Personal Narrative Essay

I will find out if patient is responsive first. If responsive, I will ask the following questions:

It was a typical Thursday on CVCU. The day was steady, but nonetheless, busy. The charge nurse aid I would be receiving a patient, post cardiac catheterization laboratory (cath lab) in room nine. I wasn’t long after, indeed I saw the cath lab team approaching with the patient. I met them in the room and I early introduced myself to Mr. E.H. I noticed, immediately, that he seemed indifferent. Meanwhile, we collectively settled him, by placing him on the monitors and assessing his procedure site.

Whiteman, [patient] what brings you in today?” [Shakes patient’s hand.] “Dr. McGreat” (Stoddard, 2016). To which Mr. Whiteman begins to explain how he has been feeling. The doctor continues with open-ended question such as: “when did this begin,” “what have you been experiencing,” “tell me a little more,” “since this, what has your diet consisted of?” For each of these questions the patient was given the opportunity to elaborate on his responses.

Sliding past me, my resident, Doctor Pjune, gives them a comforting murmur before glancing down at her charts.

Upon arrival, Murielle had a stack of paper work that she needed to record in the computer system and filed. Though I wanted to help Murielle, I first had to assist Maggie with two hot packs, one for the shoulder and the other for the wrist. While patients sat with their pain management therapy for 8 minutes, I started organizing the paper to file during my spare time. Maggie and Issac was working on a patient's splint, while I supervised the two patients who were waiting to be seen. Once Maggie was available to assist the patients, she handed me their intervention sheet, which I was able to use as a guideline for the exercising equipments that I would need to set up for each patient. Both patient therapeutic session was difference since both

I had been instructed to introduce myself to the patients, so I started with the first room and began to work my way down the long and dimly lit hallway. Popping my head into each room, I quickly muttered my name and half of a greeting before rushing over to the next one. Many of the patients in the unit didn’t acknowledge me, and for that, I was grateful. It wasn’t until I had gotten to the last room, in fact, that I was even met with a

I get to the hospital, park, and run in to the service desk. The lady is not so sure what I am talking about, but after I give her the run through she understands.

Patient will identify and discuss any concerns about the surgery and possible future episodes for the duration of the shift

My eyes flutter open, taking in the scene around me. I’m in the Medical Wing of DWMA for what seems like the billionth time. I sit up, feeling sore all over. No one is in the room with me, but the medicine cabinet is perfectly symmetrical. I giggle to myself in self hate, ashamed of what I did. How long have I been unconscious? It felt like years. I hum a soft tune as I stand up and wander down the empty hallways. It must be night time.

After lunch, I went back to Maggie and assisted with patients. There wasn't much Patients therefore I studied some of the hand and wrist muscles. I quizzed myself several times, in hopes to

Like a perfect automaton, the nurse proceeds to measure vital signs and note her findings with as little human interaction with you as is possible. After the nurse has completed her tasks, you must wait until the doctor pops his head in, nurse's records in hand. The doctor then proceeds to ask you some variation of the stock doctor question: "What seems to be the problem today?"

My mind ran wild with thousands of thoughts as I sat on the familiar, discomforting chair in the cramped waiting room. “What’s wrong with me?” I thought. My eyes glanced down at my clammy hands; my heart beats faster than the thoughts run through my head. This question continuously invades not only my thoughts, but my peace of mind as well. I’ve become quite acquainted to the unflattering, stark white walls thanks to my countless doctor appointments. The pen provided struggles being grasped by my sweaty hands, making it seemingly impossible to fill the medical papers out. My stomach churns with nausea because the nervousness for my results have worsened. I have become so accustomed to my habitual appointment routine that I no longer remember the angst I endured during the beginning of my doctor visits. This appointment feels different, though.

I was led into a room that oddly resembled a doctor's office. I blinked, glancing around. I wonder if this'll be just like a normal doctor's appointment. Part of me hoped it would be and that I would be free to go afterward. Another part of me highly doubted I'd be released to go home after this. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what was going on here, but whatever it was, it wasn't normal.

The response would take the course of me endeavouring to come with something I profoundly felt, nonetheless, I knew immediately it wasn’t true. I will always recall that significant moment when I realised what my sincere answer would be. The doctor sat opposite me and took her stethoscope from around her neck whilst sympathetically talking to me. When the doctors did what they did each time, it highly intrigued me, how they knew every precise step to take. Predominantly curiosity overcame me and this was an instance of it. To examine my breathing, the doctor put the ends of the stethoscope in her ears and the bell on my chest. She informed me to take deep, gentle breaths. I did as she said.

The room was full of doctors and trays with a lot of different tools. A doctor held my hand and said to me “I’m going to put a mask over your face that’s going to make you get sleepy, it’s going to smell like strawberries”, “I’m going to hold your hand until your sleep okay”?. At this point