Showing posts with label patients. Show all posts
Showing posts with label patients. Show all posts
Friday, 11 January 2008
Kanja-san
I met a terminal cancer patient yesterday. It was only part way through a wonderful conversation with her that she told me her diagnosis. I didn`t really know what to say, so I just said that I was sorry and that it sounded like she had had an amazing life. She told me she had traveled to 25 countries, including England three times, and China, where she taught English. I found myself thinking about her last night and I regretted not learning more about her when I had the chance. Today though I found out her name and the date of her next treatment at the hospital. I have also loosely arranged to get a little time off work to go and see her when she is next here. I feel like I should buy her a gift or something, but what does one buy for someone who is dying? I can`t even give her food because she has no appetite due to all of her medications. Maybe I should just give her as much of my time as possible….?
Wednesday, 26 December 2007
整形外科 はだいすき - I Love Orthopedic Surgery
Nothing can make my day like watching a fractured clavicle being screwed back together. I finally got to watch some seikei geka (orthopedic surgery) today. I had been waiting for this for four months and it was certainly worth the wait. There were scews and titanium pins and electric drills and screwdrivers and wire cutters... They actually bored the grooves into the bone for the screws! Come on, how awesome is that?! Oh man, it was excellent. To quote Christina from Grey`s Anatomy, it was "like candy, but with blood, which is so much better!"
I love Seikei.
I love Seikei.
Tuesday, 25 December 2007
リハビリ - Rehabilitation
May and I have worked our way down to the fourth floor of the hospital for the second time now. However, because the fourth floor is all orthopaedic, there is only one ward (4F) on the east side of the building and a rehabilitation centre on the west. Last time we were on this floor, I went to work on the 4F ward for two weeks and May spent the first week in Rehabilitation and the second with a nurse doing home visits. So, this time I got to go to Rehab. Compared to the work on the wards rehab is a piece of cake – in the literal sense too, since you get a daily tea break, complete with your choice of okashi ('confectionery').
It was very inspiring working in rehab. At first I was quite anxious during my time there because a lot of my responsibilities involved talking with patients – all in Japanese, of course. One patient changed my perspective a little though. She came and sat down next to me part way through her walking laps of the centre. All I said to her was, “Tsukareta desu ka?” (“Are you tired?”) and she launched into a whole story about her knee replacement. Within minutes she had lifted up her trouser leg and shown me her six-inch scar too. She didn't care that I clearly wasn't understanding everything she was saying; she just wanted to say it to somebody. I was less shy about talking to patients after that.
The patient I interacted with most though was an eighty-nine year old woman. I don't know what was wrong with her (she came down each day from 6th floor, so not an orthopaedic patient) but she was clearly very old and very frail. Unlike most Japanese people, she looked older than she was. She came to rehab every day for both a physical and metal workout. I was given the task of keeping her word association up to scratch. I would show her a picture on a card and ask her what it was and she had to answer. This was quite difficult for us both. She couldn't always remember the word and I couldn't always understand the Japanese. She was your stereotypical Japanese woman though: she could remember the names of every different type of flowers I showed her but she couldn't remember the difference between a fork and a spoon. At the end of the week, the tables were turned and she got to ask me what the picture on the card was and I had to tell her in Japanese. Even at 89, she totally kicked my ass at it!
I noticed that most of the people in Rehabilitation were elderly. I thought how it would be bad enough for a young, fit person to go through such dramatic surgery and to be faced with a long rehab program, but add onto that old age... that's tough. I broke my little finger playing netball when I was eleven and it still aches to this day. I have noticed it more recently due to the type of work I am doing here in Japan. Any task that involves splaying my fingers or moving the little one independent of the adjacent finger and it'll become all stiff and painful. And that's just a broken finger from eight years ago. These people are recovery from broken pelvises for goodness sake! It was very clear how great a job the orthopaedic surgeons do. It seemed impossible that these people were walking at all and yet there they were, striding through the rehab centre with their walking sticks permanently raised from the ground. Yes, Rehabilitation was very inspiring. I realised though, that physical rehab is a lot like yoga – very beneficial to your health but it makes, at times, passing wind impossible to avoid.
