Stories From Under A Bootheel (Rants, Laughs, and Tears)

Chapter 8 Not Always Black and White Part 2 Romalis

"I'm telling you I have a real problem with needles," the patient in bed one tried to explain.

I'm thinking, 'who doesn't?' My own fear was not of getting stuck, my fear was of having to stick others. The thought of hurting people really bothered me. I guess it was an empathy thing. I was over that now, but I still remembered the first time I had to give a shot. I remember flinching even when practicing on an orange. I didn't realize you had to stick the needle in all the way to the hilt.  

The first time I gave a shot to an actual human. I was so stunned by what I had done that I let go of the syringe and just left it hanging in the poor guy's shoulder. The nurse supervising me could barely suppress her laughter saying, "You don't let go!" It just bobbed there until I could get a hold on it to finish the shot.

I was now working on a ward at Portsmouth Naval Hospital in Virginia which is where I was stationed after completing hospital corps training at Great Lakes Naval Hospital where I had learned to stick patients with impunity. I had come a long way since giving that first shot. Ironically, there is nothing like working in a hospital to dull your sense of empathy, at least for the minor pains and fears. The major stuff you see every day working in a hospital puts things in perspective. I actually enjoyed sticking people now and was amused by their fear.

It is five thirty in the morning on the general medicine ward I was assigned to. I've just started my morning rounds to check on patients at the end of my shift before I leave. I also had to get the morning blood work from the patients that required it.

The patient in the first bed had been admitted last night during the evening shift and before I came on at eleven P.M. They hadn't had time to get his blood work, so it was up to me. The hospital did have dedicated phlebotomists, but they were reserved for specialized cases. Because corpsmen have been trained to draw blood even under battlefield conditions, we would do the routine blood work just to stay proficient at it.

"I really do have a phobia," he persisted.

 I tied on a tourniquet, and smiled as I began feeling for a vein in his antecubital space (elbow pit). His veins were great. This was going to be easy.

"You will barely feel it. I'm pretty good at this," I assured him.

"I'm warning you. There is no telling how I will react."

"Just look away," I suggested as I swabbed the area with alcohol and got the needle ready giving the alcohol a few seconds to dry. I was certain I had seen every possible reaction to being stuck. I was wrong.

As soon as I pierced his skin, his arm began to contract. "Don't do that," I scolded him holding his arm down by leaning over on it. I looked up in time to see his eyes start to vibrate and then roll back into his head. I had never seen anything like this and was totally convinced this guy was having some sort of a seizure.

I withdrew the needle, pulled the tourniquet loose and told the patient in the next bed to keep an eye on bed one so I could go get the doctor. I ran to the room at the front of the ward where the "on call" intern slept. Doctor Gobien was probably the best intern I ever got to work with. He had told me the night before that he had had a really long day and to only wake him for emergencies. Needless to say, he was not in the best of moods when I woke him. 

"What is it Farley?" he grumbled. (Of course, he used my real last name, but I'm not giving that out.)

"The patient in bed one is having some sort of seizure!" I insisted.

"Tell me exactly what is happening," he commanded. He still hadn't gotten out of the bed yet.

"I went to draw his blood and his eyes rolled back into his head and he started shaking. He is totally unresponsive. You have to come see!" I was getting angry at the doctor's failure to see the urgency.