Anyone remember Singles, circa 1992?
I just wanted to say thanks for reading, anyone who reads this.
The first pic is Mazie dressed as John Tyler.
I am currently on my surgery rotation and loving surgery a lot. I have trauma call at Grady tonight, which is where we go in and help out in any way we can with whatever traumas come in overnight. If tonight is busy, I will start Foley catheters, staple scalps, suture lacerations, clean up trash, and scrub in on surgeries. Picking up trash isn't actually my job, but if a big trauma comes in, the trauma bay gets littered with everything under the sun. It turns out that neatness is not an issue when it comes to life-saving. But if I have down time and there are little caps and scraps of stuff to turn an ankle on (as Pop-pop would inevitably caution - my dear grandfather valued his ankles), I like to tidy up before the person with the wide fluffy broom circulates through.
That's the really cool thing about trauma call. You get the privilege of being there at the very moment that it's possible to make a huge difference in someone's life. I, personally, have a teeny role in this process...but I truly feel that every little bit helps. If I am starting a catheter, it frees up someone else with more specialized skills to do the FAST ultrasound or clear someone's C-spine or start an arterial line or whatnot. I have just finished up my week of anesthesia exposure, so I now have a couple of new skills to share: starting IV's and intubating. Likely, I will not get to use these tonight, as someone more experienced will certainly do the job if it's a hairy situation.
On trauma calls, I've seen some stuff I'm not allowed to write about. One thing I can say that won't divulge identities or mess up anything at all is: domestic violence is everywhere. If a man hits (or more creatively injures) a woman, she runs a very high risk of eventually being killed by that man. Just FYI - if you ever have any voice in a situation where domestic violence is involved, be as urgent as you feel it takes to get the job done, i.e., get the victim out of the relationship and away from the abuser. And safe, especially for the first several weeks when he hasn't yet moved on and the risk of retaliation is highest.
And I don't have official tallies, but the people I've seen come in dead or seriously injured from motorcycle wrecks keeps ticking up. Sorry; scooters, too. (Ciao...) So dangerous. I know how fun they are, but physics doesn't play. One should not partake in the fun unless one is truly ready to die or to get rearranged in previously-unforseen ways.
But, honestly, the world is just plain broken. It's a mess. I'm a mess, the world is a mess, and a small or large handful of people in the greater Atlanta area wind up a real mess every single night. That's not all there is, but that's the part of it that I know I'll confront when I go to trauma call. I don't love seeing people who have trauma for the sake of gawking. In other words, I'm not like, "Cool; his femur's poking through the skin!" I do, however, have respect for the pathologies involved. Mostly I like it because for that night, I know I am in the one trauma hub in the greater Atlanta area - the place where I can just briefly step into other peoples' trainwrecks and do a little something to help out. This is one of those times when it's such a privilege to learn.