It was very inspiring working in rehab. At first I was quite anxious during my time there because a lot of my responsibilities involved talking with patients – all in Japanese, of course. One patient changed my perspective a little though. She came and sat down next to me part way through her walking laps of the centre. All I said to her was, “Tsukareta desu ka?” (“Are you tired?”) and she launched into a whole story about her knee replacement. Within minutes she had lifted up her trouser leg and shown me her six-inch scar too. She didn't care that I clearly wasn't understanding everything she was saying; she just wanted to say it to somebody. I was less shy about talking to patients after that.
The patient I interacted with most though was an eighty-nine year old woman. I don't know what was wrong with her (she came down each day from 6th floor, so not an orthopaedic patient) but she was clearly very old and very frail. Unlike most Japanese people, she looked older than she was. She came to rehab every day for both a physical and metal workout. I was given the task of keeping her word association up to scratch. I would show her a picture on a card and ask her what it was and she had to answer. This was quite difficult for us both. She couldn't always remember the word and I couldn't always understand the Japanese. She was your stereotypical Japanese woman though: she could remember the names of every different type of flowers I showed her but she couldn't remember the difference between a fork and a spoon. At the end of the week, the tables were turned and she got to ask me what the picture on the card was and I had to tell her in Japanese. Even at 89, she totally kicked my ass at it!
I noticed that most of the people in Rehabilitation were elderly. I thought how it would be bad enough for a young, fit person to go through such dramatic surgery and to be faced with a long rehab program, but add onto that old age... that's tough. I broke my little finger playing netball when I was eleven and it still aches to this day. I have noticed it more recently due to the type of work I am doing here in Japan. Any task that involves splaying my fingers or moving the little one independent of the adjacent finger and it'll become all stiff and painful. And that's just a broken finger from eight years ago. These people are recovery from broken pelvises for goodness sake! It was very clear how great a job the orthopaedic surgeons do. It seemed impossible that these people were walking at all and yet there they were, striding through the rehab centre with their walking sticks permanently raised from the ground. Yes, Rehabilitation was very inspiring. I realised though, that physical rehab is a lot like yoga – very beneficial to your health but it makes, at times, passing wind impossible to avoid.
Monday, 10 December 2007
New Schedule
There are only two new departments in my revised work schedule for this month: the nursery and the operation room. I worked in both of them for the first time last week, so I can tell you a little about them now.
Before my timetable changed, I worked on the wards every day of the week. Now, with the nursery on Wednesday mornings I have a break from that, a 'weekend in the middle of the week' as May called it. It made a huge difference. How could it not have? Instead of changing bed sheets, folding towels and making oshibori, I am playing with a dozen children under the age of five. They were all very cute and very shy at first, but after about half an hour they were jumping all over May and me – literally – and trying to out-do each other in impressing us. The teachers were great too; they didn't even laugh when they had to show me how to change a nappy.
The highlight of the morning was watching the children's Christmas concert rehersal. I felt a little sorry for them though. They must have been petrified performing to a couple of foreigners instead of their parents. To my surprise, they didn't show any more fear than you might expect from a toddler singing a solo to an audience. It was a great little show. The costumes were wonderful too. And because this was a Buddhist Christmas concert, there was no mention of the birth of Jesus or telling of the nativity story – as you would expect – just lots of singing about Christmas time... and food, for some reason. I can't wait to go back there on Wednesday.
Second, the operation room. You're probably wondering what work two un-trained volunteers could possibly do on the surgery floor. Unfortunately for me, it turned out the answer didn't involve anything inside the theatres. We were doing behind the scenes stuff – packaging sterile equipment mainly, for both the OT's and the wards. I thought it was quite satisfying in a way, knowing that this medical equipment was soon going to be used by a surgeon or doctor. Maybe I was grabbing at straws though; I wanted to be observing surgery.
Anyway, that's about it. My timetable will change again come January. I will no longer have a free Wednesday afternoon but will be working in Nutrition and then Radiology. Although I will obviously miss my free afternoon – especially considering that is the only time I have been able to watch surgeries so far – it will be nice going back to Radiology. I already miss it after only a week without it. There's such a great atmosphere there, one that seems to be unique to Radiology. Plus, May and I have made some good friends there. Matso-san stands out for both of us. He is a similar age to us (he's 24) so we feel like we're on a similar level to him. I am the youngest employee on the hospital staff so, according to Japanese culture, everyone else is essentially my boss, including May. Matso-san treats us more like equals though, maybe because if it weren't for us, he would be the youngest on the staff. I also miss the chief Radiologist, 'Ojiisan' ('Grandfather' – not his name, just what everyone calls him). He shows me the coolest x-rays, MRI's and CT's that he can find and then lets me try and work out what they are of. At least we will see all the Radiology gang at Bonenkai on Friday. Yay.
