Friday, 30 January 2009

Five things I didn’t see at the January payday party.


On the last Thursday of every month, there is a hospital payday party at a certain venue in town. These parties are good just because they tend to generate lads of gossip. Here are five things I definitely did not see at last night’s payday party…

1. A certain consultant become rather friendly with his very attractive female FY2

2. A med reg and ortho reg going toe-to-toe and literally screaming at each other

3. Team Paed’s hilarious “Stayin’ Alive” dance routine

4. One of the (married) nurses swapping spit with one of the house officers (naughty!)

5. A pair of medical students demonstrating that, despite their boasting, they really couldn’t hold their beer.

Thursday, 29 January 2009

It's oh so quiet...


Something weird is happening today. I’m covering the maternity unit and there’s nothing happening. The only woman on the labour ward has just given birth naturally and there’s nobody else expected in. I’ve literally had nothing to do all day. It’s strange.

Not only is it dead quiet here, I’ve just been over to the main hospital and spoken to the on-call team. Emergency theatres have no cases booked and all the patients on critical care are stable. So the on-call team have very little to do either.

This never happens. It’s spooky. I guess that I’m so used to running around like a rabbit on speed that when things do get really quiet, I start to feel tetchy. I’m going to try my best to enjoy it while it lasts…

Monday, 26 January 2009

I ponder...


Remember this post?

Well, I've now been cited in this article in the Student BMJ. Do you think that this counts as a "publication?" Can I put it on my CV?

Friday, 23 January 2009

The weekend starts here!


Woohoo! It's Friday, I've had a half-day, In a few minutes, I'm going to head off to meet up with FashionGirl and we're going to party all weekend! I'm really excited.


For any of you who think that doctors should behave more responsibly, then I'd like to point you in the direction of The Daily Mash who have written a typically well-researched piece about the government's recommended alcohol limits



Beer and wine enthusiasts across the UK stressed that while three to four units may sound reasonable, it's obviously not going to get you trousered, even if you're a lady.


They are now calling on the government to rethink its guidelines or better still just leave them alone and go and bother fat people instead.


Tom Logan, a trainee solicitor from Northampton, said: "It seems to me that they may have confused a safe daily limit with what I like to call 'lunch'."



Have a great weekend everyone, whatever you have planned!

Thursday, 22 January 2009

Anaesthetists "don't like talking to people"


When I was working as a general medical doctor, I had a chat with my consultant at the time about my future career. I had pretty much decided that I wanted to switch specialties and become an anaesthetist, but I still wasn’t sure so I was trying to canvass a few opinions. I remember that we had finished the ward round a bit early and the team were having a coffee before cracking on with the rest of the work. The conversation went a bit like this.

Me: I’m still not really sure about what I want to do later on, but I’m thinking of going into anaesthetics

Consultant: Anaesthetics? Why would you want to do that? Is it because you don’t like talking to people?

Me: Not really, I think it’ll be interesting, it’s hands-on and I like physiology

Consultant: Well, it seems pretty boring if you ask me and most people go into anaesthetics because they don’t like talking to people…

His attitude of “anaesthetists don’t like talking to people because your patients are unconscious” is one that I’ve come across several times.

The thing is – it’s a load of bollocks and the truth is somewhat different. I’m as sociable a person as you’re likely to meet and those who know me would say that, if anything, I talk too much. Regarding my job, yes it’s true that I can’t exactly engage in witty banter once my patient is unconscious, but people forget that I do talk to my patients before giving them their anaesthetic – both in the pre-op visit and once they come down into the anaesthetic room. This talk, is crucially important to what I do, both in terms of reassuring the often very anxious patient, telling them what to expect and getting information so I can plan a safe anaesthetic. I talk to them afterwards in the recovery room and on the wards. If I meet them in an emergency situation e.g. in A&E resus, I talk to them there, I talk to their relatives and friends as well– especially those of the patients on ITU. I talk to my staff colleagues, basically I spend a large part of my working day talking to various people about various aspects of patient care and this sharing of information makes everything much safer.

It also stikes me as odd that the “you don’t like talking to people” claim is never levelled at surgeons, after all, they don’t talk to their patients when they’re operating do they? You’ve also got to remember that the conversations I had with patients as a medical SHO weren’t exactly the most scintillating conversations either. They usually revolved around how far the patient could walk, what colour sputum they were coughing up at the time or what their toilet habits were like. I have to say, I don’t miss the conversations that my former consultants were used to having with their patients.

