--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My name is Lydia Bunker and I'm a third year medical student at NYMC. I'm from the suburbs of Boston and I've always wanted to be a doctor.
Last night, my fellow classmates and
I were working with the on-call trauma team when we got the page for a Level 1
motor vehicle accident. Within minutes the ambulance pulled up, the ER doors
opened, and the prior calm of the trauma bay was shattered. The tall bulky
young man on the stretcher looked to be beyond humanly help, but nevertheless
two dozen people sprung into action around him, each with a look of extreme
focus and determination to perform his or her role perfectly. Suddenly he
regained a pulse and our interventions seemed less futile. There was a chance
he could live, and that possibility lifted the feeling of dread I realized had
enveloped me.
I wanted so badly to help with the
resuscitation, but was afraid of getting in the way of the expert staff who
were doing the real work of saving this young man's life. So I hovered on the
margins of the crowded room, ready to jump at the first call for assistance.
Anything - from doing chest compressions to simply offering a timely piece of
tape. What struck me most was the thought of how we must have looked from
above. Dizzying motion and cacophonous noise.
Miraculously, the patient
stabilized, unknowingly advancing himself to the next step in the algorithm of
trauma care. Almost as if forgetting that this young man had been essentially
deceased an hour earlier, preparations started being made for the trip up to
Interventional Radiology. We left the trauma bay strewn with empty plastic
packets and stained gowns. The litterbug police in me thought absentmidedly
about picking up a discarded syringe cap on the way out. Such an absurd thought
when a life was on the line.
Over the next few hours, the
resident and I occasionally left our trauma patient to attend to consultations
elsewhere in the hospital. It was hard not to compare cases. A little kid with
a bellyache seemed of such minor importance. Yet to him and his father, there
was nothing more important that knowing whether he could go home or not. The
teenager in critical condition upstairs meant nothing to them. It struck me
that in medicine, you really can't think in "relatives". Each
person's problem is uniquely important to them and we as physicians are
challenged to adjust our delivery of care accordingly.
Later, back upstairs, we huddled
around glowing screens in the CT control room, waiting for the next layer of
digital information and keeping vigil for our patient. I watched the tired eyes
of the attending surgeon as he scrolled through the images, up and down, up and
down. I could see him envisioning the upcoming surgery, choreographing a plan
of action, weighing benefits and risks.
The students were dismissed before
our patient went into surgery, leaving the attending and residents to complete
the work they have been primed to do. I drove home as the sun rose, wondering
how they had the mental and physical strength to carry on through exhaustion. I
hope that someday I'll have the knowledge and stamina to do the same, to stop
at nothing for my patients. That's why we work so hard in medical school, why
we spend long hours in the hospital, why we practice our skills at every
opportunity- so that when the time comes, we will be ready.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My
name is Andrea, I am a medical student and this is my first surgery rotation
ever. I have dreamt of being a surgeon for a very long time. The adrenaline of
the job and the direct impact on patients are two of the reasons I am so
attracted to this specialty. Funny enough both of these qualities came into
play last night. Last night we attended to a level 1 trauma which is the most
serious type of injury that requires immediate medical attention. Our patient
came in unconscious and in cardiac arrest. All of a sudden the adrenaline rush
that I had been so excited to feel turned into a feeling of nervousness when I
quickly realized every move we made could be the patient's last chance to live.
The patient's condition waxed and waned throughout the night and as each hour
passed the trauma team worked harder and harder to keep him alive. This
experience made me realize the immense impact that the medical team has on
these emergency situations. I specially realized that the role of the surgeon
is not only to cut, but their role is have the knowledge and experience to
attend any situation. The most important lesson that I have taken away from
last night and from my experience with the trauma team is that the adrenaline
and spontaneity of the job do not compare to the satisfaction of being prepared
with the knowledge and compassion to take on any situation and go home each day
feeling that you did everything in your power to help someone's loved one.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------My name is Nathan Carberry. I am a third year medical student on my second week of my surgical rotation. I came to medical school because I wanted to be a source of healing for people in their most desperate of circumstances. In the years of training and dozens of exams that it takes to finally reach a position of utility in the medical world, I often find myself distanced from this primary directive. However, I feel closer after last night. I found myself as a member of a team for a level one trauma that received a young man who was facing darkness – no breaths, no heartbeats, no thoughts. The setting was deadly serious and the staff as solemn as a funeral, and I was in a terrifying position to help as the patient received compressions, chest tubes, and central lines. I watched as the man regained his own electrical rhythm and soon after vitality to his face. By the end of the long night, the young man had his life again and the parents their son. Very generously, the trauma team also gave me back my direction.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Much Love.
No comments:
Post a Comment