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Authors: Robert Marion
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wrong floor again, and wound up bringing the kid straight to the morgue (at least I knew where that was).
Well, I finally apologized, told her I wouldnât let it happen again, and she let us into the treatment room. There really wasnât much to do for the kid except take a history, do a physical, and write an order for aminophylline [an asthma medication] . Even I could do that! So it only took me about an hour to finish, and then I tried to get up to the lab but I got called back to the emergency room for another admission.
This went on all day. I got one admission after the other from about noon until after seven at nightâsix admissions in all. By that point I had a lot more lab tests to check and finally made it up to the thirteenth floor [the laboratory floor at West Bronx] at about eight. It took me an hour to check all those labs. Then I came down and had to show them to the senior resident and he told me what to do next. So it was about nine oâclock, I had gotten six new patients, I had done most of the scut that had been signed out to me, but I had missed three complete meals, I hadnât even had a chance to pee (it was about then that I felt the top of my bladder hitting my rib cage). And thatâs when all the IVs started falling out.
I donât know what it was, but all of a sudden three nurses came up to me at once and told me that an IV had come out on one of her patients. Three IVs at once! It seemed to be too much of a coincidence. I went to find the senior resident to ask him if it was possible that the nurses were pulling them out to torture me. He said it definitely was a possibility but there was nothing I could really do about it and, no matter what happened or what I was thinking, Iâd better not get into a fight with any of the nurses or my life would be ruined. I told him about what had happened when I had brought up my first patient and he just sighed and shook his head.
I got two more admissions in the middle of the night and more IVâs fell out and there was more scut to do and I didnât get a chance even to lie down but somehow I made it through and nobody died. So I guess, all in all, Iâd have to say it was a successful night. My only problem is, I donât ever want to be on call again!
Well, after a night like that, at least today was pretty good. I met our teamâs senior resident, and he seems great. His name is Eric Keyes and heâs got a weird sense of humor. Then I met our attending, Alan Morris, whoâs director of pediatrics at West Bronx. Heâs very serious and kind of stiff, but he also knows a lot and Iâve heard heâs great.
I didnât get out tonight until after nine. I was trying to get my work done, but I kept getting lost around the hospital. Iâm really hopeless. Iâm going to have to get better organized.
Saturday, July 6, 1985
I am definitely on the chief residentsâ hit list. Iâve been on 6A for a week now, and everything seems to have settled down. Iâve finally figured out where everything is; I know where the admission forms are kept and where the lab slips are stored. Iâve found the ER three straight times without getting lost. I liked the people I was working with. I even made up with the nurses; I brought them a box of cookies on Tuesday, and amazingly, no IVs fell out when I was on call Tuesday night. Everything was going fine and then, yesterday, just when I was really beginning to feel comfortable, one of the chief residents came up to me and said theyâd decided to transfer me to the Childrenâs ward at Mount Scopus. I told her I didnât want to go, that I was having a really good time on 6A. She said she was sorry but they were a body short on Childrenâs and there was an extra person on 6A that month (because we had a subintern) and there was nobody else who could be pulled. I argued a little more, but I could see there was no way I was going to
Well, I finally apologized, told her I wouldnât let it happen again, and she let us into the treatment room. There really wasnât much to do for the kid except take a history, do a physical, and write an order for aminophylline [an asthma medication] . Even I could do that! So it only took me about an hour to finish, and then I tried to get up to the lab but I got called back to the emergency room for another admission.
This went on all day. I got one admission after the other from about noon until after seven at nightâsix admissions in all. By that point I had a lot more lab tests to check and finally made it up to the thirteenth floor [the laboratory floor at West Bronx] at about eight. It took me an hour to check all those labs. Then I came down and had to show them to the senior resident and he told me what to do next. So it was about nine oâclock, I had gotten six new patients, I had done most of the scut that had been signed out to me, but I had missed three complete meals, I hadnât even had a chance to pee (it was about then that I felt the top of my bladder hitting my rib cage). And thatâs when all the IVs started falling out.
I donât know what it was, but all of a sudden three nurses came up to me at once and told me that an IV had come out on one of her patients. Three IVs at once! It seemed to be too much of a coincidence. I went to find the senior resident to ask him if it was possible that the nurses were pulling them out to torture me. He said it definitely was a possibility but there was nothing I could really do about it and, no matter what happened or what I was thinking, Iâd better not get into a fight with any of the nurses or my life would be ruined. I told him about what had happened when I had brought up my first patient and he just sighed and shook his head.
I got two more admissions in the middle of the night and more IVâs fell out and there was more scut to do and I didnât get a chance even to lie down but somehow I made it through and nobody died. So I guess, all in all, Iâd have to say it was a successful night. My only problem is, I donât ever want to be on call again!
Well, after a night like that, at least today was pretty good. I met our teamâs senior resident, and he seems great. His name is Eric Keyes and heâs got a weird sense of humor. Then I met our attending, Alan Morris, whoâs director of pediatrics at West Bronx. Heâs very serious and kind of stiff, but he also knows a lot and Iâve heard heâs great.
I didnât get out tonight until after nine. I was trying to get my work done, but I kept getting lost around the hospital. Iâm really hopeless. Iâm going to have to get better organized.
Saturday, July 6, 1985
I am definitely on the chief residentsâ hit list. Iâve been on 6A for a week now, and everything seems to have settled down. Iâve finally figured out where everything is; I know where the admission forms are kept and where the lab slips are stored. Iâve found the ER three straight times without getting lost. I liked the people I was working with. I even made up with the nurses; I brought them a box of cookies on Tuesday, and amazingly, no IVs fell out when I was on call Tuesday night. Everything was going fine and then, yesterday, just when I was really beginning to feel comfortable, one of the chief residents came up to me and said theyâd decided to transfer me to the Childrenâs ward at Mount Scopus. I told her I didnât want to go, that I was having a really good time on 6A. She said she was sorry but they were a body short on Childrenâs and there was an extra person on 6A that month (because we had a subintern) and there was nobody else who could be pulled. I argued a little more, but I could see there was no way I was going to
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