It was just another weekday at the Clinic. Which meant that while there were quiet times, there were also busy times, and right now they were right in the middle of one of those busy times. The staff, at times, seemed to be run ragged, and yet they endured everything with the patient humour that seems to characterise the staff of any healing institution.
Sofia Hoffman, a newly qualified nurse, had found herself assigned to the Treatment Area, and was somehow managing to keep on top of things. Together with two other, more experienced nurses, and two nursing assistants, they were just about keeping the level of the pile of notes at the same height, despite the constant movements of Healers and doctors in and around the area.
She glanced up from the computer, where she was just finalising the discharge notes of one freshly dealt with patient. Those notes would be sent to the reception computer for the final discharge, and then printed to be stored in the Record Rooms. Across the Area, curtains were drawn around most of the guerneys, providing at least the illusion of privacy, if not the actual fact, for the patients within. There were very few groans or moans of pain in here - by the time a patient reached the Treatmeat Area, their pain had usually already been dealt with.
Her eyes fell on the pile of notes beside her. The doctor assigned to them this morning had blazed through the current stock of patients who were under his jurisdiction, prescribing treatments and medicines. The top sheet caught her eye. Boldly across the top was written; FOR TRANSFER TO RIVERVIEW. Which meant this was a child, and while the Shambles Clinic was well-equipped, they weren't specialised enough to diagnose and treat a child to a high standard.
She sighed, picking up the notes and flicking through them. A faint wince across her face as she scanned the rough drawings of the injury, and the descriptions. What it all boiled down to was a compound fracture of the left tibia, and a reluctance on the part of the medical staff here to try and set it straight, due to its proximity to the femural artery.
"Nasty," she murmured to herself. All the doctor had been able to prescribe was tougher pain killers, and a specific method of bandaging the leg, all in order to stablise the boy until an ambulance could be procured to take him across to the children's clinic.
"Does anyone have the keys?" she called - it was an automatic thing now. All the medications were kept in locked cupboards and fridges behind the nurses' station, and the keys had to be with a member of the nursing staff at all time. Which meant the keys often wandered off, understandably.
The reply came that yes, Jordie had the keys, and the senior nurse on duty with her, a cheerful man in his late forties, appeared around a curtain, jingling them. He passed them over, and Sofia turned to unlock the cupboards, careful to count out only what she would need.
Thankfully, Jordie had stayed to do his notes, so she had someone handy to check out the morphine the doctor had prescribed with her. Standard practise - all controlled drugs had to be signed out by two members of staff. It prevented anyone developing a bad habit.
Smiling to her senior, Sofia loaded up a dressings' trolley with everything she needed, and moved out from behind the station, calling for one of the nursing assistants to help her. Joined by Liesl, she headed for her patient.
The boy was lying down, his pale face stark against the ivory pillow slip, holding his mother's hand tightly. As she stepped in, Sofia kept her smile up - a good bedside manner extended right the way to everyone who worked in the clinic, not just the medical staff.
"Hello, Boyd," she greeted the boy, who couldn't have been more than thirteen, and nodded a smile to his mother, speaking to both of them. "I'm Sofia, I'm a nurse; this is Liesl, she'll be helping me. The doctor has told you of the move, yes?" There was a general indication that yes, he had. Sofia nodded again, her hands busily cleaning themselves and disinfecting with alcohol spray as she spoke.
"He's prescribed you a very strong pain killer, which I am going to give you now," she explained, pulling on bright purple vinyl gloves. "And when that's taken effect, Liesl and I are going to change the bandages on your leg and make you ready to travel. Is that alright?"
The boy glanced at his mother and, emboldened by her nod, nodded as well, though he kept himself very much tight-lipped. Sofia had already loaded the syringe with the morphine, and the sister drug that would prevent the morphine making the boy nauseous. There was no need for a needle; Liesl had already inserted a small catheter into the boy's arm, in case he would need fluids or medicine delivered this way.
