reflection

Regular readers (hello VPL! Edmonton! Dan!) will remember the debacle of last week; the patient who bled from his gut, code blued, was intubated and topped up with blood. And my egregious error of not PR-ing (bum-poking) him for a suspected bleed. And the ensuing thanks to various religious figures for his continued survival.

Anyways, he's back.

This poor gentleman has returned to Rehab for some more physio, some more therapy and a little more medical negligence.

He actually looks much better. His colour has improved (the result of keeping blood INSIDE his body) and his breathing has slowed (ditto). I am afraid to go near him.

Why do I bring this up? Cos I had a small mental breakdown this afternoon when reading his medical notes. My entry goes "Pt's breathing resolved, BP improved. Impression: panic attack, for review in am". The next entry goes "MET call".

Every single panic attack I see from now on will get a PR.

Every last one.

(I talked to my consultant about it and she said, "Sam, everyone has near misses. And everyone makes mistakes. And people get lost. You've got to push on, and don't worry too much about it.")

Now I'm drinking a beer on my sunny deck.

My job is messed up.