Callback

Ring ring...ring ring...

What the...

I raised my head from the pillow. Why is Tofupuff calling me so early?

Hello?

I tried to peer through my barely opened eyelids. The number showed "withheld." Great. Can't give the bast4rd a piece of my mind if I don't know who it is.

"Hi, this is J from reception. This is Poet, isn't it?"

Yeah...speaking. I was ready to drop dead. Honestly. The nerve. No one knowing me would ever wake me up early in the morning even if my ballsack was on fire.

"I've got Surgical on the phone. They've got a patient they need you to see. I'll put you through."

*beep*

What the heck is the fricking time...I tried to open my plastered eyes. Dang it. Still couldn't quite see the little time figure showing at the bottom of the screen. Right. Time to get myself a new phone. +D

"Hi Poet, sorry to disturb you so early in the morning..."

No worries. (What I actually meant was...Damn straight its early!")

"...this is J from Surgical ward. Do you know Mrs P?"

Uh....yeah. I know her.

"Yes, she's struggling to breathe quite a bit early this morning and she's been like this all night. She's had her nebulisers at 6.00a.m. but she's still struggling. She's requested if you can come in and do a bit of chest physio with her."

Right. No problem. I'll be there.

"Of course, you don't need to come in right away. But A.S.A.P would be good." I could hear a slightly raised tone in her voice, probably tempting me to want to come in A.S.A.P. Now isn't that just fabulous. And you get two contrasting sentences in less than 5 seconds. Bleh.

Okay. Will see you soon.

*beep*

I lay in bed, marinating in the remainder of the heat emanating from my duvet and my body heat that had been comfortably trapped underneath for ages. Turned to look out the window. Even the sun wasn't up yet. Oh well. The wonders of on call.

As I struggled out of bed and finally decided that yes, I do need some undies on and I can't go to work hanging underneath my shorts, I wondered whether this call was inappropriate. Whether, you know, I should head back to bed and get back to sleep. Lord knows, I wanna. And Lord knows, once my head touches that pillow, I'll be out like a light until the cows come home. Preferably at about 4p.m. in the afternoon. Oh yeah, what's the time?

6.24a.m.

Even the Rapture isn't worth waking up this early for. Bleh times two.

Coming in to work this early in the morning is an interesting experience. The entire place is dark, saved for the embedded ceiling lights. If the place didn't smell of disinfectant and air deodoriser and didn't have people dressed in white running around with stethoscopes and medications, you'd think you were in a dimmed hotel hallway.

I dragged in a obs monitor with me, its blinking yellow lights glimmering in the darkness.

Mrs P? Good morning. How are you?

"Not too good."

I popped the finger probe on and put the stethoscope in my ears. As the monitor kicked to life and flashed random numbers, I listened in the darkness. Her lungs were as quiet as a graveyard. The only real thing I could hear was the hiss of oxygen running through her nasal prongs and her laboured breathing underneath my hands.

88%....89%....88%...

Not the greatest numbers in the world, I thought to myself. Especially if she's running on oxygen already.

Rightyo, Mrs P. First things first...I want you to breathe into my hands. I want you to feel your ribcage push out against my hands as you breathe in and out...that's it. I just want you to close your eyes and relax. Very good...now, just slow that breathing down just a little bit...take it in a little slower...brilliant. Good. Keep that nice and slow.

And at 6.40a.m. until an hour later, I stood there, trying to get her to cough out phelgm with the consistency between PVA glue and Blue-tac.

It was worth it, in the end. Her numbers went up to 93% with an occasional jump to 94% on 2L nasal prongs.

But I was pretty screwed.

I deserved whatever-the-hell-I-wanted for breakfast, along with two cups of milk and 2 sugars. Oh yeah, add a teaspoon of coffee to that too, thanks.

For a lot of physios, especially those working in hospitals, and specifically if you're on the wards, this is what its like. Private physios can always look forward to a 8 to 5 job, unless you take on extra exercise classes like the Singaporean Rambo (LTA). But we hospital dudes and dudettes, are at the mercy of the hospital no matter time or place.

I think my eyes are ready to close again. *yawn*

But its too late to go to bed now. I'll make up for it later.

Snore.