The Surgery Insomniacs - Softcover

Sanberg Jr., R.N. Rolfe C.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1449013163 ISBN 13: 9781449013165

Publisher: AuthorHouse, 2009

Synopsis

The Surgery Insomniacs: A story about a surgery nurse named Wolf who has a fast paced and unpredictable life that is non stop and filled with such intensity you have to breathe oxygen from a tank just to turn the pages.

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The Surgery Insomniacs

By Rolfe C. Sanberg, Jr.

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Rolfe C. Sanberg, Jr.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-1316-5

Chapter One

Beginning

Time had passed. And situations were different. I was staring at a glass of red wine and made a decision to write this all down. You see, I feel some stories should be told.

Over ten years ago, I worked long hours as a registered nurse in surgery. Though my name is Wolf, my co-workers sometimes called me Wolfy.

It was at some point back then, that I belonged to an informal club. We were the "surgery insomniacs." The club belonged to no one person. The club's membership often changed.

Rank was determined by the dark circles under one's eyes.

We didn't inquire as to the personal reasons for each others' sleepless nights. We didn't have to; we understood people, and we understood each other.

As I write this, most of the club's members, including myself, are leading different lives, far from the previous lives we once led. But I know all of us sometimes awaken in the middle of the night and wonder what the other members of the group are doing now. You can't help but sometimes wonder.

The Tattooed Lady

Back then, on days that I wasn't scheduled to work in surgery, I sometimes moonlighted at a hospital for ventilator-dependant patients-patients that are indebted to a breathing machine for their last inhalations and exhalations on earth.

It was there that I took care of a patient named Vivian. She was a 91-year-old woman in a coma on a ventilator, who was alone and dying. She had no family, no friends, and no visitors. She was forgotten. Though sad, this was not an uncommon ending for many patients at this type of hospital.

But Vivian was very different in another way. Her body was a masterpiece of tattoo art that flowed endlessly and cohesively from head to toe and front to back. Only her face remained untouched. But interlaced colors and textures swirled about her, depicting stories, chapters, places, moments, and characters. I got the feeling these were all people, places and moments from her past and that these tattoos represented her life's story ... her autobiography.

Though the ink's color was now faded much like an older person's memory of things past, I imagine it was once as brilliant as her life was during her youth.

The first time I took care of her, I remember being so taken aback at the sight of her tattoos. I sat at her bedside as the ventilator pumped and hissed. Though she was in a coma and at a point of no return, I spoke to her as if she could hear me and understand me. I said, "Vivian, I wish I had met you earlier in life. I would have really liked to have known you. I'll bet there is a story behind each and every one of your tattoos. Were you the tattooed lady in a circus? Or were you in a motorcycle gang? Who were you? Where have you been? Whom did you love? Who were your friends? What happened? Where did it all go? I would have written it all down for you and told your story."

I remember thinking, if only she could sit up and speak like in some Edgar Allen Poe story. But this was real life, no Poe drama.

Over the next few weeks, she just lay there motionless in a coma, slowly leaving this life, never to emerge to tell her story.

The day she died, I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. One Saturday, I was looking for a cup of coffee when the morning nurse informed me of her passing. I thought to myself, "I would just like to pay my last respects to Vivian."

I was just down the hall from her room when the sound of my beeper commanded my immediate attention. I glanced at the number on the pager. It was the surgery department at Circle Hospital where I worked full-time. I walked over to the nurses' station and used their phone to call the number. Back then, cell phones were still evolving, and I had left mine in the car. In truth, I was still getting used to the idea of using and carrying one.

The surgery department secretary answered the phone. I knew the voice: it was Carmine. Carmine was an attractive Italian woman with a heart of gold and a mouth like a truck driver.

I said, "Carmine, "it's me, Wolf. Did you page me?" She replied, "You got an emergency crani (craniotomy) on some little kid coming up from the E.R.!" I responded, "I'll be there in five minutes."

I hung up the phone and told my co-workers that I had an emergency. "I have to go!" I was running down the stairs before I finished the sentence. In less than 60 seconds, I was on North Avenue en route to Circle Hospital. When I left, the nurses said a prayer for the one we all came to know as the tattooed lady.

When her essence of life no longer flowed, they carefully wrapped her body and had it removed to the Cook County morgue. Her life's story, which was written in tattoos, was now a book closed forever. I thought about Vivian sometimes over the years. That was life. The things that were, and the things that remain ... sort of.

In less than four minutes after I hung up with Carmine, I parked my car at the Circle Hospital E.R. entrance and ran in. As I hurried through the E.R., I spoke with the craniotomy patient and her parents, and then retrieved the remaining information from the house supervisor.

The little kid- a 12-year-old named Heidi with long black hair and green eyes- needed a craniotomy because of a baseball accident. A baseball bat had slipped from the batter's hands and hit her on the side of the head. She was still wearing her baseball uniform, and though she was tomboyish, she wore a necklace with a pink unicorn on it.