Before my timetable changed, I worked on the wards every day of the week. Now, with the nursery on Wednesday mornings I have a break from that, a 'weekend in the middle of the week' as May called it. It made a huge difference. How could it not have? Instead of changing bed sheets, folding towels and making oshibori, I am playing with a dozen children under the age of five. They were all very cute and very shy at first, but after about half an hour they were jumping all over May and me – literally – and trying to out-do each other in impressing us. The teachers were great too; they didn't even laugh when they had to show me how to change a nappy.
The highlight of the morning was watching the children's Christmas concert rehersal. I felt a little sorry for them though. They must have been petrified performing to a couple of foreigners instead of their parents. To my surprise, they didn't show any more fear than you might expect from a toddler singing a solo to an audience. It was a great little show. The costumes were wonderful too. And because this was a Buddhist Christmas concert, there was no mention of the birth of Jesus or telling of the nativity story – as you would expect – just lots of singing about Christmas time... and food, for some reason. I can't wait to go back there on Wednesday.
Second, the operation room. You're probably wondering what work two un-trained volunteers could possibly do on the surgery floor. Unfortunately for me, it turned out the answer didn't involve anything inside the theatres. We were doing behind the scenes stuff – packaging sterile equipment mainly, for both the OT's and the wards. I thought it was quite satisfying in a way, knowing that this medical equipment was soon going to be used by a surgeon or doctor. Maybe I was grabbing at straws though; I wanted to be observing surgery.
Anyway, that's about it. My timetable will change again come January. I will no longer have a free Wednesday afternoon but will be working in Nutrition and then Radiology. Although I will obviously miss my free afternoon – especially considering that is the only time I have been able to watch surgeries so far – it will be nice going back to Radiology. I already miss it after only a week without it. There's such a great atmosphere there, one that seems to be unique to Radiology. Plus, May and I have made some good friends there. Matso-san stands out for both of us. He is a similar age to us (he's 24) so we feel like we're on a similar level to him. I am the youngest employee on the hospital staff so, according to Japanese culture, everyone else is essentially my boss, including May. Matso-san treats us more like equals though, maybe because if it weren't for us, he would be the youngest on the staff. I also miss the chief Radiologist, 'Ojiisan' ('Grandfather' – not his name, just what everyone calls him). He shows me the coolest x-rays, MRI's and CT's that he can find and then lets me try and work out what they are of. At least we will see all the Radiology gang at Bonenkai on Friday. Yay.
げか 2 - Surgery II
I went back into surgery on Wednesday. It was only the third time I have been in there but it felt like the hundredth. I feel like I have been watching surgeries all my life, but each one is still just as amazing as the first one I saw.
I watched two operations on this visit: a Cholecystectomy (removal of the gallbladder) and a skin graft.
Cholecystectomy:
This was an endoscopic (or laparoscopic) procedure. Several small incisions are made at strategic points on the patient's abdomen and then the surgeon detaches the gallbladder and pulls it out through one of the holes. This particular patient had a rather bad case of gallstones, so his gallbladder was very enlarged. It was about the size of a pear, and the incisions are roughly the size of grapes, so there was quite a bit of tugging and twisting when it came to pulling it out. It reminded me of birth, only the result isn't a cute baby but a diseased sac of bile. Oh, speaking of bile, the surgeons accidentally punctured the gallbladder while they were detaching it from the liver, and this caused some of the bile contained within to gush out into the patients abdominal cavity. It was quite a sight!
This procedure was particularly impressive because the surgeons can't see anything they are doing directly. They have various long instruments stuck into their patient, which they are enthusiastically moving around, thrusting them into the far corners of this poor man's stomach, all time while looking at a TV screen. It must take a lot of practice. Obviously.
Skin Graft
Now this one was very interesting indeed. Whereas all the other procedures I have observed have been fairly routine, a skin graft can never really be routine, can it? I mean, if you need some of your skin replacing... how often does that happen?
