Professionalism

I was late for clinical this Monday. I was supposed to be at the hospital at 6:30 AM (no, I didn't mistype it, it's 6:30 AM every Monday). I didn't hear my cell phone's alarm ringing, so I slept all the way to 7 o'clock, waking up only to the noise of the TV downstairs. Being nervous because that was really a disaster, I paged my instructor, told her what happened and rushed to the hospital. I was there by 8 o'clock and right then my instructor granted me the "sentence" for being late: a 3-page double-spaced paper about "professionalism" and the possibility of being downgraded by one letter grade in the final (an A will become a B, a B will become a C, and so on...)

That was so harsh a punishment for being late; I thought it was ridiculous actually.

However, there was one event happened that day that somehow made me think more about the word "professionalism."

Late in the afternoon, I had the opportunity to insert an NG tube on a real patient, not just on a manikin like I did in class. NG stands for nasogastric; an NG tube is a plastic tube that goes in the body by one of the nostrils, down the back of the mouth, through the throat, and then finally lands in the stomach. The other end of the tube can be connected to a suction machine that suck out all the grossly-looking greenish contents in the stomach.

Anyway, I collected all the materials that I would need and went through the steps of the procedures in my head. I inserted the tube in her nose; it went for about 4-5 inches when the patient started gaging and crying. These were just normal reactions from the patient, I knew that, but somehow I got shaken in my heart; I couldn't stand her crying. I pushed it in for about 2 more inches when the dentures of the patient fell out. I realized the tube got stuck around the dentures and all curled up in her mouth. I took the tube out and attempted to insert it again through the other nostril, but this time it stuck in the middle of the nose and the patient was screaming and crying bloody murder. At this time, I didn't have the nerve and the confidence to continue, so I surrendered and hang it over to my instructor. She tried, but still she couldn't do it. I called the charge nurse for help. The way she did it, I have to say it was a demonstration of professionalism. She was forceful and determined in her action, yet she was graceful to the patient. I just stood there with a cup of water in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other hand, speechless.

I gradually realized why the subject of the paper was "professionalism." I stick needles in my patients' skin. I put stuff down on their throats. I do all kinds of invasive things to them. I have to be responsible and professional in my roles, as I am trying to be a part of a big team, as I am determined to save, not to hamper, lives. It takes discipline, discipline, and discipline. I also realized why they made it so hard to get in (and out) nursing schools or medical schools; nobody would want an unprofessional nurse, or worse yet, an unprofessional doctor. We're talking about people's lives here.

I'll finish with my paper tomorrow. I also will protest about my grades being taken off, I've worked hard for it all semester.

At the end of the day, at 6:30 PM, my cell phone's alarm went off. Here is what happened: instead of scheduling it to go off at 6:30 AM, I mistaken and scheduled it at 6:30 PM. It didn't make any sound in the AM hours, no wonder I didn't hear it...Another lesson learned

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Have a good week, everyone!