Thrumming like a drumbeat for a lifetime
Well I had my first day in cardiac surgery today livejournal.
And it was.. interesting.
First of they stuck me in anesthetics. which was unusual considering I don't DO anesthetics and didn't know a laryngscope from an arc line. But never mind we started as we meant to go on and I got a lot of help from the guy I was stuck with.
In fact, rewinding, my FIRST impression was the staircase.
See, the cardiac section is in the BRI, a big monolithic structure known forth hence as "The Citadel". This is due to it's ugly, 60's architecture which is now saturated with Industrial Revolution levels of grime. It has all the exterior charm of the old Bristol bus station which was like something out of communist Poland. Think scaffolding and corrugated tin everywhere. And toilets that reeked of urine.
But, the theatres are on the 6th floor, so after catching a clunker lift up to 6 I found the theatres, met my mentor and was shown the change rooms. Which reside at the bottom of a spiral staircase.
??
Yep, walk through a door and a spiral staircase takes you down a level to (I presume) level 5 where the change rooms are.
Ok-ay! It was the last thing I expected to see, and in hindsight it is a bit of a cruel joke given the fact that you have to walk DOWN to change and back UP to work. Climbing stairs a couple of times a day really keeps you fit I can tell you.
But fast-forwarding back to the surgery part it is very techy and call-and-response orientated. The surgeon cuts through fat, then saws through the sternum/breastbone and uses a small windy jack to prize the ribs apart and there sits the heart.
Going purr-dum, pur-dum, purr-dum
and probably "shit! shit! we're exposed, they're going to stick knives in us! Ahhhh!"
Okay, I do tend to anthropomorphise body parts, both my own and other peoples. I don't know why I do this.
But he sticks a blade in it, gets a dirty great lumen catheter and a couple of minutes later the hearts bloodless and the patient's on bypass for the next 53 minutes. Then they cut down through the aorta - which is the vessel that can shoot blood a good fifteen feet if it's severed - peel away the fat and plague occluding the valve and stick a new artificial valve in its place. And then sew them up.
Oh yeah, and take the heart off bypass and shock it with little paddles if they need too. Kinda like a kickstart.
It would be nicer if the surgeon wasn't such a twat. Although he was ok to me cos 1) I was an observer only who was interested and 2) after telling him I did American Studies for my arts degree started chatting about the 3 years he did a fellowship in Charlotte, NC and whether the US conspiracy theories had any real weight.
I reckoned JFK's does, the Moon Landings doesn't and this Oil Spill in the Gulf has real legs.
I didn't quiz him on 9/11 though.
Although personally I didn't think that was a conspiracy.
After my shift ended I had to get home, which meant a bus ride (sarcastic yay).
£4.05 for the single ticket which wasn't bad, but when the guy tells me he has no change. At all, for the £5 I have I do get a bit verbal.
Not in a bad way!
But the buses don't carry floats anymore. Some girls behind me gave the guy £10 each and got no change, just a strip of paper they have to present at the bus station to get a refund.
Mad world, and mad city Bristol is.
Right college tomorrow and back to the Citadel on Thursday
And it was.. interesting.
First of they stuck me in anesthetics. which was unusual considering I don't DO anesthetics and didn't know a laryngscope from an arc line. But never mind we started as we meant to go on and I got a lot of help from the guy I was stuck with.
In fact, rewinding, my FIRST impression was the staircase.
See, the cardiac section is in the BRI, a big monolithic structure known forth hence as "The Citadel". This is due to it's ugly, 60's architecture which is now saturated with Industrial Revolution levels of grime. It has all the exterior charm of the old Bristol bus station which was like something out of communist Poland. Think scaffolding and corrugated tin everywhere. And toilets that reeked of urine.
But, the theatres are on the 6th floor, so after catching a clunker lift up to 6 I found the theatres, met my mentor and was shown the change rooms. Which reside at the bottom of a spiral staircase.
??
Yep, walk through a door and a spiral staircase takes you down a level to (I presume) level 5 where the change rooms are.
Ok-ay! It was the last thing I expected to see, and in hindsight it is a bit of a cruel joke given the fact that you have to walk DOWN to change and back UP to work. Climbing stairs a couple of times a day really keeps you fit I can tell you.
But fast-forwarding back to the surgery part it is very techy and call-and-response orientated. The surgeon cuts through fat, then saws through the sternum/breastbone and uses a small windy jack to prize the ribs apart and there sits the heart.
Going purr-dum, pur-dum, purr-dum
and probably "shit! shit! we're exposed, they're going to stick knives in us! Ahhhh!"
Okay, I do tend to anthropomorphise body parts, both my own and other peoples. I don't know why I do this.
But he sticks a blade in it, gets a dirty great lumen catheter and a couple of minutes later the hearts bloodless and the patient's on bypass for the next 53 minutes. Then they cut down through the aorta - which is the vessel that can shoot blood a good fifteen feet if it's severed - peel away the fat and plague occluding the valve and stick a new artificial valve in its place. And then sew them up.
Oh yeah, and take the heart off bypass and shock it with little paddles if they need too. Kinda like a kickstart.
It would be nicer if the surgeon wasn't such a twat. Although he was ok to me cos 1) I was an observer only who was interested and 2) after telling him I did American Studies for my arts degree started chatting about the 3 years he did a fellowship in Charlotte, NC and whether the US conspiracy theories had any real weight.
I reckoned JFK's does, the Moon Landings doesn't and this Oil Spill in the Gulf has real legs.
I didn't quiz him on 9/11 though.
Although personally I didn't think that was a conspiracy.
After my shift ended I had to get home, which meant a bus ride (sarcastic yay).
£4.05 for the single ticket which wasn't bad, but when the guy tells me he has no change. At all, for the £5 I have I do get a bit verbal.
Not in a bad way!
But the buses don't carry floats anymore. Some girls behind me gave the guy £10 each and got no change, just a strip of paper they have to present at the bus station to get a refund.
Mad world, and mad city Bristol is.
Right college tomorrow and back to the Citadel on Thursday