Flipping the cap of the IV catheter, Sofia inserted the syringe. "Alright, Boyd, I want you to tell me when it stops hurting, okay? We don't have to use all of this right now; we can save some of it for later."
As she depressed the syringe, she watched the colour flood back into Boyd's cheeks, and wasn't surprised when only 3 milligrams later, he nodded and said the pain was gone. Removing the still half-loaded syringe, she capped it, and closed the IV catheter, smiling at the lad in the bed. "We'll give that a little time to properly sink in," she explained, "and then we'll get to work on your leg."
Evidently, her confidence was rubbing off on the boy and his mother, who were both relaxing. Although the morphine probably had more to do with that in the boy's case, Sofia smiled to herself. As they were waiting for the morphine to fully take hold, she explained to Liesl, as well as to the patient, what it was they were going to do, both nurse and nursing assistant changing gloves and washing their hands once again. They opened the sterile dressings, ready for use, making sure to keep it all untouched, and set out a bag for the soiled bandages.
It was slow going, changing bandages and pads around a wound in which the bone was stick jaggedly up through the skin, and several times they had to pause. While morphine was a good painkiller, nothing was infallible, and there were always going to be a few twinges as the limb was moved around. By the time they were done, Boyd was looking pale again, and Sofia was only too happy to be able to change her gloves once again and administer what was left of the morphine to settle him down again.
As Liesl tidied everything away, disposing of the used bits and pieces safely, Sofia explained again to the boy and his mother what to expect next. With any luck, the ambulance for the transfer would be coming within the next hour, and she, or one of the other nurses, would travel across the city with them to handover the case to the staff on duty at Riverview. She finished the explanation with an offer to the mother of something to eat, Boyd already lolling in the grip of the morphine and falling asleep. The offer was refused, but she smiled as she left the little cubicle.
When the ambulance arrived, she was with another patient, and only had time to offer the boy a wave as Jordie took over the case, moving to take him and his mother to the better equipped facility for his needs. Still, Sofia grinned as she turned back to her current patient, who grinned back at her, oblivious to the debriding of her leg ulcers thanks to the magical pain block one of the Healers had administered. Everything this morning was going completely to plan.
Sofia Hoffman, a newly qualified nurse, had found herself assigned to the Treatment Area, and was somehow managing to keep on top of things. Together with two other, more experienced nurses, and two nursing assistants, they were just about keeping the level of the pile of notes at the same height, despite the constant movements of Healers and doctors in and around the area.
She glanced up from the computer, where she was just finalising the discharge notes of one freshly dealt with patient. Those notes would be sent to the reception computer for the final discharge, and then printed to be stored in the Record Rooms. Across the Area, curtains were drawn around most of the guerneys, providing at least the illusion of privacy, if not the actual fact, for the patients within. There were very few groans or moans of pain in here - by the time a patient reached the Treatmeat Area, their pain had usually already been dealt with.
Her eyes fell on the pile of notes beside her. The doctor assigned to them this morning had blazed through the current stock of patients who were under his jurisdiction, prescribing treatments and medicines. The top sheet caught her eye. Boldly across the top was written; FOR TRANSFER TO RIVERVIEW. Which meant this was a child, and while the Shambles Clinic was well-equipped, they weren't specialised enough to diagnose and treat a child to a high standard.
She sighed, picking up the notes and flicking through them. A faint wince across her face as she scanned the rough drawings of the injury, and the descriptions. What it all boiled down to was a compound fracture of the left tibia, and a reluctance on the part of the medical staff here to try and set it straight, due to its proximity to the femural artery.
"Nasty," she murmured to herself. All the doctor had been able to prescribe was tougher pain killers, and a specific method of bandaging the leg, all in order to stablise the boy until an ambulance could be procured to take him across to the children's clinic.
"Does anyone have the keys?" she called - it was an automatic thing now. All the medications were kept in locked cupboards and fridges behind the nurses' station, and the keys had to be with a member of the nursing staff at all time. Which meant the keys often wandered off, understandably.
