you get when you cut yourself deep enough to draw blood but not deep enough to bleed to death.

The patient told me about the numbness in his fingertips and the ache in his arm. About the surgical waiting list. I asked if he was right or left handed.

"I am right handed. Well, actually, I was left handed. But I went to a residential school and they forced me to write with my right hand. They didn't use very nice techniques to do so. They wouldn't let anybody be different in any way. Same hair, same clothes. They wouldn't let me use my left hand. So now I am right handed...I have a granddaughter. She is left handed. She gets to stay that way."

Worth It

Things are picking up speed here in the final push to the finish. Suddenly a hundred things are pulling for my attention and I'm remembering the nit-pickiness involved in extricating oneself from one country and moving to another. Annoying things like transferring electrical bills to a different name, showing people the apartment, answering questions about my car to prospective buyers, pawning possessions, cancelling bank accounts and returning internet modems.  Time feels warped in that it seems like an eternity until I am back in Canada, yet there's not enough time to complete all the extracting tasks, study for finals, feed / clothe / wash myself, put petrol in the car from time to time, sleep, and possibly exercise when a window of time and weather presents itself.

Yesterday I was studying with some friends when I realized that we had spent the last 20 minutes discussing which brand of under-eye concealer hides dark circles the best (this may seem like normal conversation to some women but these particular ladies are *not* the make-up discussing types).  This was shortly after we screened each other for depression upon discovering that 'generalized anxiety disorder', 'panic disorder' and 'depression' criteria were starting to hit a little too close to home. We stopped studying psychiatry at that point and moved quickly to cardiology where we all felt slightly safer territory existed.

I woke up a few days ago with a burst blood vessel in my left eye which has definitely hitched up the haggard appearance a couple of notches. I am told that REM sleep can cause blood vessels to burst. Fantastic. This on the heels of 3 straight days of waking up not to an alarm but to the sound of my own teeth, grinding. On the upside I suppose that my face is getting exercise while I am sleeping so...win?

But it's not all cereal for dinner and fitful sleeps.

Today I received a card in the mail from one of my maternity patients. She had been one of those women who labored in such a way that I was in complete awe. I am pretty sure that if (and that is a big IF) I ever have a child I will be the craziest, drug-seeking, wild-eyed, foul-mouthed, sweaty, crying mess. She was this calm, focused, sweet, gracious lady throughout her (analgesic-free!) labor until complications resulted in an emergency c-section. For the duration of our long night together she used hypno-birthing and relaxation techniques to stay calm and work through the contractions. It was an amazing thing to see.

In her card she included the hypno-birthing CD along with a photo of her and her now 5 month old daughter, on holiday in Paris. It was a lovely gesture and a beautiful sentiment. My favorite line from the card being, "I will always have the most amazing memories of my labour...remembering yourself so close in my heart when I think of the wonderful team we had together on that night".

During a week (month? year?) when I have often asked myself if all of this is worth it, I receive this card. What a privileged and beautiful place to occupy in a strangers heart: the place that holds the memory of their child's birth.

Knowing something like that makes up for every single stressful hour. It makes up for being the person who breaks bad news, or the person who has to scavenge for food in the day ward after being in the hospital for 20 hours without a meal break. It really does.

It makes all of this worth it.

6 Minutes

So in case you didn't know, it is World Kidney Day today! I was at our local shopping mall with a gang of retired nurses, fellow medical students, renal nurses, and the renal pharmacist, giving out information and checking blood pressures and blood sugars.

We were MAD busy all day with a steady queue of feisty Irish grannies (mostly) and the odd Irishman who had been dragged there by his wife. It was actually a really fun day but the highlight for me was when a woman standing there with a pram said as I went by, "Hey! I know you!" I looked at her and scanned my mental files for her face. "Er....." She said, "you were there in the maternity hospital when I had my son! Remember me?"

I felt terrible because I couldn't place her (and I am usually great with faces). She said, "Remember? Six minutes??" Then I remembered. YES! I had even written about her on the blog! She was the one that had gone shooting by in the wheelchair panting while the midwife yelled at her not to push yet.

Of course I remembered her. I told her if I'd seen a side profile with her hair blowing behind her I would have recognized her right away. We had a nice visit and I had a chance to see her gorgeous blue eyed chubby boy, grinning away at us. So delightful.

I love my job!

Have you hugged your kidneys yet today?

I (Heart) Rural Medicine

In the last 48h have included having the opportunity to:

-catch a baby
-cut a piece of glass out of someone's face (and then stitch them up afterward)
-surgically assist with fusing toes, replacing hips, replacing knees
-perform a D&C
-assist with a hysterectomy
-sew up knife wounds
-assess / treat / discharge about 75 emergency patients
-learn how to insert an IUD

Despite the exceedingly damp climate my hands are cracking from so much handwashing, I'm surviving solely on t.v. dinners and instant soups, clean underwear is becoming a scarce commodity, and I've spent every day (except one) in the hospital since my arrival. And I couldn't be happier.

My days are so full and varied, with such fantastic teaching from the docs here. It's hard to sleep at night, completely wired and excited by each day's events. I feel so fortunate to be here. I'm starting to believe that saying about how "there are teaching hospitals and then there are learning hospitals". Say what you will about rural medicine...but my experience is that people working in remote areas have half the egos and double the desire to teach.

I've been spending a lot of my retractor-holding and trying-to-sleep time thinking about the (soon arriving) residency application process. Today I truly felt like a few things have started to crystallize in my mind about what I want to pursue...

