A few weeks ago, it was a Tuesday to be exact, I arrived at work determined to: A. give my patient’s my best and B. get an injection for my painful left knee. The knee had been bothering me for an age and was only getting worse. Since I work for an orthopedic group, I am familiar with the steps one should try before agreeing to surgery. My next step was a steroid injection. I had an appointment at 10:00.
Upon arriving at work I was notified they needed me to work with a different provider then my usual one. No problem, I thought, he’s amusing, easy to work for and has great poster art in his exam rooms. Around the corner I went and started my day. At 10:00 I had the knee injection. This consisted of the steroid Kenalog for long-term use and Lidocaine for short-term. The Licodaine kicked in within 10 minutes but I knew it would only last 6-8 hours. That would be enough to get me through the day.
Work went on at a brisk pace and the knee felt amazing. I even forgot I had a bad knee and practically skipped through the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon. At 2:30 on the dot I went out to get my next patient and realized that the elderly woman who was bent over like a paper clip sporting a walker was my target. I gently called her name and when she got up and shuffled forward it was like watching a Carol Burnett skit with Tim Conway as the “lil old man.” Step by step she inched forward. I assured her we didn’t have to hurry and she could take her time. Around the corner, through the door, around two more corners and we were finally at the exam room.
I did the proper rooming sequence and called for the doctor to enter. Two minutes later out came the doctor and the patient. Seems she had to use the restroom immediately. As she walked to the restroom door she stated, “I feel dizzy.” Quick as lightning a chair was pushed under her and 3 medical assistants plus the doctor were taking her vitals. As this was happening she also announced she had to go to the bathroom NOW. What she didn’t mention was she was actively going to the bathroom … now. Her vitals were normal and when asked if she was still dizzy, she answered no. Up we got her and into the bathroom she went.
I proceeded about my task of taming a mound of paperwork and lo and behold ten minutes went by with not a peep out of my patient. I knocked on the bathroom door and heard, “Help, I’m in trouble in here.” Upon opening the door I witnessed she was indeed in trouble and apparently so was I.
My poor patient had just pooped herself silly. It was on the floor, running down her legs, all over the toilet and filling her Depends. Alrighty, then. As I backed out of that room my main thought was “NOOOOOOOOO, NOT POO”. Then I had a strong desire to run, run straight and run fast to the nearest exit. But fortunately I quickly came to my senses, gathered up my courage and started collecting the equipment I would need to help my patient. I donned gloves, a mask, grabbed a hazardous waste bag, said a prayer and leapt back into the fray.
You need to understand, this situation is not in my wheel house. I chose orthopedics because it was mainly “clean” and didn’t deal with any of the bodily excretions. I had never in my life seen this much poop. But, because this was my patient and I felt I had no right to pass this on to someone else, I swallowed hard and went in to do my duty with the doody.
Twenty minutes later after using a whole stack of paper towels, two hazmat bags and a roll of toilet paper, I had cleaned the floor, the patient, the toilet and the sink. I had taken off the soiled Depends and put on new ones. I had scraped drying poo off her legs. I had kneeled on the bad knee without even realizing it. I turned myself into a paperclip getting up and under and everywhere that poo was located. I “went in” four times to make sure nothing was left. At one point I flipped her skirt over her head in order not to drag it through the poo. I changed her Depends, flushed the toilet multiple times, double bagged the paper products. Somewhere in amongst all of this she had taken off her shoes. At this point I told her, “Do not step away, go nowhere, do not make the slightest move.” Finally I felt it safe to escort her out into the hall and sit her down in order to get her shoes on.
That day we decided that wasn’t just a number two. It had surpassed that number by leaps and bounds. Three might not cover it either but to skip to four is unthinkable.
So, there ends my day of poo. I hope never again in my life time to encounter such as this, but who knows? Life is full of poo and sometimes it’s hard to avoid. When my patient is one of the most vulnerable of the population it is time for me to step up, no matter my personal abhorrence to poo.
By the way, the next day the Lidocaine had worn off and the Kenalog had not quite kicked in. I could hardly bear weight on the left knee. I hobbled through much of the morning and decided to give up on the afternoon and went home. The next day I was unofficially awarded the Poop award of my department. Perhaps not my proudest moment but after all, I did what needed to be done.
magicalmess 