The Days (and Nights) of Summer

After a grueling almost 9 hours of sitting through 20+ research presentations, my Summer Research experience came to an official end. It's really not over, because there are still some abstracts to polish, a lot of manuscripts to write and a lot of fingers to cross in hopes that some of my projects will be accepted for presentation at an upcoming regional conference in Iowa, then a national conference in New Orleans, and maybe an international conference in Spain. We'll have to see, but those are the goals.

So, to report on the summer: It was awesome. Pretty much everything I was hoping for. I was able to spend 8 weeks in the ER at UTMC and learned a ton. My research projects were directly linked to the trauma team, so in those 8 weeks, myself and my other two teammates responded to close to 80 trauma cases at all hours of the day and mostly the night. In addition, I got to spend the downtime working in the ER. It became pretty apparent early on that anyone wearing a white coat was fair game to be put to work. Pretty soon, I found myself interviewing and examining patients, presenting their cases to the attending, strategizing on treatment, getting to do some procedures, and overall learning more than I did all year sitting in class. I feel a lot more motivated to pay extra close attention this coming year. Now I have a better understanding of how, why, and where the classroom stuff will fit into the clinical stuff.

There are a lot of stories and experiences I could share, but one stands out that I feel is the most appropriate, and really was pretty life-changing for me. I know this is a long post already, but bear with me as I tell this story. Besides, it's not like I post much anyway. Let this one count for the lack of posts you'll get from me for the next few months.;)

On July 4th, I had volunteered to take a 24 hour shift starting at noon. I figured it should contain a lot of interesting things. Well, by 5 p.m., there were only 3 patients in the ER, and things had been pretty slow. I was pretty bored and decided to slip away and go home to be with Keriann and our friends at a BBQ in our complex. I got home, surprised everyone and was just fixing up my hotdog, when my pager went off. "Level 1 trauma, female, ATV rollover." There was no ETA, so I figured I'd have time to eat my dinner. After a few minutes, I heard the Lifeflight helicopter in the distance. It has a very distinct sound. I choked down my hotdog, kissed Keriann goodbye and hurried to the hospital, hoping I could beat the chopper.

I made it barely in time, but the patient's condition was too critical for my research, so I stood back and watched, helping where I could. The girl was tiny, looked to be only 15 or 16, and was in bad shape. She was completely limp and unconcious. Her eyes were open, with the pupils fixed, and there was blood leaking out of her ears. She had been riding ATV's with her family at a gathering and had flipped hers over. She hadn't been wearing a helmet. In the CT scanner, everyone saw what they had expected. She had several skull fractures, and was bleeding into her brain. Her brain was completely shifted over, and was beginning to push down onto her brainstem.

As we wheeled her out of the CT scanner to the elevators to take her to the OR, her family met us in the hallway. It was probably the most heart-wrenching thing I've ever seen, watching as the parents and her siblings just sobbed uncontrollably, looking anywhere for any sort of comfort or reassurance that no one could really give them. The looks on the trauma teams' faces were pretty clear, no one expected her to make it.

I went with the two ER nurses to help show the family where they could wait during the long surgery ahead, and helped to explain as best I could what the doctors were going to try and do, and that it would be a while before any news would be available. It was hard to swallow the lump in my throat as I watched the mom fall completely apart once more as she remembered that she had forgotten to remind the girls to put on their helmets, and then to see the dad struggle to hold his emotions in check as he tried to be strong for his family.

I had the chance to check on the family later on during the night. She was still in surgery, it had been 3 hours, and still no news. By 11:30 or so, during a lull in the ER, I volunteered to go upstairs and check again. I found a packed waiting room outside of the ICU, and very anxious parents. The surgery was done, she was still alive, and now the waiting began. Again it was hard to choke down the lump that formed as I saw the pleading in everyone's eyes for some sort of hope or comfort that I could give that things were going to be okay. I couldn't give them anything except my assurance that I would continue to keep their daughter in my prayers.

I didn't work again till monday night. I wondered if the girl had made it through the weekend. I found out that she was still alive and in the ICU. I went up to check on her and was met by her mom who gave me a giant hug. She was still in a coma, but was responding to her family's voices, and had even given her dad a hug. It soon became a daily ritual to check up on this girl. Everyday brought news of more miracles, and more hugs from mom. Her breathing tube was coming out, she was awake, she had gotten out of bed and sat in a chair, she was talking, and remembering...

Before I knew it, she was out of the ICU and on the rehab floor. I was able to introduce myself and chat with this young lady who had literally cheated death. During the next week in rehab, the news continued to be positive. She had taken a walk outside, she was taking several walks outside everyday, the weakness in her left hand was completely gone, they were going to put the skull plate they had removed back into her head, they were talking about sending her home on wednesday...

Two and a half weeks after she had come into the ER, I went up to check on "our little girl" (as the nurses in the ER were calling her). When I got there, Catlyn was gone. She had gone home the previous day, fully recovered.

It's the type of story that is my motivation to study medicine in the first place, and is also the type of story that will probably keep me going for 10 more years. I always thought it funny how everytime I visited, her mom thanked me for "all that I had done to save her daughter's life," when in reality I hadn't done anything, and I was the one who needed to thank them for all they had done for me. It was a powerful lesson for me of faith, that Heavenly Father is truly the one in charge, and that Jesus is the Master Healer.