Tales: part 2 of 3 (& 3 of 3)

I know exactly what you're thinking.

OK, maybe I don't know what you're thinking. =P But, you haven't forgotten me already... have you? I certainly haven't forgotten you guys (even though the delay in my posts speak otherwise).

To make it up to you (yet again)... here's a double dose!

I thought these two cartoons were funny. I can imagine myself in a situation like the surgeon in the first one! =D Click on the images to enlarge!

Here goes:

Tale 2)
The next experience is just a tad similar to the first... I was on my way to a secondary school to do a physiotherapy experiments roadshow, as a part of the Student Ambassador work that I do. I was with a colleague, a third year medical student (who I will refer to as Smiley as of now), on the busy Victoria line.
The funny thing was, we had left Uni late for work and as if that wasn't enough, the train was held still in the middle of a tunnel due to a problem at the next station. After about 10 to 15 minutes of waiting, a bunch of Londoners began to step backwards in our aisle, forming a small clearing in the center...

I then heard a lady ask some passengers if they could offer their seats to let someone sit down. A tall, big built man, wearing a long brown jacket, stumbled to take the seat. He looked very distressed and was clearly having a lot of difficulty breathing.

I nudged Smiley, suggesting to her that we should go over and see what we can do to help. His eyes were closed and he leant his head back on the window as he struggled to breathe. I tapped him on the shoulder and said something like, "Sir, we're medical students, is it OK if we take your pulse?"

Here's the part where I goof up - and remember I'm in my second year of medical school now - I looked at the gentleman's hand, then turned to Smiley and exclaimed something along the lines of "Come quick, his hands are yellow!". Indeed, his hands were yellow (probably jaundice), but I didn't have to announce it to the world! I realised what a fool I was a split second later. The poor guy was probably too shattered to notice. Nevertheless, it was a childish thing to do (I won't do it again Miss, I promise!).

Anyway, while Smiley took the gentleman's pulse and let me know that it was normal, I loosened his tie and shirt collar. I think I told him to take long deep breaths and then gave him some water to drink.

We watched him for a while and then asked him if he wanted us to get off at the next stop with him and call an ambulance. He declined, but thanked us for our help and said he was getting off soon. He did. Smiley was proud of me (I still don't know why) and was boasting away about our strange train journey to the rest of our colleagues. We were half an hour late, but at least we had a story to tell.

Tale 3)
I'd like to end with a story that I'm not particularly proud of. It was just one of those days I guess. Imagine lying on the cold floor of an operation theatre with your legs being held in the air by a fellow medic. You weren't expecting that now were you?! How did I get into that state do I hear you ask? Let me explain...

It was day 2 of my clinical attachment. I was in Maxillofacial surgery and today I was going in early to be in theatres. I planned to meet my attachment partner early outside a cafe in Uni, so we could make our way there together. Guess what? I was rushing so much in the morning, I just had enough time to grab a few dates and take a quick gulp of milk.

So, we get ourselves scrubbed in and walk over to the surgeon and the scrub nurses who had already started the procedure. Man, was I disappointed. All the surgeon was doing, was removing a mole (or something like that) from the patient's upper lip. It was going to be a relatively short and easy operation.

Whilst watching the careful incision of skin, bright red blood slowly trickle out and be mopped up with cotton, I noticed that something wasn't right. I felt light-headed. A little nauseated and really cold. Soon it was as if the whole room was spinning. I couldn't hear the music or the chatter of the nurses in the background any more. The registrar taking charge of the surgical intruments turned to look at me. She wore a mask, but I could tell she was asking me if I was OK. Before I could answer, everything just blurred out.

The next thing I know, I'm on the floor with my legs in the air and a blanket over me. I tried to get up but they told me to rest for a while. I let them know though, as I lay there, that I hadn't fainted because of the blood, as I had seen many gruesome operations in the past. They asked me if I had eaten breakfast and BINGO! they had found the problem. A scrub nurse took a sweet out of her pocket and gave it to me, "Here take this," she said with a smile, "You need sugar." They were all so nice and understanding, even the consultant! He told us to go have a break and come back after we've eaten something.

I walked out of there feeling SUPER embarrassed, but I felt some reassurance after the stories my partner told me over a baguette.

Note to self: ALWAYS eat a relatively big breakfast when going into clinics or surgery for a whole day. As the oldies say: eat breakfast like a King, eat lunch like a Lord and dinner like a peasant.

Well, let me know if there's anything in particular that you want me to write about or if you have any questions for me. =) Until next time... adios mis amigos!