When things start to go tits-up, as can happen very quickly in anaesthetics, talking is crucial to keeping the patient safe. I’ll you an example. I’ve got to anaesthetise a lady with vaginal bleeding so the surgeons can have a look at what’s causing it and try to stop it. From start to end I talked to:

The Obstetrics & Gynaecology (O&G) reg: to find out what he thought was really going on and how long he expected the operation to take.
The patient: extensively, in my pre-op visit to find out about her health and to let her know about the anaesthetic
The Operating Department Practitioner (ODP): to tell her my anaesthetic plan
The theatre team: to let them know that everyone is ready and we can get the patient down to theatre
The patient, ODP and ward nurse: in the anaesthetic room before induction
The ODP and theatre team: to lead the transfer of thee now unconscious patient from the anaesthetic room to the operating table
The ODP: as I stabilise her blood pressure during the rocky first few minutes of anaesthesia
The O&G reg: to let him know that he can start the surgery
The O&G reg: to ask what’s going on as this is taking much longer than the “five minutes he said it would
The ODP: to ask him to help me get another, large-bore drip into this lady and set up a colloid infusion via a pressure bag
The O&G reg again: to ask him to tell me what the hell is going on because this woman keeps tanking her blood pressure to 50/20, forcing me to use inotropes, something I wasn’t expecting to need on this 43 year old woman. He tells me she won’t stop bleeding.
The theatre runner: to ask her to call my reg and ask him to come help me out
The ODP: to prepare to intubate this woman
The anaesthetic reg: to explain what’s going on so far
The theatre runner: to ask her to ask blood bank to cross match us some blood
The ODP: to get some “flying squad” O negative blood and set up the blood warmer
The O&G reg: to get an update on what’s going on – he’s calling his consultant.
Blood bank: to ask how long the cross matched blood will be
The theatre runner: to ask the anaesthetic consultant to attend
The O&G reg and consultant, the anaesthetic reg and consultant: to discuss the problem (D.I.C.) and decide which drugs and blood products we need to give
The haematology consultant: for coagulation advice
Blood bank: to order FFP, get an update on the cross-match and let him know we are sending an urgent sample down.
The whole the team: as we work to stabilise this woman
The ITU charge nurse: to let her know that we’re going to admit this patient to critical care and request that they get a bed ready
The O&G consultant and anaesthetic consultant: as the bleeding eventually stops, we discuss her further care
The theatre team: as we end the operation and transfer the patient to Intesive Care Unit (ICU)
The ICU charge nurse and staff nurse: I explain the events so far and the plan going forward as we settle her on the ventilator
The ICU charge nurse: as a put in an arterial line
The patient’s husband: he’s already been spoken with by the O&G consultant and ICU charge nurse, but I answer a couple of further questions that he has.
The patient: after we’ve woken her up, I explain the events and how she ended up on the critical care unit following her “quick, five-minute operation.”

My point in all of this is just to say that, contrary to what some believe, anaesthetist don’t hate talking to people. It’s good to talk and, every now and then, talking saves lives.

Tuesday, 20 January 2009

This made me laugh out loud

I had a proper laugh at this one. I used Typealyzer to see what type of personality this blog has and it came up with this:



The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and
beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and
sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead -
they are always in risk of exhausting themselves. The enjoy work that makes them
able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid
conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard
for them in management positions.
I especially like the part about filling my surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colours and sweet smells. A few hours ago, I was sat in a grey and green operating theatre as the surgeon literally sucked poo out of the patient's bowel. I think this test is just a tad wide of the mark!

Monday, 19 January 2009

The Logbook Blues


As an anaesthetist in training, I’m supposed to keep a record of all the patients I give an anaesthetic to. I’m meant to record their age, their physical state, what type of anaesthesia they had, what operation they were having and whether or not I did any additional procedures. This is so my trainers and I can have an idea of what I’m doing and get some handle on how my training is progressing.

The Royal College of Anaesthetist has helpfully produced an electronic database so we can all record (and encrypt) this data. The idea being that at the end of each working day, I come home and enter the data into my electronic logbook.

The problem is, that this is really tedious and I’m a bit lazy, so after a long day’s work, I can almost inevitably find something better to do than update my logbook. The days and weeks roll on and then I have the sudden realisation that I’ve not updated my logbook for several months. I realise that I have SEVERAL HUNDRED operations to enter into my logbook and there’s nothing for it apart from rolling up my sleeves and sitting in front of my computer and typing in all the information into the database. This literally takes days. It’s so depressing and tedious. This is what I spent much of the weekend doing and I still haven’t caught up. It’s really given me the logbook blues.

Every time I have to do it, when I finally get up-to-date, I promise myself that I’ll never do it again and that it’s much easier to spend 20 minutes doing it every day than spending three days doing it every few months.

And then the next day comes and guess what? Suddenly there are several things to do that are more interesting than updating my logbook…