Sadly, the day I went to shadow was the slowest day in the history of radiology! Instead of the usual 30 or so patients the Child Life Specialist would work with, we saw a grand total of 4 kids. Bummer. But what can you do, right?
I did a lot of therapeutic play this week. We made playdough and then filled medical gloves with it to make stress-balls for squeezing. Making the playdough himself helped boost the patient's self-esteem: "I made this!" and pounding/squeezing it provided a safe and appropriate outlet for expressing anger and frustration. The playdough-filled glove was designed for squeezing, but the patient decided to instead use it to trick the doctor into shaking hands with the glove. Good thing it's a children's hospital. Hee Hee!
With another patient, we made collage posters for his door: one of things he likes (he cut out a lot of food pictures!) and one of things he didn't like (like getting pokes, aka: needle-sticks). It was a great way to get to know him, and the posters provide a nice way for other staff to know his likes and dislikes. It also helped the patient to understand that it is okay to express himself, and say when he doesn't like something -- this was something he'd been very hesitant to do.
I'm starting to feel pretty confident on the floor. In the morning, the charge nurse gives us "flash rounds" -- just a quick report on each kiddo for Child Life and the school teachers, so we know what's changed over night, new admits, etc. I can follow just about everything at flash rounds now, and have a good grasp of what questions to ask. Then I can look at my list of patients, and figure out where the highest needs are, who I should see it what order, and what sort of activities I want to do with each patient. I still need a lot more practice in the different interventions (like medical play, diagnosis teaching, and procedural prep and support), but I'll get that in the next few weeks. Hopefully in a few more weeks I'll be running mostly on my own.
I got my first try at charting this week. For those not in the medical world, this is when I write in a patients file about what I did with them. The hard part is that the correct method for doing it is so exact and complicated, that it is much like learning a new language. I handed in my first charting assignment yesterday afternoon -- and it promptly came back to me with more red ink than Iceland's national budget. I get to re-write them and hand them in next week, in addition to next week's charting assignment. *sigh* But, she then said to me: for a first effort, my chart notes were really quite good. So . . . yay!
My low this week: I thought watching kids get sick with cancer, sicker with chemo, and then maybe die anyway was going to be the hard part of being in hematology/oncology. I was so very, very wrong. That part I was ready for. Turns out, for me at least, the really hard part is the crappy family situations -- the ones that leave the kids crying not because the chemo makes them sick, not because their pain is out of control . . . but because the parents haven't come to see them in a week. Or a thousand other sad, horrible, hurtful things. I wear my oversized heart on my sleeve, and I want to make it all better for these sad, suffering kids. I want them to have perfect family situations, where they always feel loved and wanted, always nurtured, always provided for, cared for . . . But you know what? That's probably what their parents want for them, too.
My high this week: an "ah ha!" moment during a therapeutic play session, that gave me insight into the patient's mind, and his reluctance to express himself. It was one of those moments when the pieces just click into place, and you see the hidden picture, and you know what to do about it. That felt really good.
No comments:
Post a Comment