The patient had had a malignant melanoma on her foot. The cancer was very aggressive so the dermatologist had to remove a lot of skin from the foot around the tumour to ensure there wasn't a single cell of it left that would spread. That happened several weeks ago. Now, the patient was well enough to undergo a second surgery to repair some of the damage sustained to her foot as a result of the first surgery. A large section of skin was removed from the patient's abdomen – about the size of a mango, to continue the fruit sizing system – and while an intern and resident took to sewing up this huge hole, the chief of dermatology started preparing the skin for grafting. This involved carefully cutting off the inch of fat – which is a delicious, bright yellow colour by the way – that was present and then smoothing the underside of the skin by cutting away any imperfections. When she was finished, the skin looked so thin and shrivelled I was just hoping that it was stretchy, otherwise it would never cover the wound. It turned out to be remarkably stretchy; The skin really is an amazing organ, you know.
Once the skin was loosely attached with just enough stitches to hold it in place, a blue dye was injected into the tissue around the would, presumably to track the blood flow to the new skin over the next few hours/days. That's when it happened.... the foot moved!!! Ha! The surgeon stopped what he was doing and gave a rather amused look to the anaesthesiologist, who quickly made a few adjustments to the station at his end of the table. Aw man, the foot moved.... awesome :-)
I watched two operations on this visit: a Cholecystectomy (removal of the gallbladder) and a skin graft.
Cholecystectomy:
This was an endoscopic (or laparoscopic) procedure. Several small incisions are made at strategic points on the patient's abdomen and then the surgeon detaches the gallbladder and pulls it out through one of the holes. This particular patient had a rather bad case of gallstones, so his gallbladder was very enlarged. It was about the size of a pear, and the incisions are roughly the size of grapes, so there was quite a bit of tugging and twisting when it came to pulling it out. It reminded me of birth, only the result isn't a cute baby but a diseased sac of bile. Oh, speaking of bile, the surgeons accidentally punctured the gallbladder while they were detaching it from the liver, and this caused some of the bile contained within to gush out into the patients abdominal cavity. It was quite a sight!
This procedure was particularly impressive because the surgeons can't see anything they are doing directly. They have various long instruments stuck into their patient, which they are enthusiastically moving around, thrusting them into the far corners of this poor man's stomach, all time while looking at a TV screen. It must take a lot of practice. Obviously.
Skin Graft
Now this one was very interesting indeed. Whereas all the other procedures I have observed have been fairly routine, a skin graft can never really be routine, can it? I mean, if you need some of your skin replacing... how often does that happen?
The patient had had a malignant melanoma on her foot. The cancer was very aggressive so the dermatologist had to remove a lot of skin from the foot around the tumour to ensure there wasn't a single cell of it left that would spread. That happened several weeks ago. Now, the patient was well enough to undergo a second surgery to repair some of the damage sustained to her foot as a result of the first surgery. A large section of skin was removed from the patient's abdomen – about the size of a mango, to continue the fruit sizing system – and while an intern and resident took to sewing up this huge hole, the chief of dermatology started preparing the skin for grafting. This involved carefully cutting off the inch of fat – which is a delicious, bright yellow colour by the way – that was present and then smoothing the underside of the skin by cutting away any imperfections. When she was finished, the skin looked so thin and shrivelled I was just hoping that it was stretchy, otherwise it would never cover the wound. It turned out to be remarkably stretchy; The skin really is an amazing organ, you know.
Once the skin was loosely attached with just enough stitches to hold it in place, a blue dye was injected into the tissue around the would, presumably to track the blood flow to the new skin over the next few hours/days. That's when it happened.... the foot moved!!! Ha! The surgeon stopped what he was doing and gave a rather amused look to the anaesthesiologist, who quickly made a few adjustments to the station at his end of the table. Aw man, the foot moved.... awesome :-)
Wednesday, 14 November 2007
げか - Surgery
Phew! What a week it has been. My first surgery was awesome, as was the Kumamoto trip, although for drastically different reasons. I'll talk about Kumamoto in a later post, I promise.
