Here is a link to the U.S. Department of Labor's website detailing everything about the Surgical Technologist. I recommend you read "Nature of the Work" before finishing my post, as you will have a greater understanding of my experience.
Just so that you have an idea of how totally bizarre and rare my day was (even for a seasoned Tech), I will tell you about what my instructor had to say about it. I called him on his cell phone (isn't that awesome that he gives all his students his cell phone number?!) that night and he didn't answer; I didn't call him again until Friday afternoon two days later. I told him a much more detailed story than I am allowed to tell you (due to HIPAA patient privacy laws), and he said that the events I witnessed would've "shaken" him and he's been "scrubbing" for twelve years!
I will begin with some background information. My parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary the same week that I started clinical. They left for BYU to attend Education Week (I know - what a way to celebrate) on the morning of Monday the 18th. Therefore, my brothers and I were "stuck" babysitting my foster sister Janessah (she's 4 years old) all week; we each had different day assignments.
Tuesday had been designated as my older brother Cameron's day to babysit. Well, on Tuesday night, he had his friend KC over from West Valley City. He had brought over Little Caesar's pizza while the two were watching the Beijing Olympics. Well, Janessah came up to me just as I was about to go to my room and get ready for bed and asked me to help her get ready for bed (this includes getting her pajamas on, brushing her hair and her teeth, putting her lip gloss on, reading her one or two books, and laying by her in bed until she falls asleep). I knew it was Cameron's job, but I decided to be nice and started the process. As I was lying next to her in bed, Cameron came waltzing up the stairs yelling her name. I got up from her bed and told him that everything had been done. I was frustrated, to say the least, but I just wanted to be nice. I could've easily gone downstairs and told Cameron that she was ready for help in getting ready for bed, but because I didn't, I have no one to blame except myself.
Suffice it to say that I could not get to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about clinical because of all the unknowns involved. "What cases will I get to work on tomorrow? Who will my preceptor be? Am I really prepared?" - these were all thoughts running through my head until I finally fell asleep sometime between 2:30 and 3:00 a.m. (keep in mind that I wake up at 4:50 a.m.). Also keeping me awake was Janessah. She had asked KC earlier in the night to read her a book titled, There's a Monster in My Closet. I have no idea why she would want to listen to that story; my mom has "monster spray" (water in a spray bottle) that she sprays in my sister's closet before she goes to sleep, and Janessah has to see her spray it. The bottom line is: Janessah thinks there's a monster in her closet! Anyway, she kept waking up crying at fifteen-minute intervals throughout the night. I had to get out of bed and take care of her because Cameron was two floors below us in the basement and couldn't hear a thing!
Note: Most of the following has been edited in order to comply with HIPAA patient privacy laws. A name has been changed. Other information is entirely left out. I'm sorry; I would like to share every detail, but I don't want to get sued. I also want to respect the privacy and dignity of the patients whom I've served.
As a warning, the following paragraph contains some potentially nausea-inducing descriptions of a specific aspect of surgery.
"Debra" was assigned to be my preceptor. She had been assigned to a dang tiny O.R. that day. My first case was very simple. The surgeon made the incision with the Bovie (electrocautery; and let me tell you - the Bovie smells worse than anything I have ever smelled before. It smells like a mixture of diarrhea and vomit. Just think about it: you are smelling burning flesh!), then dissected through some tissue with a pair of scissors... All I am allowed to say from here is that the patient woke up screaming obscenities at the surgeon while kicking and throwing punches. Twice. It was one of those moments when you know that you are witnessing something no human should ever see or hear. "Debra" and the surgeon quickly tried to pin the patient down, and I moved the mayo stand out of the way. "Debra" shouted at me to remove the Bovie tip (if ally activated, the Bovie could start an O.R. fire and burn the patient). After the patient had calmed down, the surgeon simply said, "I'm done," and walked out of the room; he was ed at the anesthesiologist.
Because I had been shocked by the preceding case, my next case ended up being my worst so far. In preparing my table setup, I ally contaminated the edge of one of the instrument pans. "Debra" noted it and said that it was fine as long as I didn't touch the contaminated edge with the inner pan. Then "Debra" scrubbed in (meaning she had become sterile) and helped me with the rest of the table setup. After the setup was almost complete, I noticed that I had torn a small hole in the finger of one of my gloves. I showed "Debra" and she yelled at me for not double-gloving. The following videos detail a cardiovascular-specific back table setup, a surgical hand scrub, gowning & gloving yourself, and gowning & gloving another person:
For the second case, I had been assigned by the surgeon to hold the retractors, so I was looking straight into the incision. He was using the Bovie quite heavily, and the smell started to get to me; I was getting light-headed. This went on for a few minutes, and I just kept telling myself that I could do it. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths on more than one occasion. I guess that at one point I couldn't help it anymore and reflexively took a huge breath, which caught the attention of the surgeon, who said, "Are you okay?" I immediately said, while struggling to breathe, "No. No I'm not. I need to sit down." The nurse responded like a pro and had a chair right behind me in which I sat down. She was struggling to take off my gown; I was weak, limp, and pale, and my weight didn't help her much. Once she got it off, she said, "Uh-huh. Here we go." She turned the gown so that the inside of it was facing "Debra" and the surgeon and it was completely drenched and dripping with sweat. She put a cool wash cloth on my neck and told me to keep my head down.
While sitting there, I almost started crying. I felt like I could get away with at least a little bit of emotion because my head was down. I couldn't help but think, "What the heck am I doing here? How could this have turned out so badly? I know what I'm doing, so why am I have such a hard time doing it?" She leaned over and told me to not worry, that it happens to everyone, even residents. I honestly didn't care; I the residents! I knew that I was better than this, and it disappointed me so much. That's why I was crying.
After I had regained my composure, she told me to go to the lounge and get a cup of ice water and to drink it slowly. I was back in the O.R. in about ten minutes and the surgeon was suturing the wound close - which means the case was pretty much over. I was kind of relieved that I wouldn't have to scrub in again (at least for this same case), but I also felt like I had made myself look like an absolute idiot. I mean, what a great first impression to give these people! I knew that they were going to talk to their co-workers about the whole situation, and resigned myself to the fact that I shouldn't worry about that because it is something that I do not and cannot have control over. Suffice it to say, the next week one of the other students at my facility had told one of my peers on Trax that I had fainted on my first day. When I learned of this, I just rolled my eyes and knew that it wasn't true - and that was enough for me.
All I could think about throughout the day were Janessah and my mother. I just wanted to see them so badly. So, when I raced out of the building at just after 3:00 p.m. I immediately called my mother and talked to her for only a short bit, but she promised me that she would listen to me when she got home from Education Week.
The big problem with clinical is that, although I get off work at 3:00 p.m., I don't actually get home until 4:30 or 5:00 because I take UTA Trax and it takes forever. So, it was a pleasant surprise when I got home; my brothers and sister were waiting for to get home so that we could all go to dinner together (hurray for Panda Express and Arctic Circle shakes!). It was a welcome stress-free environment. I felt like I had been to Hell and back that day, and all I needed was some time with my family. That is the best thing that I have noticed about doing clinical: I have gained a greater appreciation for my family because they will love me no matter what, and they will be more patient with me than others will. I love my family deeply, and I can't imagine not having my own family in the future someday...
