Condoms and Bleach

I was waiting at the bus stop yesterday in uniform when a lovely old couple asked me;

'What department do you work in then?'

'Accident and Emergency'

'Oh right - well done! It's nice to see a young girl* around here that's not pushing a pram.'

I had to laugh, but sadly the area I live in is infamous for teenage pregnancy. And arguments worthy of the Jeremy Kyle show.

Recently I have found myself in majors, which I have been rather happy about. I have met some great characters, and one of the things I really love about my job is that I get to meet so many different and interesting people. I met a 70-something year old male who I'll call Francis; he was brought in with his carer because he'd had a fall. I was sent over to do an ECG - suprise suprise - where I found that communicating with him was somewhat difficult. He had downs syndrome, and I'm sure he could understand what was being said to him but he couldn't (or wouldn't) reply. I tried to lift up his shirt with the help of his carer, when he started crying. I felt awful that I'd upset him, but it was really important that I got his ECG done, so I carried on. I put a sticker on his chest, and he slapped my hand away in quite a childish manner. When I looked at him he couldn't keep a straight face - he was having me on! It was a game to him and he had me feeling guilty. Well I played along. Whenever he went to slap my hand away I'd duck and hide and he couldn't stop laughing. I would pop up and put one on his wrist and then his leg and one by one I got them all on. Then came the tricky bit, wiring him up. 'Now Francis, will you be good and let me hook you up to my special machine?' He shook his head. He snatched my badge from my uniform and with him suitably distracted I somehow managed to get him hooked up and his ECG printed. I asked him if he had any chest pain, and he replied by tapping his nose with his finger. He was so adorable, I wanted to spend all day with him. I found it comforting that something relatively small managed to make him so happy, and I am a little envious. He was wheeled into resus not too long after, his BP was 80/50, but he was still smiling. I think it must be nice to be unaware of all the horrible things that happen in the world.

Whilst on the A&E ward I was faced with a victim of domestic violence, another subject close to my heart. The victim was assaulted in front of her two young children, aged 7 and 10, and the attacker was her ex-boyfriend's sister (the ex is the father of her kids - apparently). She was in for hourly neuro obs (GCS) because of her head injury. She looked familiar. She lives two doors away from me, something I could have lived without knowing. I always hear shouting and banging from her house, like I said - Jeremy Kyle material, but I had no idea that it could have escalated to this. Fortunately she didn't recognise me. I have seen her since walking past my house as I was getting home from work, I quickly put my hair down and my sunglasses on as I walked past her. The shouting has kept me awake before, but there's no way I'll be going over there to tell them to keep it down.

In one of the other beds was a suicidal patient who'd seen a psychiatrist and was waiting to go to a medical ward for abnormal blood results. She'd admitted to swallowing between 60 and 80 paracetamol, and condoms filled with bleach. She was 22. When I went over to her she was topless, vomiting into a sick bowl. I stayed with her while she was sick, trying my best to comfort her, but she didn't say a word to me. She was taken up to the acute medical ward, once I'd managed to get her into a gown, and when I returned I found a note at the end of her bed which I put into my pocket and brought home with me. If you asked me now I couldn't tell you why I kept it.

*Young girl - but I wonder just how young she thought I was... I was asked by a patient not too long ago - 'Are you still at school? You don't look old enough to be a nurse'

'Oh really, how old do you think I am then?'

'Well you only look about 13 or 14'

I was not amused.

I was asked for ID to buy a lottery ticket a couple of months ago, and yet I don't get asked for ID when I go to a bar. I don't even mind being told I could be 16, but 13? Bloody 13? You're having a laugh! Fortunately everyone else I have mentioned this to has took my side, or maybe they didn't want to annoy me further. A wise choice.