Radical Nephrectomy: A Short Story

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Habersham County, Tom was feeling slightly nervous as he exited the staff lounge and entered the hustle and bustle of County Hospital’s ER to begin his first shift as an RN. The first few hours of his shift passed slowly as Tom mostly checked vital signs and listened to patients complain about various aches, pains, coughs, and sniffles. He realized that the attending physician, Dr. Greene, who was rather “old school” in general about how he interacted with nursing staff, wanted to start him out slowly. Tom knew, though, that the paramedics could bring in a trauma patient at any time.

Mary, the patient the study focuses on (surname withheld to uphold confidentiality), was chosen due to the writers involvement throughout the duration of her stay in hospital. The writer met Mary prior to her operation in theatre and was present for the duration of her operation. When Mary was admitted to ward L4 the writer was directly involved in Mary's care and discharge.

he AIDS hospice reeked from disease and neglect. On my first day there, after an hour of "training," I met Paul, a tall, emaciated, forty-year-old AIDS victim who was recovering from a stroke that had severely affected his speech. I took him to General Hospital for a long-overdue appointment. It had been weeks since he had been outside. After waiting for two and a half hours, he was called in and then needed to wait another two hours for his prescription. Hungry, I suggested we go and get some lunch. At first Paul resisted; he didn’t want to accept the lunch offer. Estranged from his family and seemingly ignored by his friends, he wasn’t used to anyone being kind to him — even though I was only talking about a Big Mac. When it arrived, Paul took his first bite. Suddenly, his face lit up with the biggest, most radiant smile. He was on top of the world because somebody bought him a hamburger. Amazing. So little bought so much. While elated that I had literally made Paul’s day, the neglect and emotional isolation from which he suffered disgusted me. This was a harsh side of medicine I had not seen before. Right then and there, I wondered, "Do I really want to go into medicine?"

Two treatments for nephrolithiasis are extracorporeal shock-wave lithotripsy and percutaneous nephrolithotomy. An extracorporeal shock-wave lithotripsy is a machine outside the body that pulverizes the stone using a concentrated ultrasound shock waves. A percutaneous nephrolithotomy is a small incision through the skin to create an opening into the kidney to remove the stone.

Patient interaction, the art of diagnosis, and being able to witness improvement in patients’ conditions helped me to gain hands on experience. I have enjoyed learning from great teachers who taught me to think and who made the process of learning challenging. I particularly remember a 40year old male diabetic patient who suddenly became unconscious in the ward. My initial diagnosis of hypoglycemia was correct and the I.V dextrose given helped the patient recover immediately. The satisfaction one experiences when a patient recovers from a near death to normal state is truly

The significance of this specific building is apparent from the moment you enter its domain. The door, witch is not shaped like a door you will find in an average office building or home, is designed to be deliberately dark, narrow,

My supervisor, one of the head nurses, hurriedly pulled me to the corner of the bleach white hospital room and directed me to put on gloves, an eye mask, and a face mask. I felt as if I was preparing for war as I put on all of the required gear. The sound of expensive shoes click-clacked down the hallway indicating the arrival of two doctors who rushed into the room and shouted out orders to the staff while pulling the doors to the room shut along with the curtains. Two doctors, eight nurses, an intern, and a dying patient squeezed into the already claustrophobic ten by fifteen-foot room. The machine monitoring the patient’s vital signs continued to beep incessantly as my heart rate accelerated. Throughout my internship, I had never seen a patient in critical condition until that moment. I remembered my teacher’s advice if we were ever in a situation such as this: take a few deep breaths and sit down if you feel like you’re going to pass out. In that

There was a strong pungent of disinfectants and rubbing alcohol as she was rushed into the lobby. Crying out her last breath to express her agonizing pain as she lied down on the cold gurney. The nurses in a light blue uniform quickly arrived as several doctors in long white gowns rushed to the scene. Her mother was by her side, holding her hands as tight as she could, as the nurses pushed the agitating gurney towards the automatic doors. Soon her visions blurred and as the world turned into a tint of pink and red. As her vision slowly darkened, she solely relied on the touch of her mother’s warm hand and her soothing voice. Notwithstanding the tight grip of her mother’s hands, they was soon torn apart. Fear took over her body as she cried even louder. The sudden yet rhythmic beep was the last memory she could recall. It was March 5th.

