The work of a nurse: "I took a pair of gloves and tried to remove the piercing. He held "| Society

I began my career as a cardiology nurse in the vascular department of a central London hospital. It was a busy service that treated people waiting for surgery or convalescing to unblock the veins and arteries of their legs. It was my first night shift as a qualified nurse. I was badigned eight patients, some postoperative and convalescent, and one waiting for surgery the next day. There were three nurses on the shift, including myself. We took our day staff transfers and went to meet our patients. The nurse responsible for the night called Mathilde. She had been working at night for 20 years. We had not worked together before, and she gently put her arm around my shoulders as she discussed my patients with me. Then she looked me in the eyes and smiled – she had a golden tooth that shone in the light – before going to greet her own patients for the night with jazz hands.

I walked slowly down the hall, mind full of what I had to do. At what time should I start my drug tour? At what time should I start mixing my medications intravenously? At what time should I start recording observations about my patients? I could already hear ringtones at the other end of the room, the linoleum lighting up under the blinking orange bells.

I spent my first night shift as a student nurse in a quiet orthopedic hospital ward located up the hill from my home, where I had was operated on myself in adolescence and where my sister Daisy was working in the birth center.

I was given the second break and the nurse in charge told me to take her in the teachers' room. To my surprise, she had installed a camp bed in the middle of the room, the sheets perfectly covered with a hospital blanket. It looked like a mirage after seven o'clock and midnight, already two hours. Despite this, I remember not feeling tired. I had been so nervous about my first night shift that my brain felt wired, buzzing and alert, ready to learn. Nevertheless, I went to bed.

There was a knock on the door; it was the nurse responsible. I quickly removed the sheets, thinking that the bed might not have been for me. She smiled and brought me inside. She advised me not to set the alarm on my phone because I was right next to the patient bay and it might bother them. She badured me that she would wake me up in an hour and closed the door gently behind her. I lay in the dark, listening to the sounds of the hospital around me.

It turned out to be the longest one-hour break I've ever seen. When the door of the staff room was knocked on the door, I turned quickly and checked my phone: it was six o'clock in the morning. I had slept for four hours!

I jumped off the cot, my student uniform folded. When I opened the door, I saw the smiling faces of my skilled colleagues, all three unable to contain their bursts of laughter.

"Did you sleep well?" Whispered the nurse in charge, trying her best to hide her smile.

"I'm so sorry," I say. "I slept while I woke up."

She nodded. "No, you did not do it, remember?"

I thought back to the early hours of the morning and remembered being told not to fix it. I looked at her and her face turned into a smirk. The other nurses laughed and one of them approached me and hugged me.

"It does not matter," she says. "Do not be so worried. You still have 40 years of night work; we thought to start slowly. I could hear his heart beating through his uniform.

"But you have not had time to take your breaks," I said.

"We rested," she says. "And we talked. It was a quiet quarter.

I have straightened my uniform and tied my hair back. The morning sun was peeking through the windows and the room was waking up.

Back in my first night shift as a qualified nurse in the vascular department, I felt the weight of my responsibilities on me. I was no longer a student. These were my patients for the night. They relied on me and the protection of their heart, lungs and limbs depended on my nursing skills.

I went to see the patient who was waiting for the theater tomorrow. Louis was a 70-year-old man suffering from a vascular operation in his right leg.

I introduced myself and took his observations, recording them on the computer. I told him I would help prepare him for surgery the next day. that I should shave the hair off his body and that he should wash with an antiseptic scrub. Louis seemed relaxed about the operation. he smiled when I asked him if he felt nervous and shook his head.

"I'll be happy to have done it," he said. "Then I will be able to continue my life." He told me that he would stay after his operation with his partner, who had taken time off to be able to take care of him at home.

"She's nice to me," he smiled. "I'm 20 years older than her and I'm sure she'd rather work instead of suckling, but what can I say? I am a lucky man. "

"I'm sure you both care," I said.

He smiled and nodded. "I did not think to find someone of my age …"

He zipped his toilet bag and put it on his neatly folded clothes, then turned to face me, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"So," he said. "You need me washed, shaved and shined, is that right?"

"That's right," I say. "I will see some patients first and come back with everything I need, if you feel like it?"

At the end of the rest of my tasks, it was almost midnight. I felt late in my work and knew that it was unfair to leave Louis' formula late, but many patients were bedridden and needed help using the pelvis, and treatment was delayed.

Finally, I went back to Louis. I apologized to him, but he would not have heard of it. "It's not a problem," he said. "Now, what is the first?"

"Let's do the theater checklist," I said, sitting down by the bed.

"Awesome! It's there that you're asking about legs and shrapnel in wood, is not it?

"Almost," I said.

I asked him if he had fake or loose teeth.

"A plate at the top," he says.

"It's good," I say. "We will put it in a safe place in the morning. Latex allergy?

"No," he said.

"Metal parts in your body, hips, knees, joints?"

He shook his head again, then stopped. "Jewelry count?"

I looked up. "You can take it off in the morning," I said, looking for a ring on my finger.

"I have piercings," he said. He pulled up his shirt to show me a wide nipple ring.

"It will have to come out," I said and looked at the checklist.

