Estoy oliendo el yodo.

This week of days in the TICU has drawn to a close. Nothing too difficult. Honestly, our patient’s haven’t been as sick as TICU patients tend to be at times. I’m not going to complain about that; leaves more time to study. So, not complaining, but I will admit that I don’t particularly care for the fact that our patients have not exactly needed us. If I’m not doing anything for my patient, well, I feel rather pointless. No sense in feeling pointless, so I would push to have our patient’s downgraded from ICU setting to the floor setting. One day I came in, the TICU filled up with patients, and we put in for multiple bed requests first thing in the morning. When the Attending entered the TICU shortly after, he stopped me to let me know I had “missed a few transfer recs,” or I had left a few patients without bed requests. He was joking with me of course, but guess I have made a reputation for myself! Don’t worry, always stable. Always safe.

Having been rounding in the ICU for the week, I was able to go to the OR for one of my patients who needed a feeding tube and a tracheostomy. Standing across from my attending on either side of our patient’s neck we made the incision for the tracheostomy. Dissecting down through the layers to clear our path to the trachea we came upon the isthmus of the thyroid gland. There are different ways to go through the isthmus. Sometimes you can just retract it out of the way. Other times, when large, or concerning in appearance you can resect the portion that is in your way and send it for pathology. Or when you find the isthmus to be nice and thin… you can just go right through it, which is what I did on this particular case. Electrocautery in hand, I burned right through the thin band of thyroid tissue, to which my Attending emphatically exclaimed, “ah! The smell of burning thyroid!” May not be as pleasant or comforting as some occupational smells such as a fresh baked pie in a bakery, leather binding in a printing factory, or new rain on the farm. Perhaps just as unique as others such as cleaning solution in a cow barn, old fish at the market or buckets of paint for the walls of a stairwell. But the way he said it, was almost as if he was trying to cover up his pride. Pride at recognizing such a unique smell covered with an icing touch of sarcasm. 

To the smells of burning iodine, Clorox, apple pie and fish, may we all work well and happy.

Much Love.