So there I was, last Wednesday, the day of my first surgery. I was met by one of the female surgeons who took me into the changing room to get into my surgical scrubs, cap and mask. Even that part was exciting. She then took me through the surgical floor to O.T. 5, where I had a few minutes to just look around in awe at all the cool equipment and medical stuff. Nakashimasan (the vice-president of the hospital, who took May and me to the Viking restaurant back in October) arrived and he told me a bit about the patient: 6 year-old male; blood type AB+; suffering from sleep apnea, difficulties eating/gaining weight, a concave chest and heart problems as a result of this; will undergo tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy. Basically, his tonsils and adenoids were so big that he couldn't swallow, that's where most of his medical problems were coming from. This tiny little boy was brought in, obviously pretty scared, but the anaesthetists were great and soon calmed him down. It took quite a long time for him to fully fall asleep though. Nakashimasan explained that they were being particularly careful with the anaesthetic because he was a child.
With the patient under general anaesthetic, the surgeons got to work. The main thing they were worried about was bleeding. They don't use sutures for a tonsillectomy so they have to be certain that they have stopped all the bleeding (using what is essentially a soldering iron) before they wake the patient up. I was a little surprised at how rough they had to be to get the tonsils out. They used a 'snare' (wire loop) and pretty much just pulled them out. From start to finish, it was about 1 hour 30 minutes. That's 90 minutes of pure enthralment from my perspective.
After the little boy was moved out and taken back to his Mum, Nakashimasan gave me a proper tour of the surgical floor. I got to peek inside the other four operating rooms, all of which had surgeries going on in them. I also spent a few minutes observing a skin tumour being removed from a woman's scalp, which was very cool. I wondered how something like that gets noticed though. I mean I could only see it because her head had been shaved. Ordinarily her hair would have covered it, right?
Anyway, we headed back to OT5. A second patient was brought in. Two surgeries in one day – I couldn't believe my luck! This patient was a middle-aged man with a visible tumour in his neck: a tumour of the lymph gland. As you probably would have guessed, he was in surgery to have it removed. The doctors didn't know if it was malignant or not, but regardless, nobody wants a lump the size of a golf ball sticking out of they neck. This second procedure was way cooler than the first. The point at which I realised this was when the surgeons were in the process of cutting out the tumour, tying off blood vessels as they went – something that looked very satisfying to do indeed – and a wonderful gloop of lymph oozed out of it. Imagine really thick cream, but more yellow, and you've got lymph. It was disgusting but so, so interesting. Apparently, this tumour was actually contained within a lymph-filled sack, hence the seepage. Cooool.
The second surgery only took about an hour and after that, alas, I had to leave. I was really tired though, after standing up concentrating for three hours straight. My body was tired, but my mind was buzzing. It really was amazing. It all felt so natural, you know, like it was natural for me to be there. This wasn't just some once-in-a-lifetime experience; I could see myself doing this every day as my job. Ah, I am still so excited about it a week on. I might being going into surgery again this afternoon but Nakashimasan is at a conference so I need to find the female surgeon from last time. I'll let you know as and when I make it back in!
So there I was, last Wednesday, the day of my first surgery. I was met by one of the female surgeons who took me into the changing room to get into my surgical scrubs, cap and mask. Even that part was exciting. She then took me through the surgical floor to O.T. 5, where I had a few minutes to just look around in awe at all the cool equipment and medical stuff. Nakashimasan (the vice-president of the hospital, who took May and me to the Viking restaurant back in October) arrived and he told me a bit about the patient: 6 year-old male; blood type AB+; suffering from sleep apnea, difficulties eating/gaining weight, a concave chest and heart problems as a result of this; will undergo tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy. Basically, his tonsils and adenoids were so big that he couldn't swallow, that's where most of his medical problems were coming from. This tiny little boy was brought in, obviously pretty scared, but the anaesthetists were great and soon calmed him down. It took quite a long time for him to fully fall asleep though. Nakashimasan explained that they were being particularly careful with the anaesthetic because he was a child.
With the patient under general anaesthetic, the surgeons got to work. The main thing they were worried about was bleeding. They don't use sutures for a tonsillectomy so they have to be certain that they have stopped all the bleeding (using what is essentially a soldering iron) before they wake the patient up. I was a little surprised at how rough they had to be to get the tonsils out. They used a 'snare' (wire loop) and pretty much just pulled them out. From start to finish, it was about 1 hour 30 minutes. That's 90 minutes of pure enthralment from my perspective.
