Episode 4 – Bloody Portovac!
Previously on Nursing Habits: Arkadia fits a 100kg dead body into a tiny body bag…
The last offices.
INT: ICU UNIT, DAY TWO. A GREY DAY, PUPIL NURSE, ARKADIA ENTERS THE 4-BEDDED ICU UNIT APPREHENSIVELY.
Day 2 on the job at ICU was a little less traumatizing than the previous one. The Intensive Care Unit felt quite intense, and intimidating. On this particular day, there were 3 patients. Mr. Duze had been in a coma for many months after a car accident and was on life support, unable to move or speak. I wondered where his mind was? Was he dreaming? Was he able to hear things around him? Would he want to be kept in a hospital bed with no control over his body? While euthanasia is a controversial subject, I think I’d rather be dead.
If he wakes up, he would be oxygen dependent.
The second bed was occupied by a suicidal policeman, Mr. Rose, that had even went to the extent of putting himself inside a body bag before shooting himself in the head. I believe he had been airlifted and treated at another hospital before coming to our hospital to be stabilized. He was coming around okay but he was extremely violent and very determined to abscond. He eventually did escape, injuring two nurses in the process. His relatives were not too thrilled and they threatened to sue if he turned up dead, since he was still in a very suicidal state of mind. Police were sent on a search and they eventually found him running around town with his butt sticking out of his hospital gown. He never did return to the hospital and I wonder if he ended up pulling the plug on himself eventually.
The third patient was an elderly woman who had some op done (I can’t remember what), I just remember her having a portovac (a portable wound suction device, that allows fluid such as blood to be evacuated), because I was instructed to empty it with disastrous results. I just popped open the lid and the next thing I know, blood splattered out of the portovac right onto my face! I looked like I had just murdered someone and I was thoroughly mortified and writhing with terror. The nurses were not very supportive, knowing that it was only my second day in practical training, and I was pissed that they didn’t tell me that there was a special way to open the portovac.
How did you make such a mess? Don’t you know how to open a portovac?
Go wash up and then come and change the linen!
I obliged, wondering to myself if the tone she used on me was uncalled for. Was it not her responsibility to warn me of things like these? I mean, it’s the first time in my life encountering a portovac. And for the first-time user it’s not blatantly obvious that it would splash unless you clamped the cord down. I washed my face about 5 times before I felt safe enough to continue. Then I wondered whether I should have been tested for HIV or any other infectious disease, but none of the staff seemed concerned, even though I later learnt that they should have reported it to the occupational health and safety nurse to make certain that I was okay. Luckily after checking for myself, there were no adverse effects. I was still feeling roughed up after Mrs. Khosa’s death, and now I was being reprimanded for something that really wasn’t my fault. Two days down and I was already feeling dejected and unsupported. So begins the rollercoaster ride through one crazy career.