As always it is a work in progress, but I think that will have to be a post for another day.

In the meantime, check out my new O.R clogs while I try to get some well deserved sleep.

Yes, yes I did.

First Ultrasound!

Bet that got your attention!

Yes, last night I had the opportunity to do my first ultrasound on a pregnant woman. Can I just state for the record that there are many concepts in medicine that fascinate and perplex me, not to mention the endless list of interesting presentations and procedures. But apparently there is one thing that turns me into a giddy, effusive fool: prenatal ultrasound.

I trundled down to the emergency department last night after my flatmate (and ER nurse) called me in to see some good cases. The doc who was working knows me well so he was happy to have me seeing and working up patients. Early on in the shift a pregnant woman presented with some minor bleeding so he wheeled in the ultrasound machine, flicked off the lights and handed me the transducer.

At first all I could see was fuzzy blobs and fluid and then lo! A vertebral column appears in the darkness! And then I saw the heart, its tiny chambers pumping away. I practically jumped up and down, Look! Look at the heart! Hey, there is a femur, wow! The baby is moving his, ah...or her hands! That is amazing!! 

So maybe I should have played it slightly more cool, but I couldn't help myself. It is quite something to look at a nearly flat and unremarkable belly and then suddenly be given a glimpse into a hidden world that houses a kicking, twirling, fist-pumping little being.

I spent the next portion of the evening smiling to myself as I stitched up wounds and listened to heart sounds.

The little beating heart and those dancing legs were a delightful reminder that there are also joys in medicine, even in the emergency department on a Friday night. 

Thank you, little one. I needed that.

A little bigger but you get the idea, image from here.

OB or not OB?

We have been up to our eyeballs in pelvic floor muscles lately as our last few cases have been covering pregnancy, babies, ambiguous genitalia, labor and delivery. 

Now normally I am not a fan about learning the differences between the somatic, autonomic, and visceral nerve supply to muscles, but I have to admit, knowing the practical applications for managing labor pain has made this memorization a bit more interesting. I am sure it is because I love procedural skills and can't wait to do my first nerve block, epidural, lumbar puncture, and perineal repair. I started thinking about all the hands on work that OB/GYN's do and then having thoughts that were alien to me until now ..."obstetrics? maybe?"

Truthfully, back in the days when I was an annoyingly-militant-vegan-self-righteous-naive-hippie I seriously considered midwifery (not to say that midwives are those things, I am just elaborating on a phase I went through in my early twenties). I even took my doula training and looked into various programs across the country in midwifery. The only thing that really held me back from pursing this career was the fact that Canada has some ridiculously archaic and paternalistic conservative attitudes regarding who ought to be bringing babies into the world. Depending on what province you live in it can be a seriously uphill battle to create a career for yourself as a midwife--that is, no hospital privileges, being shut out by the medical community, lacking public subsidies, and having to conduct only home births without OB back-up. I just wasn't up for the challenge, I guess. 

Fast forward to medical school where I continued to reject the Western approach to birth, until very recently.

We had an OB/GYN lecture us this week. She was Irish but had spent 10 years specializing in the US in high risk delivery and maternal/fetal medicine. Her lecture was delivered in a soft spoken but direct and powerful way. About half way through she stopped on the slide shown to the left, and said,

"I have always wanted to be a part of this event in people's lives. Even when it is cold, dark, and in the middle of the night I love to get up and head to the hospital knowing that this is what I get to be involved in. When the babies start looking the same and I am not thrilled to be there, I am going to quit. But right now, I feel nothing but privilege for being invited to take part in this pivotal moment in people's lives".

She apologized for how hokey it sounded but I felt that it was quite lovely, to hear someone speak so passionately and honestly about their career choice. I suppose it is what we are all striving for when we choose our future specialty, what are we passionate about? Am I going to love living in the O.R, or intubating patients in a helicopter, or prescribing chemotherapy regimes? It is so hard to know at this stage having only seen as sliver of the health care system. But when you hear someone speak from the heart, and they clearly do love their job, it makes you wonder...could I love constantly being sprayed with amniotic fluid and having only female patients for the rest of my life?

Maybe!

OB/GYN Pros:                                                                     OB/GYN Cons:
-lots of healthy patients                                                          -on call, forever and ever, amen
-plenty of hands-on procedures                                              -bodily fluid exposure extravaganza
-O.R from time to time                                                           -bad outcomes are very bad
-emergency situations*                                                           -only female pts
-many good outcomes                                                             -continuity of care
-continuity of care                                                                   -highly litigious
-many happy/excited patients                                                 -crazy women with 5 page birth plans
-immediate results                                                                  -having patient load
-the whole 'miracle of birth' thing                                          -the training

If nothing else, I am trying to keep my mind open to the possibility of areas that I hadn't considered. I know how most medical students start rocking in the fetal position (pun intended) when you mention their OB/GYN rotation but...who knows? Maybe I will be one of the lucky ones and will actually enjoy labor and delivery!

Or maybe I'll just end up with countless pages of blog fodder.

Either way, win!

*I know that sounds twisted...but I am wired to enjoy emergencies for some reason. I blame my mother for not breast feeding me long enough. (Hi Mom!) 


   

Moving is Not

Watching the father-of-the-baby texting during the vacuum extraction of his child.

Really? Texting?

More proof that the end of civilization is near.