Seems Like Old Times
Somehow I came across a stethoscope in my house which is either my original one from when I first started working at a dialysis unit or one of Johnny’s that was left behind after a visit. Either way, I have one for the moment.
Ben has been sick for a couple of days now and his condition seems to be degrading; He’s running a fairly high fever (103+) and is chalk full of joint pain (at least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the best description a 3 year old can provide). I figured I’d play with my old work gear and have a listen to his heart and lungs. It’s amazing how quickly I recalled the distinct sounds and how those sounds yanked out memories from 15 years ago. For me the sounds are more powerful than pictures, much like people describe with smells (I can’t smell anything but I’m told that “smell” has powerful recollection properties).
I remember the first time I heard a patient’s lungs being full of fluid. I didn’t know what the sound was so I asked my boss to have a listen and she clued me in as to what those “whispy” noises were, and how I could get a reasonable feel for how “full” the lungs were based on where I started hearing the sounds. And my first irregular heartbeat. And murmur. Shit, I knew as much as the doctors and nurses after a couple of years. Of course, I didn’t, but for a time I *thought* I did. I refer to that time as my “Tom was a pompous, blowhard ass” period.
Ben’s lungs sound “gunky”, shitty, but they’re not full of fluid. His heart is actually beating too fast (140bpm) for me to hear any detail though I’m sure an M.D. could get past that and figure if anything weird was going on. If Ben weren’t so sick, this would actually be fun.
Abigail asked if I was playing “doctor” and I thought to myself, “no way!, I’m playing dialysis tech”. I want to let her play with the stethoscope too but I’m afraid it might lead to her actually playing “doctor”, in the real scary sense for a Dad of a pretty little girl. I can just imagine her hooking up with Matthew (the 4 year old across the street) and… ahhh crappity crap… I need to stop imagining before I make myself sick. Maybe I’ll throw this thing in the trash or bury it in a drawer.
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