I passed her teammates in the hospital waiting area, and then ran upstairs and into the locker room. (In my mind, I was thinking about what was needed for the case.) And I was thinking that I still didn't get that cup of coffee. It was Saturday morning and I was pretty confident that Carmine had some waiting. I was also confident that the emergency craniotomy case cart with all the necessary supplies was waiting in the sterile room. After all, I had seen it the previous night when I was working with the rest of the surgery insomniacs on two trauma cases.

I changed into my scrubs and was about to open the door, which led to the O.R. lounge, which led to the control desk and surgical suites. And then I heard, "STOP!" I turned around and it was one of our security guards. His name was Burton, but it should have been Barney Fife. He said, "Do you work here?"

Now every security guard knows everyone on the surgical team. Every security guard except for Burton. My first thought was to be sarcastic and say, "No, I don't! I just happen to have the key to surgery, the combination to this locker with the name Wolf on it and...." But I didn't say any of that; I needed to hurry, so I just pulled out my I.D. and showed it to him and thanked him for checking. In truth, he was just trying to do his job.

He looked it over and said, "Ok!" I then headed through the door, and I could smell the coffee. But there just wasn't time to drink some.

I strode past the coffee pot in the lounge and hurried through the doorway to the control desk. Carmine's eyes met mine and she said, "Romeo's on his way, and Angelo is opening up the case in O.R. 1. Dr. Trams is in E.R. with Degas and they are bringing that kid up in five minutes!"

Dr. Tim Trams was the anesthesiologist on first call and Dr. Andrea Degas was the neurosurgeon on call.

I put on a mask and entered O.R. 1. Angelo said, "Hey, kid!" I replied, Hey, kid!" That was what Angelo, Romeo and I called each other most of the time ... "KID!" It got confusing for most of the O.R. staff because sometimes in conversation they didn't know which of the three kids anyone was talking about, kid 1, 2, or 3. Angelo was ten years older than me. And I was ten years older than Romeo. And new people didn't understand why everyone was calling three grown men kids.

Anyway, I started helping Angelo open sterile supplies. I said, "What else do we need?" He replied, "We need meds. And if Romeo isn't here in five minutes, you're gonna have to scrub and set this up."

Just then, Romeo stuck his head in the door and said, "KIDDDD!" We all replied, "KIDDDD!" I then said, "I'll throw your gloves. Go scrub!" Romeo replied, "Ok, cool." To which I responded, "I'll go get the meds." Angelo replied, "I'll stay here and look good!"

I ran off to the medicine room while Angelo and Romeo continued with the rest of the preparations for the craniotomy procedure. Angelo was the rock of the O.R. He was the nurse that always showed up first. And he was the nurse that trained most of us. He was a family man who was once in the military. Though he was built like Rocky Marciano, he was a caring gentleman and a standup sort of a guy. I remember once I asked him, "How come we always have to do the big cases?" He replied, "Would you rather be the go-to-guy, or the guy that nobody wants to go to?" I answered him, "The go-to-guy!" He followed that with, "The go-to-guy does the big cases, kid."

As I was bringing back the meds, I could hear Angelo's and Romeo's infectious laughs all the way down the hall. Carmine looked at me, shook her head and said, "You guys are something else!" I replied, "What?" With that, she just shook her head again and said, "You know what!"

As I walked in with the meds, Romeo was in his sterile gown and gloves setting up the instruments. Romeo's real name was Tyrone. But everyone called him Romeo because of his reputation before he was married and had kids. Built like Joe Lewis the boxer, Romeo was charming, eloquent and a sharp dresser. Romeo was one of the best surgical techs I ever had the pleasure of working with. He could work through any obstacle and get cases set up lightning fast. Like Angelo, he was a gentleman and a stand-up sort of a guy. And like Angelo and myself, he was a surgery insomniac.

As I mixed the meds, I asked, "What were you guys laughing about?" (They were still kind of laughing.)

Romeo said, "Angelo told me what happened to you yesterday."

Wolf: [Smiling] "Oh, yeah, I couldn't believe that happened to me."

Angelo: "Tell him, kid!"

Wolf: "Unbelievable! Yesterday, after lunch, they tell me, quick, bring the thoracotomy trays to Room One. So I've got three heavy sterile instrument trays in my arms that I wasn't able to see over, and I'm hurrying to Room One. All of a sudden, my feet slid on something oily and wet, and literally, my feet and legs go flying up in the air and I ended up on my back with three heavy instrument trays on my chest. I look up at the ceiling and Fay appears over me and says, "Oh my God! Are you ok?" I reply, "What am I lying in?" She says, "You don't want to know. Trust me, you don't want to know ... it's ... it's vomit!"