After the little boy was moved out and taken back to his Mum, Nakashimasan gave me a proper tour of the surgical floor. I got to peek inside the other four operating rooms, all of which had surgeries going on in them. I also spent a few minutes observing a skin tumour being removed from a woman's scalp, which was very cool. I wondered how something like that gets noticed though. I mean I could only see it because her head had been shaved. Ordinarily her hair would have covered it, right?
Anyway, we headed back to OT5. A second patient was brought in. Two surgeries in one day – I couldn't believe my luck! This patient was a middle-aged man with a visible tumour in his neck: a tumour of the lymph gland. As you probably would have guessed, he was in surgery to have it removed. The doctors didn't know if it was malignant or not, but regardless, nobody wants a lump the size of a golf ball sticking out of they neck. This second procedure was way cooler than the first. The point at which I realised this was when the surgeons were in the process of cutting out the tumour, tying off blood vessels as they went – something that looked very satisfying to do indeed – and a wonderful gloop of lymph oozed out of it. Imagine really thick cream, but more yellow, and you've got lymph. It was disgusting but so, so interesting. Apparently, this tumour was actually contained within a lymph-filled sack, hence the seepage. Cooool.
The second surgery only took about an hour and after that, alas, I had to leave. I was really tired though, after standing up concentrating for three hours straight. My body was tired, but my mind was buzzing. It really was amazing. It all felt so natural, you know, like it was natural for me to be there. This wasn't just some once-in-a-lifetime experience; I could see myself doing this every day as my job. Ah, I am still so excited about it a week on. I might being going into surgery again this afternoon but Nakashimasan is at a conference so I need to find the female surgeon from last time. I'll let you know as and when I make it back in!
Wednesday, 7 November 2007
おどろき- Surprises
Surprise Number One: Today, in approximately twenty-five minutes, I will be watching my first ever surgery!
Surprise Number Two: Over the next four months I will be watching many surgeries, perhaps as many as one per week, and of all different types. My hospital doesn't have a cardiology or neurology department - yes, I did ask! - but it does have an excellent orthopedic department. Do you know how cool an orthopedic surgery is going to be?!
Surprise Number Three: I am going to Kumamoto this weekend, my first trip outside of Nagasaki. There's a Kyushu-wide Red Cross Sports Competition being held there on Sunday, so the hospital is arranging for May and me to travel down there, as well as putting us up in a hotel and providing us with meals. We have to pay ¥5000 for this but, believe me, this is a bargain. Although we're only going to watch, it will be great cheering for the Nagasaki team, as well as getting to know some of the other hospital staff better. Oh, and Lucy and LeeAnna, two of the other Gapper's we met in Tokyo are placed in Kumamoto, so May and I will get to see them again too.
Surprise Number Four: I can't tell anybody this one yet, but for those it will affect - hee hee - it's going to be great.
*
Feeling good.
Surprise Number Two: Over the next four months I will be watching many surgeries, perhaps as many as one per week, and of all different types. My hospital doesn't have a cardiology or neurology department - yes, I did ask! - but it does have an excellent orthopedic department. Do you know how cool an orthopedic surgery is going to be?!
Surprise Number Three: I am going to Kumamoto this weekend, my first trip outside of Nagasaki. There's a Kyushu-wide Red Cross Sports Competition being held there on Sunday, so the hospital is arranging for May and me to travel down there, as well as putting us up in a hotel and providing us with meals. We have to pay ¥5000 for this but, believe me, this is a bargain. Although we're only going to watch, it will be great cheering for the Nagasaki team, as well as getting to know some of the other hospital staff better. Oh, and Lucy and LeeAnna, two of the other Gapper's we met in Tokyo are placed in Kumamoto, so May and I will get to see them again too.
Surprise Number Four: I can't tell anybody this one yet, but for those it will affect - hee hee - it's going to be great.
*
Feeling good.
Monday, 5 November 2007
やっきょく- Pharmacy
At the end of November my timetable at work is due change. I will still spend half of every day in a nurses station, but the departments in which I work for the other half will change for the latter three months of my placement. This means I will no longer go to the beloved Pharmacy on Thursday afternoons or Radiology on Friday afternoons. I feel a little sad about this because I have made some good friends in these departments and I enjoy the work there. On the plus side, I won't have to go to the Medical Matters section first thing on a Monday anymore. No more lugging patient's files the size of encyclopedias for three and a half hours at a time, yay.
