She Shoots, She Scores

So I did my first straight cath (I told you I wasn’t going to be able to evade it two weekends in a row). It really wasn’t that bad. I just think that the whole sterile field thing, combined with the fact that we hadn’t done cathing in the lab (let alone on real human flesh) in over a year had me wigged out. You can study all the textbooks and watch all the skills videos you want, but in the end it’s nothing like doing the real thing. And I sure didn’t see the famous “wink” they talked about when they were teaching the skill in lab. But my clinical instructor is great. She’s really supportive and makes you feel comfortable even when you’re in there doing something for the first time and feel first-day-of-school-stupid. You realize that you know a lot more than you think you do and things just start to flow. Not so wet behind the ears after all…

Saved by the Belle

Today we travel to a land called Far Far Away (don’t mind me, I’m going through a Shrek thing right now). There I had a patient, little Felicia (but no sign of Fargus, Fargle, or Shrek—they must have been off doing whatever it is that ogres do). And just my luck, on my very first day in FFA I was supposed to do a straight cath. OY. VEY. I had been dreading that aspect of the rotation ever since I found out that most of the little ogres had SCIs (spinal cord injuries) and the likelihood of having to straight cath (and often) was very high. As a nurse, I wanted to help take the pain away—not add to it. It was somewhat “comforting” (to me) to know that most of the patients wouldn’t feel the procedure due to their impairment. But then of course my patient, little Felicia, had “patchy sensation…”

Stomach in knots, stress headache waiting in the wings, I gathered my supplies…12 french catheter, surgilube, sterile and clean gloves, blue chux, disposable washcloths (the ogres didn’t use betadine), urinal…

Deep breath…hand hygiene…

Knock, knock.

“Hi Felicia…”

Once I entered the room you would never know that inside I was a bundle of nerves. I’m good with kids—I’d have to be—I have three (four if you count my husband). Felicia and I small talked about how she ate her pizza with ketchup and mustard on top (ew) as my clinical instructor, the PCA, and I transferred Felicia from her wheelchair to her bed. The PCA (male) left so that we could get down to the nitty gritty…but to my surprise, Felicia then insisted that Princess Fiona cath her and that she wanted her to “stop making such a big deal out of it” (ouch).

Which of course was just fine with me. Talk about a sigh of relief.

But I am sure that next weekend my clinical instructor will make sure I don’t get away so easily…