Today, I took all three patients on my own. Well, not on my own completely: my preceptor was there to help me out if I needed it, and she did help me quite a bit. Because she is a rock star.
I did have one very memorable guy under my care today: a motorcycle accident that left my patient with this huge chunk taken out of his arm. He's resting in bed, having been informed over and over again that his arm will never work again and needs to be amputated or else will become so infected that he would die from the infection. He roundly refuses each time. Instead, he sports a huge dressing and a metal rod fixator. He is covered with all sorts of interesting tattoos: naked people in acrobatic poses, swastikas, weapons, you name it. He's pretty weak from everything, but he still growls at you when you walk in. Here's my favorite conversation with him today:
"Hi, Mr. ____. Do you want some more of your Gatorade?"
(slurred) "You're all trying to kill me, I know it." (then motions for Gatorade)
"No, we're trying to get you better so you can go home. But you know we can't let you go home just yet, right? There's a big metal fixator coming out your arm to keep it still."
(scowls)"I know that."
(pause while I mess with his IV pump)
"Look honey... c'mere. Listen to me. I mean, really listen to me. I've got $300 right here in my pocket," (motions to bare ass) "and it's all yours if you just drive me home, okay? Drive me home."
"Hmmmm. No, I don't think so."
(look of disgust and shock) "Well, why not?"
"I'm not that cheap, sir."
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