Agraphia Medical Tragicomedy

10Jul/1111

Megacode

She rolled in to Resuscitation Bay One an ashen grey, the tired paramedic straddling the stretcher doing chest compressions.  Sweat poured down his brow and arms.  They had been at this for an hour en route to our hospital on dark, twisty back roads.  She was just shy of 90 years old.

She died for the first time at home while washing the dishes; her husband heard a plate shatter and found her dead on the floor.  He started CPR while calling 911 and valiantly kept doing chest compressions until the medics arrived.  They jump-started her heart with a defibrillator, but she died for the second and third times on the way to us.

There is a hue about truly dead people - an aura, almost.  Extremities pale and mottled, lips colorless.  When she arrived the other physician and I shared a knowing glance.   This would not end well for her.  She was long gone already, but her wishes were to "have everything done".  So, we started doing everything.

It is a peculiar feeling, cracking someone's ribs while doing CPR.  The heart is simply a series of one-way valves; by doing chest compressions blood is forced out of the heart to the rest of the body.  Unfortunately generating that much pressure is often too much for osteoporotic, elderly bones to handle.  The result is a *snap* as ribs break from the force.  It feels like torture.

Broken ribs are unbelievably sharp.  Chest compressions generate inward force, and so the bones rip and tear the lungs, causing air to leak out.  With nowhere to go, eventually the air pressure deflates the lungs.  The solution is to "decompress" the pulmonary cavity with large bore needles stabbed directly though the chest wall.

As her heart began to fibrillate we began to shock it with 200 joules of electricity, over and over, in an attempt to regain a normal rhythm.  Caustic medications were pushed through her IV's to try to stabilize and restart the heart muscle.  None of it worked, of course, but she wanted everything done.

In ACLS training this is referred to as a Megacode - a code situation where every therapy and every algorithm is used.  It's purely for training purposes; you never survive these extensive measures.

She briefly regained a pulse and then died for the fourth and final time, with a tube in her trachea and esophagus, every rib broken, a needle in each side of her chest, IVs in each arm, special intravascular devices to each groin, and a catheter up her urethra.

I wish I could bestow my entire medical knowledge on patients and families before they ask to have "everything done".  They cannot possibly understand what they ask me to do to the ones they love.

8Jul/111

Bear With Me…

That's right folks, we're jumping hosting sites.  In the meantime Agraphia might look a little different than what you're used to.  Hopefully we come out the other side unscathed.

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4Jul/117

Make You A Celebrity Overnight

Well, I've stirred up the hornet's nest, dear readers.

I'm answering questions over at reddit.com (hey, reddit!) for anybody who is interested in jumping in on the discussion.  Apologies if the blog crashes, they're sending some pretty heavy traffic my way.

Happy 4th of July!

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30Jun/113

Big Fish In A Little Pond

And like that, a year has passed.

I'm officially a senior resident.  It may seem an arbitrary milestone - leave the hospital a second year resident, return as a senior - but the changes are easy to see.

During my shift today, I placed a central line in a matter of seconds; the first one I ever did took an hour and a half.  I casually transfused a trauma victim two pints of blood while on the phone with a consultant.  I coached a family through their mother's catastrophic brain bleed, answering their questions and initiating palliative care.  A man's heart stopped beating - twice - and I restarted it.  Another patient went into flash pulmonary edema and I prevented him from drowning in his own secretions.

It was a good day.  It's been a excellent year.  I'm excited to see what happens next... I love this job.

17Jun/116

Scrubs

I'd like to take a moment to thank the field of Emergency Medicine for something I hold very dear: scrubs.

Wake up, throw on a pair of glorified pajamas, and roll into work as an acceptably dressed physician?  That, friends, is awesome.

14Jun/116

Now Enrolling!

Academic research is a tough field to break into.  There are institutional review boards, approval committees, funding requirements, and design hurdles to overcome.  Everyone is overwhelmed starting out.  Medical students, residents - I feel and share your pain.  And you wonder why it costs billions to create, test, and market new drugs...

But hey, good news!  Yours truly just enrolled his first patient in his first real study! This isn't just a review of some data.  We're talking a good, old fashioned "we give you money to let us test stuff on you" study.

Now enrolling!  Look out, world, Dr. Zac is about to make the world a better place!

10Jun/113

Futile

It was a shitty day.

Some days are just like that.  Instead of humor and good outcomes, everything is pathos and tragedy.  Kind, sweet old ladies suddenly and unexpectedly die horribly painful deaths.  Young children are neglected by parents high on street drugs. An unexpected cancer diagnosis brings a grown man to tears.

In the midst of all this, TRAUMA CODE 1, coming by chopper.  A 50-something woman found out her husband was cheating on her and shot herself straight through the head.   For better or for worse the human body is resilient, so her heart was still beating when he found her in the bathtub.  Medics were clearly shaken by the scene when they arrived.

She rolled into the trauma bay a mess.  The room was abuzz with malignant energy.  Everyone knew something evil had happened here.

