Sick
Hail, he croaks.
You know, I've been reading over some of these posts and it''s amazing how you can express yourself clearly and lucidly by typing in at one end and the machine turns it into incomprehensible gibberish at the other and posts it on the net.
Anyhow, don't expect my full eighty IQ points here today because I've got a virus. I was examining a baby and was peering into his mouth with one of those lights and a tongue depressor and the little angel coughed down my throat. So now I have a nose like a tap and eyes like Peter Tosh and I sound like Rod Stewart.
More hideous revelations from my musical canon later on. It's not my fault, my mum played this kind of music to me when I was an impressionable child. I read this study once where you get two groups of pregnant rats and while they are pregnant you feed one group food with garlic in it and the other food with onions in it. You stop before the ratlets are born, and then when the ratlets are old enough to eat solids, you sit them at table in front of a rat smorgasbord, and the rats whose mother ate a lot of garlic while they were in the womb prefer to eat garlic, the rats whose mother ate onions scarf onion.
Similarly, I think "Sympathy for the Devil" is the best song ever written.
Anyway, last night (three PM to about one AM) shift was reasonably run of the mill, except for the man who booked in looking for God. He wasn't actually my patient but the first I knew of him was that he had appeared at the nurses station extremely loud and angry and shouting in heavily accented Italian. I went over to the nurse's station and said "Can I help anyone" and he turned around and was appraently displeased with what he saw, and started advancing towards me. Not running, just a stiff-legged, incredibly tense, extremely angry kind of way, staring and shouting and pointing at me. I'm backing off with my hands in a "don't shoot me, I'm only the piano player" way and security are elsewhere on the premises, and with that spare few percent of my brain I was thinking that if I backed into an obstacle, like a bed or something, and he kept coming, then I was going to have to do something.
I can't bring myself to say hit him, but that's the absolute worst thing that could happen. That's something so horrible, assaulting someone who is not in control of what he does and who has come to you for help, but I tend to imagine the worst and ensure we're covered for that and then go on from there. Every mild twinge in the chest is a massive heart attack until proven otherwise, every headache is a tumour the size of a Moa's egg, and at some level I was thinking if he managed to place a hand on me I was going to have to do something.
I have never been so glad to see the security guards turn up.
What else?
Someone who'd had an endoscopy (where they push a lubricated tube down your gullet to look at your stomach, and maybe fix up an ulcer or snip out a bit of what's ailing you), two days ago and had been having sticky black poo and feeling increasingly crap ever since. So she was bleeding from the gut and she was also on a medication called warfarin, which is rat poison that stops your blood clotting, so she was looking and feeling fairly crap.
Luckily warfarin is one of the drugs whose effects you can reverse, as opposed to, say, aspirin. Anyhow, we had to transfuse her as well and they sent her upstairs.
Plus kid fell over playing soccer, kid dropped big sheet of corrugated iron on leg, man playing football did his leg in, croupy baby, croupy-sounding eleven year old and so on.
Anyway, it's paracetamol and fluids and a nap for me if I want to be fit for judo tonight before night shift.
Told you it wasn't going to be that exciting.
John
You know, I've been reading over some of these posts and it''s amazing how you can express yourself clearly and lucidly by typing in at one end and the machine turns it into incomprehensible gibberish at the other and posts it on the net.
Anyhow, don't expect my full eighty IQ points here today because I've got a virus. I was examining a baby and was peering into his mouth with one of those lights and a tongue depressor and the little angel coughed down my throat. So now I have a nose like a tap and eyes like Peter Tosh and I sound like Rod Stewart.
More hideous revelations from my musical canon later on. It's not my fault, my mum played this kind of music to me when I was an impressionable child. I read this study once where you get two groups of pregnant rats and while they are pregnant you feed one group food with garlic in it and the other food with onions in it. You stop before the ratlets are born, and then when the ratlets are old enough to eat solids, you sit them at table in front of a rat smorgasbord, and the rats whose mother ate a lot of garlic while they were in the womb prefer to eat garlic, the rats whose mother ate onions scarf onion.
Similarly, I think "Sympathy for the Devil" is the best song ever written.
Anyway, last night (three PM to about one AM) shift was reasonably run of the mill, except for the man who booked in looking for God. He wasn't actually my patient but the first I knew of him was that he had appeared at the nurses station extremely loud and angry and shouting in heavily accented Italian. I went over to the nurse's station and said "Can I help anyone" and he turned around and was appraently displeased with what he saw, and started advancing towards me. Not running, just a stiff-legged, incredibly tense, extremely angry kind of way, staring and shouting and pointing at me. I'm backing off with my hands in a "don't shoot me, I'm only the piano player" way and security are elsewhere on the premises, and with that spare few percent of my brain I was thinking that if I backed into an obstacle, like a bed or something, and he kept coming, then I was going to have to do something.
I can't bring myself to say hit him, but that's the absolute worst thing that could happen. That's something so horrible, assaulting someone who is not in control of what he does and who has come to you for help, but I tend to imagine the worst and ensure we're covered for that and then go on from there. Every mild twinge in the chest is a massive heart attack until proven otherwise, every headache is a tumour the size of a Moa's egg, and at some level I was thinking if he managed to place a hand on me I was going to have to do something.
I have never been so glad to see the security guards turn up.
What else?
Someone who'd had an endoscopy (where they push a lubricated tube down your gullet to look at your stomach, and maybe fix up an ulcer or snip out a bit of what's ailing you), two days ago and had been having sticky black poo and feeling increasingly crap ever since. So she was bleeding from the gut and she was also on a medication called warfarin, which is rat poison that stops your blood clotting, so she was looking and feeling fairly crap.
Luckily warfarin is one of the drugs whose effects you can reverse, as opposed to, say, aspirin. Anyhow, we had to transfuse her as well and they sent her upstairs.
Plus kid fell over playing soccer, kid dropped big sheet of corrugated iron on leg, man playing football did his leg in, croupy baby, croupy-sounding eleven year old and so on.
Anyway, it's paracetamol and fluids and a nap for me if I want to be fit for judo tonight before night shift.
Told you it wasn't going to be that exciting.
John
posted by Bronze John at 11:47 AM
1 Comments:
Try some Zinc and some other info on general immune effects of Zinc. Doesn't matter what form except perhaps not elemental.
Post a Comment
<< Home