When I first discovered that my whole working week was to be transformed so drastically, my instinct was to worry. (What a surprise, *eye roll*). Now though, I am getting quite excited about it. I have various sources of information in the hospital, and in terms of which new departments I can expect to spend half of my week in, overall things look good. I don't want to say too much on this now because I kinda sorta have a few surprises up my sleeve that I don't want to let slip yet. Hee hee. I know something you don't know!
Anyway, I know I have mentioned the Pharmacy a few times as being my favourite department, but I haven't really explained why. Now that I only have four more afternoons there - yikes, is it only four? - it seems about time that I list a few reasons why I like it so much:
1. I'm together with May, so we can chat and I don't have to worry as much about understanding Japanese because she is essentially my interpreter.
2. We get to sit down for the entire time. Believe me, this is a God-send after a hard morning on the nurses stations.
3. Most of what we do involves packaging medications, like this...
...folding leaflets, and occasionally mixing pre-measured medicine. None of this is particularly difficult work, but is occupying enough that we don't get too bored and not too distracting so we can still talk.
4. The staff in the Pharmacy are really friendly and very appreciative of our work. They even make us origami.
5. The staff in the Pharmacy bring us tea and cakes once we have finished all the work.
6. We are allowed to leave early if we finish all the work set. We do this every single week.
So there you go, my work in the Pharmacy in a nutshell.
When I first discovered that my whole working week was to be transformed so drastically, my instinct was to worry. (What a surprise, *eye roll*). Now though, I am getting quite excited about it. I have various sources of information in the hospital, and in terms of which new departments I can expect to spend half of my week in, overall things look good. I don't want to say too much on this now because I kinda sorta have a few surprises up my sleeve that I don't want to let slip yet. Hee hee. I know something you don't know!
Anyway, I know I have mentioned the Pharmacy a few times as being my favourite department, but I haven't really explained why. Now that I only have four more afternoons there - yikes, is it only four? - it seems about time that I list a few reasons why I like it so much:
1. I'm together with May, so we can chat and I don't have to worry as much about understanding Japanese because she is essentially my interpreter.
2. We get to sit down for the entire time. Believe me, this is a God-send after a hard morning on the nurses stations.
3. Most of what we do involves packaging medications, like this...
...folding leaflets, and occasionally mixing pre-measured medicine. None of this is particularly difficult work, but is occupying enough that we don't get too bored and not too distracting so we can still talk.
4. The staff in the Pharmacy are really friendly and very appreciative of our work. They even make us origami.
5. The staff in the Pharmacy bring us tea and cakes once we have finished all the work.
6. We are allowed to leave early if we finish all the work set. We do this every single week.
So there you go, my work in the Pharmacy in a nutshell.
Wednesday, 31 October 2007
2⽉ - Two Months
Well, another month has passed. That's two down, four to go. Looking back, the second month was a bit easier than the first. Perhaps this is because everything is now familiar, perhaps it's because of the babies on 5E. Although, having said that, I seem to have developed new fear during my second month in Japan: stairs. Japanese stairs are really steep and tall (you saw the ones at Suwa-jinja!) and are made of brick, and I'm afraid that if I fall down them I will break my neck and that will be the end of me. I'm even having dreams on this theme. I look forward to nice English, carpeted staircases.
On a much brighter note, yesterday I got to handle my first human organs! Woo. Sure, they were from a recent autopsy rather than a live patient, but that actually took the pressure off a little and made me less worried about dropping them on my shoes. My friend in the test dept. just kept on handing me body bits, which I prodded for a while until he handed me the next one. I could tell what some of the organs were but some were completely indistinguishable (they had already been 'autopsied' – cut up). I was playing around with one particular piece of dead person and couldn't figure out what it was, so I asked: the patient's rectum-
8-I
-Right. Okay, I'm just gonna put that one down now. Next? I was quite proud of myself for putting my hands in a jar filled with formaldehyde and all the internal organs of a now ex-patient. I hesitated at first, but then thought, 'hey, when is the next time I'm gonna get the chance to do this?' I answered my own question with, 'probably next year when you start medical school' and decided it was too long to wait. “Hand me the gloves,” I said. The organs were actually less scary once I had touched them. After feeling them they just became rubbery bits of meat rather than parts of a human being, and that was easier for my brain to handle.
