Short Story

In this environment, I thrived. I adored the patients I encountered here and was fascinated by listening to the nurses speak. They spoke to each other fast, in their own obscure language. “Is patient x’s blood pressure

I had been instructed to introduce myself to the patients, so I started with the first room and began to work my way down the long and dimly lit hallway. Popping my head into each room, I quickly muttered my name and half of a greeting before rushing over to the next one. Many of the patients in the unit didn’t acknowledge me, and for that, I was grateful. It wasn’t until I had gotten to the last room, in fact, that I was even met with a

“Hey there” John looked over his shoulder at the smiling face of his new coworker. John greeted him as hallway smiled back not wanting to talk since he had woken up at 5:00am that morning. He quickly dashed over to his office and switched on his computer. He thought about the nine years of intensive study that he had to go through. The loud ringing of his pager interrupted his thoughts. He answered a few nurses difficult questions about what medicines to prescribe what to do with a few difficult patients. He placed his phone down a little nervous wondering if he had just killed someone by prescribing the wrong medicine. He grabbed his clipboard, jacket and stethoscope and went to go meet his first patient. “Mrs. Anderson, how are

The purpose of this journal is to reflect on my experience and skills gained during my clinical placement at Ben Taub Hospital. On my first clinical day, I was excited and nervous at the same time. My first placement was in the PREOP/PACU area. I was assigned to help a patient who had been in the PACU area going on 2 days. Normally, once the patient comes from surgery they are only in the PACU area for a short period of time before they are discharged home or given a bed in another area of the hospital. This particular patient still had not received an assignment for a bed. The physicians would make their rounds to come check on him daily. The patient was a 28-year-old Hispanic male, non-English speaking, he had a hemicolectomy. He had a NG tube, urinary Foley catheter, and a wound vac. My preceptor had just clocked in and she needed to check on the patient’s vitals and notes from the previous nurse. Once she introduced me to the patient and explained while I was there, she then asked me to check his vitals. (Vital signs indicate the body’s ability to regulate body temperature, maintain blood flow, and oxygenate body tissues. Vital signs are important indicators of a client’s overall health status (Hogan, 2014). I froze for a quick second. I have practiced taking vitals numerous of times and I knew I could do it correctly. I started with the temperature first, when I was quickly corrected on a major mistake I had made by my preceptor. I HAD FORGOT TO WASH MY HANDS and PUT

While waiting, I yearned for answers; I wanted to know structure of the hospital, the reason for the constant beeping sound, the number of surgeries scheduled, patients that were being treated nearby, and the quickest way to them. Being sly, I would sneak off and try to get a glimpse of an actual chart. After his surgery, my grandfather was quickly escorted to ICU; “ICU, ICU, what could this mean?”

“I’ll have 6 eggs, a big glass of orange juice, a banana, and some oatmeal please” said DeSean “ You’re one crazy kid” said the female bartender at IHop. “Yes ma’am, I might be crazy ,but ready for football this morning” DeSean responded swiftly. The bartender responded almost immediately saying “Damn right, hope you do well this morning, I’ll have that food out real quick honey”. DeSean waited for less than 5 minutes before chowing down on over 1000 calories. He exchanged some words with the bartender and he was off to football.

It was a typical Thursday on CVCU. The day was steady, but nonetheless, busy. The charge nurse aid I would be receiving a patient, post cardiac catheterization laboratory (cath lab) in room nine. I wasn’t long after, indeed I saw the cath lab team approaching with the patient. I met them in the room and I early introduced myself to Mr. E.H. I noticed, immediately, that he seemed indifferent. Meanwhile, we collectively settled him, by placing him on the monitors and assessing his procedure site.

The ICU is about full, practically every bed possessed by some individual sufficiently unfortunate to require one. It wasn't the fluorescent lighting that woke me up, it was increasingly the scent reminiscent of latex gloves and clinical substances. My eyes glimmered open gradually and whatever I could see was white, slowly my eyes centered to the vision of roof tiles and that is the point of which I understood I was in the hospital.

“Of course they aren’t helping,” Adia groaned, slamming the door to Heron’s Hideaway shut. It was our last midnight patrol for the week of camp, and it was supposed to be easy. But how was cleaning an entire building with just the two of us easy?

Working as a scribe in the San Bernardino Emergency Room has provided me with many different types of medical experiences, from seeing gunshot wounds and various lacerations to strokes and ST elevated myocardial infarctions to hypoglycemia and hyperkalemia. Observing the treatment process from triage to disposition has been an exciting experience, in which every patient encounter has only taught me more about the field of medicine and spiked my interests in learning more about the human body. It is truly an amazing experience watching people come in scared and worried, but in the matter of a few hours after various medications, diagnostic studies and procedures they are more comfortable than when they came in. Through this experience, I have

Wrapped in my new blanket, IV still in my vein, my bed was wheeled down the hall into a room I had never seen before. Everything smelled of bleach and alcohol, burning the insides of my nose. Everything around the room was noise to me, for the only thing that stole my attention was the operating table, center stage under countless lights.

It was 2 o’ clock in the morning. The whole ICU and adjacent corridor were eerily silent. The only noise to be heard was the beeping noise coming from the machines. I was sitting with a pharmacology book open in my lap and was trying to figure out how to best memorize the different types of beta receptors when I heard that voice. It was a feeble plea for help coming from a patient lying on one of the ICU beds. I ran over toward the patient who looked at me with his pale yellow eyes, just barely for a second, and then his eyes started to roll upwards. I called the resident immediately who tried very hard to resuscitate the patient, but it was too late. That man fighting from Hepatitis C and liver cirrhosis had already succumbed to death.

The sun glimmered through the treeline, and set slowly, casting a deep orange and pink shadow over the mountains. A soft breeze made the strands of pine dance on their branches ever so slightly. The world was quiet. There were no voices, no distractions. Just the light trickling of a stream not far from the cabin. Just the quiet rustle of the trees in the wind. Sage relished in the silence, clinging to it like a new born cub to its mother.

The rest of the evening to tried to come up with excuses to avoid having to spend much of the night with Sirius Black and his group of horrid friends. You tried everything, you mustered up all of your acting skills and took to the hospital wing, attempting to convince Madame Pomfrey that you were seriously ill; she, of course, saw right through you, and you left the wing feeling defeated and shameful. You even went as far as to provoke Professor McGonagall, hoping that she’d give you detention for the evening, but all you got was a scolding and a 2 foot essay.

Walking out of the examination room I entered a large area the wall lined with beds connected to all sorts of high-tech machinery. I was laid down on a bed that propped me up, something that I can only describe as a recliner chair that is reclined out. To my left was an older woman, no less than 50, whose donation was underway as a foreign machine to myself rocked back and forth while the blood flowed from her arm to the blood bag.