"pray to the sbft gods"

I can't believe I haven't written on this blog in so long. I just spent the last 45 minutes reading through every post I've had, and sorely regret not writing about my life up to this point for nostalgia's sake. Reading through May/June 2008, I am reminded of my stay in Uganda. Needless to say, I miss the shit out of Gulu. I would be lying if I said I wasn't envious of the four GlobeMed at UNC GROW students who are there now. To be in their position, learning my first words of Luo, eating my first steak sandwich at Kope Cafe, feeling the freedom of being on a boda on a dirt road that goes to nowhere... vows to return will hopefully be upheld.
-------------------------

Today, I had clinical rotations for Radi Sci in the UNC Fluoroscopy department. At around 1:30 PM, I found myself writing the word "cursed" in tall, capital letters on the dry erase board in the work area, much to the amusement of the surrounding techs. A 5+ hour small bowel follow through had finally fallen into my hands, after my somewhat smooth-sailing beginner's luck of having highly peristaltic patients pass through my hands. I walked into the department this morning with my MCAT Chemistry book in hand with a complimentary copy of "Carolina Woman" in the other, thinking that there would be a lot of time to perch and wait during the small bowel follow through (sbft's) and modified barium swallows that covered the appointment board. The purpose of an SBFT is to visualize the patient's small bowel (duh). In order to do that, I have to politely request/ask/coax/beg/strongly urge patients to finish a grueling 3 cups of barium (contrast) in order for their intestines to be lit up with contrast on the x-rays. The barium can get to the large intestine within 30 minutes on some patients, and at the expense of some radi sci techs, upwards of 4 hours for others. Grumpy, 350 lbs., and with a newly placed NG tube in her nose, my inpatient this morning greeted me at 8:10 AM with a grunt instead of a "how are you?", and a roll on to her side away from me instead of a wave. As much as she didn't want to be on that table for the SBFT, I would have rather been deep asleep in bed, wrapped up under my duvet, not knowing that the light of day even existed. Nevertheless, there I was, in the dimly lit room, permanently stained with the smell of a bizarre mixture of barium, coffee, alcohol wipes, and fresh linen.

Though the scout abdomen showed that the NG tube had to be advanced 10 cm further into her stomach, the patient responded to consultations with violent shakes of the head and guttural refusals. She warned me that she might have to throw up (great!), but that she would try her best to keep the barium down. I approached her with a large amount of caution, but she soon eased my nerves after bluntly letting me know that I looked like I was 15, that she thought I was pretty, and that her "crazy ass" sister had sweetly nicknamed her hernia "EB" for "elephant baby". My back is still sore after being used as an anchor to help her sit up and lie down on the table, which is expected after she reached both arms around me to pull me close into a bear hug in order to get her bearings about 3423960 times. Not only could my small frame not withstand the straining, but contact precautions were in order and I made quite the fashion statement in my yellow gown that reached down to the floor. I got faked out several times over the next 3 hours, thinking that the barium had reached down to her cecum, but no. Five. Freaking. Hours. 5 hours for the barium to get to where we needed in order to move onto spot films. Late lunch, but the short half hour I had in the sunshine calmed me down and relieved my stressed senses.

After work: 30 minutes of shut-eye, an intense 1 hour kickboxing workout, a bowl of ramen, and Vicky Cristina Barcelona with some friends and one seriously hyperactive pup. :)