Dale Gordon has been a patient in the ICU for 6 days after developing complications after open heart surgery. He is an 82-year-old African American who is disoriented to place and time. He lives with his daughter Claudia in her home. Claudia and her two brothers visit Mr. Gordon daily since he has been hospitalized. Mr. Gordon has not been eating well since the surgery and has lost 3 pounds. Mr. Gordon has type 2 diabetes and is on oral antihyperglycemic medication. Before he came to the hospital, Mr. Gordon was able to only ambulate for short distances. He has orders to get up in a chair twice a day. Joan, a student nurse, is caring for Mr. Gordon this morning. She has reviewed his medical record and is now ready to start caring for him.

Over time, I began connecting many of the patients, visitors and staff at the hospital. It became clear that caring does not always mean diagnosing, prescribing, and waiting. One night there was a woman in the emergency room with two policemen standing outside her door. Her

This was the same patient that I had delivered warm blankets to, that I was face-to-face with earlier before knowing of his condition. At that moment the reality of impermanence hit me. I saw how the incurability of a disease and medicine merged and how real the problems that medicine seeks to resolve truly are. I was thirty feet away from a dying man and five feet away from a doctor trying to wrestle with the man’s eventual death. To many, this experience would have been depressing, a dream-crusher that showed the shortcomings of medicine’s ability to stop death in its tracks. However, this experience of being close to medicine and death at once was an experience that humbled me, an experience that called me closer towards my desire to do all that I can to heal through medicine.

After a week working in the hospital, I went on home visits with nurses, doctors, nutritionists, psychologists and a monk. The first patient lives in a shabby wooden house. A great contrast could be seen between the room that the patient lives in and the rest of the house. “The patient is diagnosed with prostate cancer with bone metastasis. The room is specially built for him by the hospital and his family. He won’t live long.” A nurse told me. On another visit, I met a man with esophagus cancer.

She looked pale, lethargic, and dishevlled sitting in her wheelchair. The pungent odor from her 2 week old gauge was beginning to fill the room. It was clear she was suffering from a medical condition which was being poorly managed. Omar Staples,PA-C removed the bandages and the once fluid filled lesions had burst open and the contents were permeating the gauge causing a decaying odor. This patient was suffering from cutaneous complications due to poor management of her diabetes. Watching Omar talk to her while he was changing her bandages allowed me to observe why patients felt more relaxed and comfortable about sharing their health care concerns with him. I felt a deep sense of empathy for this patient that I had felt before as an undergraduate volunteering with the 'Adopt-a-grand person ' program. As project coordinator I worked to alleviate the loneliness among senior citizens in various nursing homes within New Orleans through games, arts & crafts, and friendly conversation.

I found myself in another room too small for the amount of people in it. The stale smell that clung to the latex of medical equipment offered a resurfacing of bitter inconclusive memories. White coats with clipboards shined lights in my eyes and prodded at my body. They rattled off the questions that had become all too familiar to me and I recited the same lines I have been for the past 13 years...

Flashing red and blue lights accompanied by an alarming siren in the distance is signaled when the double doors of the emergency room burst open. Pushed by several nurses, doctors, and other medical staff, a lone hospital stretcher with a bloody, wounded patient flies through the medical center towards the doors to the operating room. This image is what generally comes to mind when you think about an emergency room. Many people believe that the hospital’s emergency room is a dark and scary place. While this is true, the common misconception is that the emergency room is a place clear of humor, when in reality humor is present, even necessary, for many reasons. Many television shows, like the show ER, are based in the setting of the