"And one here too." He pointed to his groin.

"Ah …" I said. "Will you be able to remove it? Maybe when you take a shower, you could try to remove them both?

He winced and laughed a little. "They are both new. I have not released them since I did them. "

I filled out the checklist and let Louis take a shower and try to get out his piercings. I would shave it then. When I came back a few minutes later to watch him, he was back in his room with his hospital gown.

"How did it go?" I asked.

"I have one," he said pointing to his chest. "I'm really sorry, I just can not unscrew the other. I guess it's going to have to come out?

"That will be the case," I said.

I closed the door of her room and shaved the hair of her legs and groin, making sure to cover the skin that I did not need.

"Good," I say. "Let me take gloves …" I took a pair of gloves in the wall and tried to remove the piercing. He stood firm.

"I'm really sorry," Louis said.

"It's good," I say. "I'm sorry if I hurt you." I held the metal in my fingers and tried to twist, but it did not move. "Maybe you could try again?"

I left Louis in the privacy of his room to try again to remove the piercing. Maribel, the other nurse of the night shift, was sitting in front of the computer of the nursing station.

"I have a problem," I told him softly. "The man I'm preparing for the theater has … metal works. I can not take it out. "

"Oh," she said. She looked up to one side as if she was sifting through her rich experience to give me an answer. "Do you want me to try?

I nodded. Maribel went to Louis's room and returned shortly thereafter.

"It's stuck," she says. "You will have to call the doctor and tell him."

I gave him the beep, but there was no answer.

"Try the registrar," said Maribel.

She must have noticed my expression. "That's good, Ms. Madeira is a kitten. I do not know why everyone is afraid of her. "

"I saw her on a tour of duty," I say. "She is so angry. She shouts all the time; even patients are afraid of it. "

Maribel laughed. "His operation will be canceled if you do not take out that padlock."

"Oh, no …" I said. I looked at the documents I had prepared: the theater checklist, the blood test results, the CT scan report, the electrocardiograms, all the information gathered to bring Louis up to that point. The thought of his operation being canceled because of this, my stomach sank.

I picked up the phone and rang the on-call clerk. Five minutes pbaded, then the phone rang, cutting the silence. "Hello, Ward 16, Nurse Speaks."

"I had a beep." It was Mrs. Madeira. his voice seemed far away.

"I'm really sorry to disturb you …" I began.

"What's that?"

"Mr. Sinclair. He will have a fem-pop bypbad tomorrow. "

"I know it."

"He has a bad piercing that I can not remove."

There was a silence at the end of the line. I've tried to imagine what the main clerk was doing.

"A bad piercing?"

"Yes," I said.

"And you can not take it off?"

"No I said." I tried, we all did it. "

"Find Karl, the doctor on call," Mrs. Madeira ordered.

"I think he's in another neighborhood, I can not get through," I said softly.

There was silence again. I thought I heard the hum of a vending machine in the background. I imagined Madame Madeira's face lit up in blue-white.

"Do you want me to participate?"

"I'm really sorry," I said.

"I can not believe it …" She hung up and heard the tone.

Ms. Madeira arrived an hour later. She was wearing a black suit with a thick gold necklace over her collar and a handbag with a big gold buckle attached to her chest.

"Where is he?" She said.

I showed him in Louis's room. He was asleep. She turned on the light and he woke up.

"Mr. Sinclair," she greeted him. "Your operation is tomorrow. Can I watch this? She gestured to her lower half and quickly removed the blanket and her underwear.

I've covered as much of it as possible so that only the required part is exposed.

Madame Madeira dropped to her knees. I knelt on the other side of the bed, ready to help.

"OKAY?" I half smiled at Louis. He nodded and rested his head back, eyes closed. He says sorry very gently again.

"Here," said Ms. Madeira. I held Louis's penis between two gloved fingers.

She started working quickly, as if she were a burglar trying to lock a lock. I could see why she could have chosen to specialize in vascular surgery: her fingers were long and thin, almost as if it were surgical instruments themselves. It was as if she had a strategy, but every time I thought the padlock had been unscrewed, she was biting her lip and sighing, indicating that it was not the case.

"A little bit of luck?" Louis ventured.

"Not yet, Mr. Sinclair," said Ms. Madeira. In front of the door, the room was silent. I hoped that neither Mathilda nor Maribel would look through the glbad. The doctor continued. I had never been immobilized for so long; I could feel my hand start to cram. "Graças a Deus!" Ms. Madeira suddenly said. "It's moving."

Louis mopped his forehead. I felt my hand relax a little.

"We did it." She released the piercing. I looked at her and saw that she was looking at me. I nodded.

"You have a good firm hand," she said, and with that she got up, took off her gloves, adjusted her trousers, washed her hands, and wished us a good night.

Louis and I smiled. "If you like, sleep a little, now," I said.

He nodded and slipped inside. "See you in the morning," I added.

"Graça a Deus!" He replied, closing the door behind me.

This is an edited excerpt of How to Treat People: A Nurse at Work by Molly Case, published by Viking on April 18 (£ 14.99). To order a copy, go to guardianbookshop.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK postage from £ 15 (online orders only). Minimum Phone Orders £ 1.99