The reply came that yes, Jordie had the keys, and the senior nurse on duty with her, a cheerful man in his late forties, appeared around a curtain, jingling them. He passed them over, and Sofia turned to unlock the cupboards, careful to count out only what she would need.
Thankfully, Jordie had stayed to do his notes, so she had someone handy to check out the morphine the doctor had prescribed with her. Standard practise - all controlled drugs had to be signed out by two members of staff. It prevented anyone developing a bad habit.
Smiling to her senior, Sofia loaded up a dressings' trolley with everything she needed, and moved out from behind the station, calling for one of the nursing assistants to help her. Joined by Liesl, she headed for her patient.
The boy was lying down, his pale face stark against the ivory pillow slip, holding his mother's hand tightly. As she stepped in, Sofia kept her smile up - a good bedside manner extended right the way to everyone who worked in the clinic, not just the medical staff.
"Hello, Boyd," she greeted the boy, who couldn't have been more than thirteen, and nodded a smile to his mother, speaking to both of them. "I'm Sofia, I'm a nurse; this is Liesl, she'll be helping me. The doctor has told you of the move, yes?" There was a general indication that yes, he had. Sofia nodded again, her hands busily cleaning themselves and disinfecting with alcohol spray as she spoke.
"He's prescribed you a very strong pain killer, which I am going to give you now," she explained, pulling on bright purple vinyl gloves. "And when that's taken effect, Liesl and I are going to change the bandages on your leg and make you ready to travel. Is that alright?"
The boy glanced at his mother and, emboldened by her nod, nodded as well, though he kept himself very much tight-lipped. Sofia had already loaded the syringe with the morphine, and the sister drug that would prevent the morphine making the boy nauseous. There was no need for a needle; Liesl had already inserted a small catheter into the boy's arm, in case he would need fluids or medicine delivered this way.
Flipping the cap of the IV catheter, Sofia inserted the syringe. "Alright, Boyd, I want you to tell me when it stops hurting, okay? We don't have to use all of this right now; we can save some of it for later."
As she depressed the syringe, she watched the colour flood back into Boyd's cheeks, and wasn't surprised when only 3 milligrams later, he nodded and said the pain was gone. Removing the still half-loaded syringe, she capped it, and closed the IV catheter, smiling at the lad in the bed. "We'll give that a little time to properly sink in," she explained, "and then we'll get to work on your leg."
Evidently, her confidence was rubbing off on the boy and his mother, who were both relaxing. Although the morphine probably had more to do with that in the boy's case, Sofia smiled to herself. As they were waiting for the morphine to fully take hold, she explained to Liesl, as well as to the patient, what it was they were going to do, both nurse and nursing assistant changing gloves and washing their hands once again. They opened the sterile dressings, ready for use, making sure to keep it all untouched, and set out a bag for the soiled bandages.
It was slow going, changing bandages and pads around a wound in which the bone was stick jaggedly up through the skin, and several times they had to pause. While morphine was a good painkiller, nothing was infallible, and there were always going to be a few twinges as the limb was moved around. By the time they were done, Boyd was looking pale again, and Sofia was only too happy to be able to change her gloves once again and administer what was left of the morphine to settle him down again.
As Liesl tidied everything away, disposing of the used bits and pieces safely, Sofia explained again to the boy and his mother what to expect next. With any luck, the ambulance for the transfer would be coming within the next hour, and she, or one of the other nurses, would travel across the city with them to handover the case to the staff on duty at Riverview. She finished the explanation with an offer to the mother of something to eat, Boyd already lolling in the grip of the morphine and falling asleep. The offer was refused, but she smiled as she left the little cubicle.
When the ambulance arrived, she was with another patient, and only had time to offer the boy a wave as Jordie took over the case, moving to take him and his mother to the better equipped facility for his needs. Still, Sofia grinned as she turned back to her current patient, who grinned back at her, oblivious to the debriding of her leg ulcers thanks to the magical pain block one of the Healers had administered. Everything this morning was going completely to plan.