Shall I start at this morning when I was running late because my sweet pup, Kid, decided to turn into a goat and eat half a berm of grass before puking on my ornate rug? I suppose that's just as good a spot as any.
But you know, the day wasn't all bad--at least not to begin with, in spite of my lack of hair conditioner or only one and a half armpits of anti-perspirant coverage.
But I find myself in a strange mindset--I'm defeated.
I just....sometimes I just don't know anymore.
It wasn't enough today, you know? Everything there was to give, just wasn't enough.
Crash over emergent heart--dissected like hell during cannulation. Died on the table. No amount of blood product made so much as a dent. We worked so hard--I can't even put to words what the room was like--blood all over the floor, all over me, anesthesia--looked like a slaughter house--felt like a slaughter house. How hot the room was--so unbearably hot-- in order to help with clotting, bleeding, survival. I slipped on plege, tripped over the bypass tubing. Broke my left foot. Patient still died.
Wrapped up my work day by picking bird-shot out of a child's abdomen. She was down for so long...too long. We coded her for over an hour. I, personally, broke at least three of her ribs. Over sixty units of blood product later, she made it--to what end....I don't know.
These are the type of days we all dread. This is where some part of me knows it will pass.