It was immediately apparent that she had no chance of survival; brain tissue was matted all over the trauma stretcher.  Traumas like this are formulaic.  Medics give report as a room full of physicians, nurses, and techs stand alert.  The patient is transferred over to the trauma bay stretcher, IV's are placed while an intern calls out a physical exam.  Clockwork.

A few minutes in her blood pressure started to drop, quickly.  It's a hallmark of severe brain injury and is usually easily managed if recognized early. Still, drops in blood pressure are a sign of badness, a portent omen of things to come.

"This is futile," said one of the trauma surgeons with a roll of his eyes, "she's fuckin' done."

Something in me snapped.  "There are still lives to be saved here," I snarled, "get your game face on or get out."

Everyone looked at me, taken aback.  I'm normally the champion for palliative and hospice care, and I'm a huge believer in one's right to die peacefully.  We physicians have a hubris about our capabilities that I find offputting; the human body is far smarter than we will ever be.

Quietly, I explained.   "She's got a pair of perfectly good kidneys, a liver, lungs, and a heart that can save the lives of several people today.  If she dies today, they do too."

After that the room silenced, and we got her to the ICU for stabilization.  She's on the transplant list pending final approval.  I hope that in her final moments she can help others, even if she couldn't help herself.

Some days are shitty. Hopefully there's a silver lining.

Filed under: Medicine 3 Comments
28Apr/113

The Time Crunch

I sometimes fail to realize how busy I really am during residency.

Just today I was looking at my schedule and realized that I'm booked up for the next month and a half; not just working 80 hours a week, but editing articles for the EMRA magazine, writing research proposals, submitting a publication to an academic journal, giving lectures, starting a new academic blog (stay tuned, readers!) trying to write an EKG book with a cardiologist... the obligations just go on and on.

I'm happy, and I hope I'm doing good things for this world, but damn, am I busy! All you premeds, med students, and laypersons out there... it's not easy. Rewarding, yes. Fulfilling, yes. But easy? Think again.

Filed under: Medicine 3 Comments
18Apr/113

Snuff

"I'm really anxious about this procedure," he said, "can't you just knock me out for it?"

He wasn't just anxious. His hands were trembling, the telltale shakes of the withdrawing alcoholic... perhaps a clue as to why he stumbled in the first place, shattering his ankle. The ankle was in bad shape - both fractured and dislocated - and needed to be fixed.

Setting this particular fracture is extremely painful, and he would need to be sedated heavily. The chronic alcohol use would complicate things, but he denied any other drugs except chew tobacco.

Airway equipment? Check. Monitoring equipment? Check. Orthopedic Surgeons? Check.

I start with a dose of Versed and Fentanyl and he goes glassy-eyed, until the orthopods start going at his foot like a pack of wild dogs to a hunk of meat. He starts howling and I quickly push more meds.

And then, something goes wrong. He starts gurgling and a thin, reedy trail of dark spittle traces down his cheek. The oxygen levels in his blood begin to fall, fast. My heart starts pounding. This isn't supposed to happen. This is never supposed to happen.

I reach for the breathing tube, pause, and think better of it. I check his mouth - pooled in the back of his throat is a copious amount of discolored saliva. He's drowning on his own spit. I've never seen this before, but he reeks of alcohol and nicotine.

I go back in for another look and suddenly it strikes me that there is something wrong with his lip. I swipe my finger between his gum line and promptly pull out a huge wad of dip. No wonder he was salivating like crazy. I've seen patients do some dumb shit, but this... well, this takes the cake.

They say nicotine kills. In this case, it almost did.

Filed under: Medicine 3 Comments
10Apr/1111

Defensive Medicine

Getting ready to enter a patient's room last week, I overheard her speaking loudly into her cell phone. A snippet of what she said appalled me.

"... uh huh, I am going to MILK this accident for money. Naw, I ain't hurt at all, I'll be home for dinner. We gonna get ourselves a fat check from this one..."

Walking through the door, it was as if a lightswitch had been thrown. Suddenly she was speaking in whispers, tears flowing from her eyes, with excruciating neck, back, side, arm, and head pain. She swore she was fainting in and out of consciousness.

I found out later that a city bus had been nicked by a car and all the bus occupants had taken the waaaaambulance to the ER, like sharks to blood, in search of lawsuit money.

A very good friend of mine was on the other end of something similar, so I have become hyperacute to the role my medical charting plays in the legal arena. As such, I've started practicing "defensive" medicine... or put another way, ensuring that I protect everyone involved in an accident - and not just my patient.

In this particular case, there was clearly nothing wrong with this woman. Written all over my chart is "no suspicion of serious injury" and "completely normal physical examination". I even went so far as to give her a work excuse note specifically stating that she could return to work the next day.

Of course, this isn't to say that some people involved in these incidents don't have real disease. But when neither the bus nor the car have any damage - and you're yammering into your phone about how the lawsuit is going to put food on the table - well, I simply don't like to see people taken advantage of.

Good luck suing the city with that chart, lady. It's bulletproof. I went ahead and quoted your cellphone conversation, too, as I suspect a direct quote of "I am going to MILK this accident for money. Naw, I ain't hurt at all" doesn't go over so well in a courtroom when you're filing for damages.

Filed under: Medicine 11 Comments