Caring for humans and creatures, writing about it all
Glasgow Royal Infirmary, 1988, a drunk lad pinned down by police and porters, “get tae fk, get aff me ya bastards!” face slashed (bottle/knife?) skin flapping, blood spray up the curtains, on the docs white coat. “Keep still!!”
My job, apply pressure (try not to get stitched to mental boy in the process) fingers scarily close to needle, thick black silk, no plastic surgeon, no operating theatre. Finally, the doc finished, another ‘Glasgow kiss’ done.
Continue reading “The Night Shift”
We take modern surgery for granted. Anaesthetists safely render us unconscious, surgeons make deft incisions, cauterise, snip, scrape, biopsy, repair then we wake without remembering a thing. A miracle of modern medicine.
Not a miracle of course but the result of many highly qualified individuals coming together, an array of pharmaceuticals, specialized equipment and instruments
I often work in a women’s operating theatre prepping them for surgery, minor, major or life-saving specific to their female sex.
In this theatre, babies are born by caesarean, haemorrhaging is stopped, prolapsing organs replaced, cancers removed, contraceptive devices placed, pregnancies ended, tiny fragments of tissue gently removed after miscarriage
Our job in admissions is to make women feel safe, respected and cared for, give them our full attention, instill confidence.
We see women across the spectrum
Elderly, Girls with mature bodies, Indigenous, Neurodivergent, (aspergers, autism, dyspraxia) Disabled physically or intellectually, With mental illness, With history of sexual abuse and resulting PTSD, With gender dysphoria, Refugees, Non – English Speaking.
All humans, all worthy of dignity, respect and equal healthcare. Negative stereotyping is deadly. Nurses know this. We don’t assume anything.
Quiet hijab wearing woman might be confident, articulate, questioning everything
Exquisitely dressed woman with the frosty demeanour and clipped communication style may be on the verge of a panic attack, just holding it all together
The woman with english as second language, relaxed in our presence, reveals a significant health issue, till now untold. Surgery is delayed.
Vague , delightful elderly woman may not understand exactly what’s about to happen, surgery can’t go ahead without appropriate consent
The next elderly woman spirited, spritely, sharp as a tack, gives accurate answers and cheek!
Shouty angry woman might just be terrified, missing her usual self medicating drugs, anger turning to tears
Woman clasping emotional support teddy, own pillow , headphones, eye mask and fidget spinner is autistic with sensory issues.
We accomodate, we manage, advocate, gate-keep, check lists, mitigate risk, tend fragile mental health, keep everyone safe. Nothing surprises us, humans are complex
Questions, questions, so many questions
Why are you here? What surgery are you expecting ? When did you last eat? Did you take any drugs today? Do you need any drugs? Any jewellery on your body, any sneaky piercings?
Some women are scared, facing a lengthy surgery for cancer, pre-chemotherapy.
Some are having minor surgery, seem glad of the anaesthetic escape, from the relentless parenting of small children
Some mortified, hating the need for surgery in their most intimate parts
Some barely conscious, rushed through from emergency, actively bleeding, blood drip, drip, dripping into a vein
We swoop, urgency, speed, focus, No words needed
Many heartbroken having miscarried a pregnancy, still bleeding, need a curette
Some having an abortion, feel shame , embarrassed, many are not, aware of their right to reproductive autonomy, no matter the opinion of others.
She’s been raped, maybe a child herself, abused by a family member, her life a train wreck, she’s vulnerable, she is septic, she is bleeding, at risk of dying if the pregnancy implanted in her fallopian tube ruptures.
She is beyond heartbroken, devastated, carrying a baby with abnormalities who won’t survive, has made the brave decision to end the pregnancy
Can you even begin to put yourself in her shoes?
No matter your feelings, thoughts, opinions, this decision is never taken lightly, is frankly no one else’s business, should not be up for public debate , certainly not by old white male politicians of the patriarchy. Photos of the Supreme Court judges in the USA abhorrent, make my blood boil
The idea of a woman not being able to have this safe procedure in a hospital is unthinkable, medieval.
In my hospital, in this theatre if you need us, you’ll be in safe hands.
Hope we don’t see you anytime soon
Lindsey Crossan. Registered Nurse/Midwife
Recently had the delightful task in the postnatal ward of weighing the newborn babies going home
Wheeling them to the scales one at a time in fish bowl hospital cots
Quickly, gently, wrangling them out of clothes and nappy
Talking to them , shushing them, apologising for ma cold hands
Placing them atop the scales on the blanket nest, tiny bums in the air, so cute!
Just as quick, dress em up again, straight back to mum’s arms
Next day a shift in emergency, seeing the polar opposite example of human
Continue reading “Another Day At The Office”The day I had the accident it was heaving down with rain. I was heading to the GP with my youngest lad to see if he needed antibiotics for a painful ear.
Driving uphill on a familiar straight stretch of road, down through winding rainforest, a route i’d taken hundreds of times before, was very comfortable with.
That complacency was my downfall
Continue reading “Chapter 18. An Accident”Nurses learn to navigate the back and forth between the world of hospital and the world of everyday norms, one minute dealing with intense human vulnerability the next heading home to family, to the normal domestic routine. We learn to make the switch (hopefully), not bring work home, out of head onto paper helps me
I mention suicide here, read on with care or maybe not at all?
Continue reading “A Shift In The ED”
My births were rare in today’s world, both spontaneous labours, no vaginal examinations, no drugs, no interventions of any kind, nothing DONE to me. Afterwards both times, I felt like superwoman like “bloody hell if I can do THAT, I can do anything!”
Continue reading “Chapter 8. My Birth Stories”