Having finished the post-round ward work, mostly involving poking babies for blood tests (as the phlebotomists that work in regional hospitals rarely are comfortable doing the same), I took a rare but on-time lunch break. This break resurrected a forgotten Friday tradition (Ursula, I miss you!) of getting a giant take away baguette sandwich for lunch with fellow SHOs to celebrate Friday (though, no one found the 'full fat coke' comment as amusing as Ursula). Having celebrated the last Friday together (as 2 of my co-workers are on holiday next week and the following week we will be scattering to new jobs), we trudged back up to the ward to finish all outstanding work before (hopefully) making a swift and on-time departure home.
Afternoon work is mostly cleaning up the stuff left over from the week, the stuff not addressed on the ward round, the results of the bloods from the morning, and reviewing any radiology... I was waiting patiently for one of the babies to return from ultrasound, writing up discharge summaries, signing lab reports, and searching for the name of a patient that had been in hospital months prior... These things haunt my dreams.
Fire alarm sounded... Something that happens ridiculously often, given the propensity for toast to burn at tea time, and is frequently ignored. All the fire doors shut, but the sound of the alarm is more of a warning than an alarm of immediate action and it seems that one of the other wards has set it off... Noted, ignored. The alarm stops mere moments later and we re-open all the safety doors, and get right on back to our jobs. I desperately search for the chart of a patient that has returned from ultrasound, but sans chart. There is important information I must record if I want to leave today! ... Does it feel damp in the building today? I get the relieving call from x-ray that the chart happened to be left down with them on the ground floor, so I'll just wander down there and fetch it (I have nothing better to do... she says sarcastically).
Photo not actually from hospital... |
Thankfully, we have a quick thinking nursing staff (yeah... this crap is their job too). The lights had been shut off, the computer had been moved to a safer location, the charts and papers had all been moved from the ward desk (above which the rainstorm seemed to be focused) to various dry higher-ground. Things seemed "under control," so I dashed past this mess to the elevators. I needed that chart!
Photo may be greatly exaggerated... May be... |
I took the larger, older elevators (they seemed to be closer to dry ground) to reach the ground floor. And the doors opened into the main ground-floor meeting area/chapel area/cross-roads... Oh the horror!
Across from the old elevators is a single new elevator that is quite small (but quite fast in comparison) with only enough space for 4 people. It's not terribly practical in a hospital, since you've no hope of fitting a wheel chair, but I like it for its size and stealth. From my little, stealthy elevator poured a flood of water. Nothing like what was seen in Hoboken (yes, that picture is from the floods that followed Sandy), but a nice, steady stream of water. And surrounding the open doors and pool of water was a perplexed looking custodial staff. Not much for me to do there, but I did tell them that the water was coming from the 6th floor, given that it was raining on the 5th.
Again, not actual footage, but the most accurate photo yet |
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