Another night shift, another blog post. I spend most of my time and energy trying to avoid looking at the clock. As the old adage goes, a watched pot never boils.
The average age in the ER tonight is 18. Not our usual geriatric clinic, but our usual vague symptoms with no diagnosis to be had. What’s with the youth these days? It’s Saturday night, the feelin’s right, and half the population between 15 and 30 chose to visit the ER tonight instead of raving or drinking or huffing or whatever young people do on Saturday nights.
Buuuut, I do have a straight forward case. Sort of. First, I need to preface this with a glossary of terms:
Pannus: The apron of loose skin, tissue and fat that occurs in the lower portion of the abdominal wall
Suprapubic Catheter: A suprapubic catheter (tube) drains urine from your bladder. Rather than being inserted through the urethra, it is inserted into your bladder through a small hole in your belly.
Young lady had her suprapubic catheter cut while her boyfriend was changing her dressing (Why she has a catheter is beyond the scope of this blog). She came in leaking urine from the lacerated catheter. Simple enough. Pull the old one, put in a new one, right? But I was forewarned that I had to measure the depth of insertion beforehand because it needed to go through about 12 inches of pannus. Turned out to be easy enough by comparing the spot from the old catheter and marking it on the new one. There was a little resistance, but a little lube fixed that. She was actually my easiest and most pleasant patient of the night.
Praise Allah for easy fixes!
In between saving the future of America from the ills of minor discomfort, The Creeper was brought to my attention. As one the nurses aptly stated, “So they do have a name for that thing you do.” Yes, folks. I’ve put this on my list of dances to master, along with the dances from Napolean Dynamite, Can’t Buy Me Love, and Thriller. I’m breaking it out at the next wedding. If that animated GIF at the top bothers you, you should stop looking at it.