"All I could think was EHHHH! YUK! I wanted to scream! I thought this couldn't be happening. How? This is surgery, damn it! And to make matters worse, I was pinned on my back in it, with three heavy trays on my chest".

As I'm re-telling the story, Angelo and Romeo start laughing again. But I just continued to tell the story. Fay asks me again, "Are you ok?"

Wolf: "Well, I'm lying here in someone's vomit and the stench is creeping into my nostrils. I asked, "Who vomited on the floor?" She said, "Tina. Tina vomited after lunch and was so embarrassed, instead of calling somebody to clean it up, she ran and hid."

Tina was a young, confused surgical tech whom I was not very fond of. And at that point I said, "Let's get these trays to Room One and then I'll go decontaminate myself."

Carmine's voice over the intercom interrupted our laughing. "They are in pre-op." [Preoperative holding area].

Angelo: [Speaking back to the intercom] "Ok!"

At this point, Angelo, Romeo and I put on our serious attitudes.

Romeo: "It must be serious, if they brought the patient up themselves."

Angelo: "Yeah, that's a first."

Wolf: "I'll go bring them back with the paperwork."

Angelo and Romeo: [In unison] "We'll stay here and look good!"

That routine line was one of many in our repertoire that we would recite every day, every week, all year long.

I greeted the patient and family in pre-op. I put on my usual confident swagger and said, "We are all set."

Dr. Trams was our chief anesthesiologist, and a damn good one at that. He also was a surgery insomniac. And just as important, he had a good sense of humor. He loved to joke about his not having much hair.

He was just finished speaking with the patient's parents when I said," And I am Wolf, I met you downstairs. I'm one of the nurses who will take care of Heidi in surgery." The parents were understandably anxious, but somewhat relieved after Dr. Degas conveyed her confidence that Heidi's surgery would go well and that this was something she would most likely recover well from. She said,

"Unlike us adults, children are more resilient. If all of us are optimistic, she will follow our cue."

I could see that the pupil in Heidi's right eye appeared to be dilated. And she seemed drowsier than before. These were signs and symptoms that indicated her subdural hematoma was increasing in size and pressing further on her brain.

Wolf: "Hello again, Heidi! It's me, Wolf. Remember I spoke with you downstairs in E.R.?"

Heidi: [Softly] "I know ... You're Wolfy. But you don't bite."

Wolf: [Reassuringly] "Yes, I'm Wolfy, and I don't bite. Heidi, can we let your parents hold your unicorn for you while you're in surgery?"

Heidi: "Ok."

Dr. Trams: "What's your unicorn's name?"

Heidi: [Smiling] "SKY!"

Dr. Trams and I harmonized, "OHHH, SKYYY!"

Her mother smiled and then removed the unicorn's necklace.

Wolf: "Ok, now give Mom and Dad a kiss. We gotta go in."

The parents kissed her and as we wheeled Heidi into surgery, I could see them fighting back the tears, trying desperately to put on an optimistic face.

As we entered O.R. 1, I said out loud, "Heidi, this is Angelo and Romeo. They are also nurses who will help take care of you. She said, "Hi!" Angelo and Romeo replied, "Hi, Heidi!"

I held Heidi's hand and said out loud, "Heidi, you're going to be ok."

Dr. Trams gave Heidi the medication to induce her sleep. He then placed a breathing tube in her airway and secured it. Angelo turned on the operating room lights. Dr. Degas washed, combed and separated Heidi's hair. Dr. Degas did this so she would not have to shave much of Heidi's hair. Angelo then prepped the skull with betadine. I finished counting sponges, needles and other items with Romeo. Dr. Degas washed her hands and then gowned and gloved. She then draped off the sterile operative field with Romeo. Angelo and I hooked up the electric Bovie cords, the suction, and the midas Rex (power drill: Perforator). Angelo then read the consent for surgery out loud confirming the operation, the side, and all other pertinent information. Dr. Degas referenced the x-rays one more time and then said, "Knife!" Then the surgery began.

The surgery went perfectly. This is what we did for a living. This is what we had been doing for years. After the operation, Dr. Trams would wake the patient up. Then Dr. Degas would conduct another neuro-assessment on Heidi. After that, she would go and speak with the parents while we transferred Heidi to P.A.C.U. (Post Anesthesia Care Unit), or as some call it, the Recovery Room.

By the time we finished, there were three other surgical rooms humming with nurses, techs, assistants, and doctors performing various emergency surgeries.

It was a good start for a Saturday morning. Angelo and Romeo went on to do a few orthopedic cases, while I joined up with Valerie to do a few general surgery cases and a gunshot wound.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Surgery Insomniacsby Rolfe C. Sanberg, Jr. Copyright © 2009 by Rolfe C. Sanberg, Jr.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Publication date: 2009
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1449013163
• ISBN 13: 9781449013165
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 144