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If one cigarette chases away that pesky Corona virus will a dozen smokes
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Saturday, May 30, 2020
Is Nicotine an Effective Prophylaxis for COVID19 ?
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Writng on Bed Sheets
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| Spotless white sheets were perfect for bedside note taking |
I'm a diehard aficionado of the esoteric little nuances present in hospital culture. Before I begin writing (if you could call it that,) a Google search is usually in order. If the topic I had in mind fails to show, I have a winner. I googled nurses writing on sheets and up popped, report sheets, hand off sheets, ICU cheat sheets, and brain sheets. Ahh...perfect, nothing what so ever about nurses and doctors physically writing on hospital linen.
Seasoned, well past their prime doctors and nurses scribbled on hospital sheets all the time in vintage hospitals. The usual weapon of choice was a ball point pen, but a fine tipped felt marker would do in a pinch. Pencils simply did not cut it for sheet writing and were usually in short supply. Some physicians are inventive and I have witnessed sheet scribbling done with a broken applicator soaked with Zepharin solution which added an artsy fartsy touch to their scribbling due to it's bright reddish/pink color.
Anesthetists in the OR loved to keep track of things like units of blood or dosages by scribbling hatch marks on the sheet near the patient's head. Procedures calling for an intraoperative position change would frequently throw a monkey wrench into linen record keeping systems. The vital hatch marks could all to easily relocate to an inaccessible position. Another SNAFU was keeping simultaneous tallies such as one for units of blood and the other for ventilator settings and then confusing one recording for the other. This could lead to strained conversations such as, "Those markings are for the units of packed cells and this one over here is for tidal volume...or is it the other way around??"
Orthopedic surgeons were frequent sheet scribblers and left notes for the proper positioning of traction equipment. Before Campbell's Operative Orthopaedics became the dominant textbook, closed reductions with traction ruled the roost. All those weights, slings, and pulleys just called out for sheet side illustration.
Pioneering total hip replacements were affectionately referred to as low friction arthroplasties and required complex post-op nursing care. Hemovac drains required constant attention to maintain patency and Pehr splints to prevent abduction generated lots of twiddling. Putting an octopus to bed would have been small potatoes compared to caring for total hips.
Arthroplasty patients were to stay flat on their backs for 7 days and could not be turned side to side to make a typical occupied bed. The arduous procedure entailed suspending the hapless patient over the bed while making the bed from top to bottom. Many students sought to avoid the linen change ordeal by carefully maintaining the condition of the bottom sheet. Miss Bruiser, my favorite instructor, was always one step ahead of her intrepid students. She would make a tiny mark on the sheet in an unobtrusive spot and then check back to see if the sheet was changed by observing for the absence of her mark. If the mark was observed after the student finished morning care a tongue lashing and demerits were liberally issued.
An unusual sheet writing adventure occurred in the OR just prior to an induction. One of the staples stocked in our break room was canned sardines which were opened by inserting a special key into a slot and unrolling the top of the tin. The discussion among the surgical residents was how to open a can of sardines without the key. A diagram of a sardine can was scribbled on the top sheet covering the patient and the explanation ensued. "The first step is to center a knife over the crease (in the can) and make a fist around the knife. Next strike the top of your fist until it pops open." The patient thought the good doctors were discussing operative technique and let out a shriek of horror. It took several minutes of explanation to restore order and calm the patient. You can never be too careful when patients are awake in the OR!
Orthopedic surgeons were frequent sheet scribblers and left notes for the proper positioning of traction equipment. Before Campbell's Operative Orthopaedics became the dominant textbook, closed reductions with traction ruled the roost. All those weights, slings, and pulleys just called out for sheet side illustration.
Pioneering total hip replacements were affectionately referred to as low friction arthroplasties and required complex post-op nursing care. Hemovac drains required constant attention to maintain patency and Pehr splints to prevent abduction generated lots of twiddling. Putting an octopus to bed would have been small potatoes compared to caring for total hips.
Arthroplasty patients were to stay flat on their backs for 7 days and could not be turned side to side to make a typical occupied bed. The arduous procedure entailed suspending the hapless patient over the bed while making the bed from top to bottom. Many students sought to avoid the linen change ordeal by carefully maintaining the condition of the bottom sheet. Miss Bruiser, my favorite instructor, was always one step ahead of her intrepid students. She would make a tiny mark on the sheet in an unobtrusive spot and then check back to see if the sheet was changed by observing for the absence of her mark. If the mark was observed after the student finished morning care a tongue lashing and demerits were liberally issued.
An unusual sheet writing adventure occurred in the OR just prior to an induction. One of the staples stocked in our break room was canned sardines which were opened by inserting a special key into a slot and unrolling the top of the tin. The discussion among the surgical residents was how to open a can of sardines without the key. A diagram of a sardine can was scribbled on the top sheet covering the patient and the explanation ensued. "The first step is to center a knife over the crease (in the can) and make a fist around the knife. Next strike the top of your fist until it pops open." The patient thought the good doctors were discussing operative technique and let out a shriek of horror. It took several minutes of explanation to restore order and calm the patient. You can never be too careful when patients are awake in the OR!
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