Anyway, back to the point of this post. I have passed my two month marker. Next target: Three Months, aka Half Way.
Thursday, 11 October 2007
5 階東 – 5E Nurses Station
I had to get up at 5:30 on Tuesday morning. I would have been annoyed at this had I not done so for the sake of the Nagasaki Kunchi Matsuri (festival). Japan must be the only country in the world where festivals start at 7am. The hospital paid for tickets for Kimurasan, May and me, which I am told aren't too cheap either, so I really can't complain. The “show” was absolutely fantastic, but there is way too much for me to say about it now. For a full post on this, you will have to wait until after the weekend when I have had more time to write - sorry.
After the festivities of the morning and an excellent lunch out of Okonomiyaki, May and I had to return to work. That afternoon I moved from the 6th floor nurses station to go kai higashi (5th floor East wing). Like the last time I moved two weeks ago, I couldn't help but feel apprehensive about the unknown. Unlike last time however – when I was greeted with much the same stuff on 6E as was on 7E, since both appeared to be general wards – this time I was pleasantly surprised to discover that 5E is solely a maternity and gynaecology ward. I know I'm going to sound like such a girl when I say this, but it makes a huge difference having babies around at work! Everything is suddenly way more interesting. There is a group of student nurses on 5E at the moment, and sometimes when they are being shown how to do new things I am allowed to observe also. On Wednesday I observed how to bathe a newborn baby. I found it most funny that instead of, as in England, dressing her in a one-piece baby-grow, the nurse put her in a little yakuta (summer kimono/ dressing robe). Aww! And then... I got to hold her! Kawai ne... yoroshiku. Sorry, I really can't help it. She was so cute! Just a teeny, tiny little human being.
It makes a nice change from the upper floors, where some of the patients, to be quite frank, look as though they have just escaped from a labour camp. I'm talking about people who have lung cancer and and fractured humerus, or are missing a leg and have a bag attached to their abdomen that is steadily filling with blood. Pretty depressing stuff, although admittedly very interesting from a wannabe doctor's perspective. Oh, and also, Marikosan (the woman who lives in room 207) works on 5E so it is nice having a friend around at work too. The downside to all of this of course, is that I am only on the 5th floor for two weeks. After that I will move down to 4E, which I believe is an orthopaedic and physiotherapy ward. Interesting, yes. Full of babies, no.
After the festivities of the morning and an excellent lunch out of Okonomiyaki, May and I had to return to work. That afternoon I moved from the 6th floor nurses station to go kai higashi (5th floor East wing). Like the last time I moved two weeks ago, I couldn't help but feel apprehensive about the unknown. Unlike last time however – when I was greeted with much the same stuff on 6E as was on 7E, since both appeared to be general wards – this time I was pleasantly surprised to discover that 5E is solely a maternity and gynaecology ward. I know I'm going to sound like such a girl when I say this, but it makes a huge difference having babies around at work! Everything is suddenly way more interesting. There is a group of student nurses on 5E at the moment, and sometimes when they are being shown how to do new things I am allowed to observe also. On Wednesday I observed how to bathe a newborn baby. I found it most funny that instead of, as in England, dressing her in a one-piece baby-grow, the nurse put her in a little yakuta (summer kimono/ dressing robe). Aww! And then... I got to hold her! Kawai ne... yoroshiku. Sorry, I really can't help it. She was so cute! Just a teeny, tiny little human being.
It makes a nice change from the upper floors, where some of the patients, to be quite frank, look as though they have just escaped from a labour camp. I'm talking about people who have lung cancer and and fractured humerus, or are missing a leg and have a bag attached to their abdomen that is steadily filling with blood. Pretty depressing stuff, although admittedly very interesting from a wannabe doctor's perspective. Oh, and also, Marikosan (the woman who lives in room 207) works on 5E so it is nice having a friend around at work too. The downside to all of this of course, is that I am only on the 5th floor for two weeks. After that I will move down to 4E, which I believe is an orthopaedic and physiotherapy ward. Interesting, yes. Full of babies, no.
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