Dr Zoe Norris
GP working in the NHS- The Nurses Who Made Me a Better Doctor Posted:
07/01/2016 10:09 GMT Updated: 07/01/2016 10:59 GMT - I am a doctor, trained for
10 years, highly qualified. But I wouldn't be half the doctor I am today
without nurses. From
my first days on the wards as a medical student, with no idea about the human
body, nurses have helped me. To a few days ago when I didn't know which
dressing was best to put on a leg wound, nurses have helped me. This is a
small, unworthy tribute to all the hard working nurses in the NHS. It involves
a lot of cups of tea.
I learnt to
trust nurses implicitly as a junior doctor in paediatrics. It was my first job.
Paediatric nurses are unflappably calm and infinitely cheerful. They can talk
in a soothing voice in the face of terrified parents. They can distract the
whole team during the tense care of a tiny newborn, while handing every
essential piece of equipment over at the right time. I watched them work and
learnt so much. During a busy night shift, I was run off my feet. It was
winter, and there were five poorly children waiting to be assessed, as well as
a whole ward to care for. The only other doctor was on the special care baby
unit, looking after a poorly newborn. Then another phone call - another
admission. A poorly three-year-old girl with a fever at the local walk in
centre just next door. Could they send the child round? I took the details,
jotting them on a scrap of paper and carried on. I vaguely registered two
worried parents walking past, carrying a blanket wrapped child. The nurse went
to take some details, check the basic observations. She came back barely thirty
seconds later.
"Zoe, I
need you."
I gestured
at the piles of papers in front of me, halfway through admitting another
patient.
"I'll
be there in a second."
"No,
Zoe. I need you now."
One look at
her face was enough. She looked sick. I dropped the papers, grabbed my
stethoscope and went to the bed. She - ever the professional - was back to
smiling, chatting with the parents. I looked at the small head poking out of a
blanket. I didn't understand. She added in "I'll just let Dr Zoe have a
little look" then removed the blanket. The small head extended to a small
body, a deathly colour, and covered in the rash every nurse, doctor and parent
dreads. Meningitis. It was everywhere. I tried to follow her lead, keep my
voice calm, but inside I was thinking "Oh God, oh God, oh God". As I
ran to get help, I could hear her gently telling the parents that we would need
to move their little girl soon; that there would be a lot of people but not to
worry, we would look after her.
Over the
next hour, I worked alongside a whole team of nurses to try and save this
little girls life. They were amazing. When I felt like a spare part amongst the
senior doctors, they guided me. As she was whisked off to intensive care, I
felt so wrung out I was ready to drop. I had another eight hours to work of my
night shift. I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Instead I was hugged.
I was force fed tea and biscuits. I was supported for the rest of the night. I
couldn't have finished that shift without those nurses.
On Boxing
Day on the medical wards, I had worked non-stop since 8am. It was 4pm when I
finally made it to ward five. They had been waiting for me for six hours. I had
rung to let them know I was finally coming. When I arrived, ready for
complaints and recriminations, there was a hot cup of tea on the desk, a pile
of drug charts each with a post-it note stuck on. On this was written exactly
what each patient needed and the name of their nurse. When they realised I
hadn't eaten all day, the Quality Street were duly passed over, some toast
rustled up, and I had my first chance to sit down for eight hours. I was so
touched by their kindness. They didn't know me from all the other doctors in
the hospital - they didn't have to make my day that bit easier, but we were a
team.
In A&E,
when I was scared of the abusive drunks, the nurses stood with me and put them
in their place. They joked about teaching me how to be assertive. I think I
learned...
In return, I
rolled up my sleeves and helped clean the patient covered in bloody faeces
after a huge bleed from their bowel. I cleaned the trolleys if my patient was
sick on them. I made the tea.
In surgical
on-calls, I covered all the wards. Randomly, the nurses could put catheters in
female patients, but not in male patients. So they got me instead. Except the
urology nurses with 20 years experience knew a hell of a lot more about putting
in male catheters than I did, even though they had never been allowed to do one
themselves. As I learned on the job, each time one of these experts stood at my
shoulder, talking me through the procedure. When things went wrong, when I
couldn't get the catheter in, when the patient was bleeding and in pain, they
kept me calm and made quiet, confident suggestions. Little tricks to try that
you only learn with experience. All I had was the title "Doctor".
They had all the knowledge.
On the
obstetric wards, the midwives helped me through the rollercoaster of delivering
babies. Learning to work alongside each other, we went through miscarriages,
stillbirths, and hundreds of tears. When things go wrong in labour, they go
wrong fast and they go wrong badly. Midwives take it all in their stride.
Emergency buzzers are routine; nothing panics them. The good obstetric doctors
know to ask the midwives when they are struggling. And with a wry smile, they
are always helped.
Now as a GP,
when I start at a new surgery, it's the nurses I spend time with. They give me
the background on any complex patients. They don't laugh (much) when I try and
bandage things. They teach me tricks for taking smears I never knew existed.
When I have a bad day, they are there to support me. I try and return the
favour, but it always feels like they have got it cracked and I am still
learning.
Many nurses
I have worked with have their own worries, their own stress. They have young
children, teenagers, husbands, wives. They are struggling working long shifts
for too little pay, because they love their jobs. The NHS is a massive team. We
support each other every day and the patient does so much better because of
this. But the team is being pulled apart and patients are suffering. On 9th
January, nurses are marching to protest against cuts to NHS student bursaries.
Please, support them. Please listen to them. We are a team. #bursaryorbust
Follow Dr
Zoe Norris on Twitter: www.twitter.com/dr_zo
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