Blog 70 My Best and Worst Work Days

(Old School versus New School)

By the time I took the position in Albemarle, I had over twenty years experience. So, I considered myself as “old school”. Since my job required using radiation that I injected into patients, there was plenty of paperwork involved on a daily basis. We, also, had to keep a special log book with many demands from the two agencies that control proper methods expected to be followed by the state you work in and the overriding national control known as “OSHA”. Either facility had the right to inspect our hospital and it’s departments without even giving you notification. The Radiology department was always heavily inspected for its use with radiation and licenses. Anyone in your department was expected to know what was asked of them.

When I began learning Nuclear Medicine, for many years we did not use computers. Everything was manual. The studies, the calibrations of the radiation used, upkeep of patient records, and all our patient data were written by hand. You basically could not leave a patient unattended. Now we have computers that keep the records and run the cameras without you having to stand near the patient as long,(to decrease the exposure to radiation), and we do not use x-ray film because the picture is done on a computer and can be transferred through the computer or placed on a disc.

In 2004, the hospital’s Human Resources decided to put in new computers throughout the hospital so they were all working through a master network. For “safe keeping”, they decided to pull everyone’s daily records off of their computers and “store” them in one database. I was very uneasy with this idea because our information needed to be at our reach at any given time. So, I still kept written records in 2004 and keep them stored in my department. They said I was wasting my time.

One day in early 2005, the Radiology director and the Human Resource director entered my room and were quite concerned. They told me the computer that had my 2004 data had glitched and they had no knowledge of my department’s information and that they could not bring them up. They were just gone. They told me that I immediately needed to begin going back in my computer and reenter them. I just smiled and stood up from my seat, went to my cabinet and pulled out a log labeled 2004. I asked if this was the information that they lost and he said yes. I told them that when the inspectors come around, I could just show them the books and after they found their glitch, I would stop my manual books and leave it up to them after that was done. You only have to keep logs to the date they get inspected. You kept patient records for 3-5 years depending on the states requirement. My director smiled and gave me an “attaboy”. I never saw the HR director after the problem was fixed. I was on cloud nine.

The worst day came when after all the years that I never gave a patient the wrong injection, without covering the details of how it happened, I finally did inject the wrong dose. I started the day with a tug-of-war with a doctor because he could not make up his mind if he wanted to do a heart study on an inpatient, which I would need to do before starting my patient. Another patient arrived for an injection, as well. By the time all the hoopla finished, I had changed the dose in my container about 5 times. I lost my concentration and forgot to change the syringe and injected the patient before I knew what I was doing.

Injecting someone with the wrong radiation is a very serious thing to do. First, I had to tell the Radiologist, since he is ultimately responsible for me to give radiation to a patient, so he needed to be the one to tell the patient. The patient had to reschedule his appointment for at least for 48 hours. An incident report had to be written and given to management. And I had to sit through a meeting with management deciding how I could prevent this from happening again. So, this was not so bad.(YET)

About three hours later, I had a patient that weighed 425 pounds. I was by myself at the time. When the patient was finished with their study, it was my responsibility to walked them out. It was a long hallway and chairs for patients on each side. The man was walking in front of me. Suddenly, one of the people in the chairs yells out that the man was passing out. I quickly got behind him to brace him, but his weight was just too much and he kept falling backwards against me. I turned us both so my back was against the wall and slid all the way to the ground. No one got up to help. Before I knew it, the man was on top of me and had me pinned underneath him.

I asked someone to yell out “code green in ultrasound hallway”. This means a non-emergency needs assistance. Medical people came out of all the rooms and it was announced over the intercom. So, who do I see standing there with others trying to get me out from under him? Of course it was the same management person that I had reported my wrongful injection. And, yes, another incident report had to be filed. I could see the look in his eyes as they got me out. I walked back to my room and bawled like a little child. Even though I had nothing to do with the patient fainting, he was my responsibility and I had to write the report. That was my first day that I ever had to write an incident report in over twenty years, and these two happened the same day. “I’m just getting too old for this crap!!”

(Once is not enough)

The one thing no one is ever prepared for is THAT PHONE CALL. It happened again. While in Albemarle, there were five deaths back home. My brother, Darrell. My closest Uncle, my cousin, my paternal grandmother, and my father. I will discuss my father. The first call I for him was that he was on life support due to a stroke and was not expected to make it. I went home for three days to help take care of my mother and say goodbye to my father. However, he survived, but was never the same.

The second time I was called to say he was back on life support and would NOT survive. I had to stay at work until his death and then I took a week off. Ironically, I actually had both a peace about it and a sinking feeling that he was not in heaven. (I never cried for my father.) Instead, we took the week cleaning my mother’s home and prepared it for her to take care of it for herself. Somehow, my oldest brother and his crew stayed at the house with her. It was not long before the house was in shambles, again.

The saddest thing was that they “chose” to live the way they did and I was very embarrassed and ashamed. I only went to that house three more times after that.

(Blog 71)