Grar

Mar. 9th, 2008 03:59 pm
squeefulfish: (Default)
See, there's a bit of a problem with having a brain that likes languages and figuring out things and that's that I can get irritated quite quite easily.

Take the word "primagravida." I'm sick sick sick of hearing it being used to refer to women who've not given birth before. Just because someone hasn't given birth doesn't mean it's their first pregnancy, which is the literal meaning of the word. Nulliparous is more appropriate. Even referring to someone as a primip - the now trendy way of saying primiparous - isn't right either because it's being used to refer to women who are still pregnant with their first. I'm guilty of using the word "multip", I admit, but only in relation to talking about cervical dilatation.

I've shouted from the hilltops about correct terms, or from the back of the class, whatever. Get yer sodding terminology right or we'll never be accepted as the trained professionals we are. Just because it's in Latin doesn't mean you don't have to know what it means! Ahem.

This post was brought to you today by the words "coffee", "lecture notes", "rollercoaster" and "nicotine withdrawal."

Right, off for choklit.
squeefulfish: (Default)
Sucky day. I was going to say "the sort of day that makes you cry" but then I realised that when you mention tears as often as I seem to be doing these days it means an awful lot less. All the same, had to struggle to hold back the tears at one point. One of Those Days doesn't come close (and I do realise that lack of details makes this far less interesting to read, but you're not getting any, 'k?) Emotionally, today was the worst yet. My words make a difference, made a difference and yet not enough of a difference, just wish someone had some nice ones for me. Today I was a midwife surrounded by medics. All of us lived up to our roles. And yet I still feel as if I failed the woman and failed myself for letting my emotions show.

So what do you do when you want to cry? You grit your teeth and keep it in, you're an uncaring bitch. Let it out, you're a cry baby. Alright, so perhaps not that extreme, but it's very very difficult to find the middle ground. Because it's not only me and the woman I need think about, but the reactions of my colleagues. Why should that even matter to me? How much can I leave my own life behind and how much do I want that to happen? My past has shaped me, it's led me to where I am now. So I can't exactly ignore it. But at the same time I can't let it interfere with my work because it's not me I'm looking out for. Will this get easier with time or does that just mean I'll get callous? Is it any wonder that the majority of midwives in service are fairly recently qualified? It's a job with enormous peaks of job satisfaction but also occasional huge troughs. And I know not every day is like today, but these are the days that make you think.

These are the things that keep me awake at night. Which I suppose in a way is a good thing. If I'm thinking about these things I can't be that bad, right?
squeefulfish: (Default)
I'm trying so hard to be delighted and optimistic about having passed delivery placement. Cos, well, the level required of me this year is exactly the same as what'll be required next year, which is... well, it makes for some intensity of emotions. But it's been One Of Those Days. And I don't think the chips I got to celebrate passing is enough. So instead I'll tell ye what I've been doing, apart from anything that's in any way identifying. Er. Hopefully, given what I'm about to talk about.

Spent a day in the annex recently - the 5 bed room where women stay after their labours have been induced by whatever means. [Note to self: check the research about nookie as a method of inducing labour.] Arrived back from my lunch to discover that I'd been "promoted" from "can we trust her to take someone's blood pressure?" to "three women in early labour? She can cope on her own. Oh, here, we'll give her her very own student as well." So yeah, that was a fun 7 hours, me happily showing my very own student how to do different things and having wonderful chats with the women while helping and encouraging them to mobilise. (Walking, really, it helps massively. Gravity is your friend when trying to push something through your pelvis.) I may also have been somewhat influential in some cases of pain relief. Discovered further, and further on in the evening, that certain important people had assumed I was a 2nd year. A second year postgrad. So woo me for rocking.

And I've passed the placement, my first major midwifery one since April/May. Still only two catches, but ya know what? That's ok. I'll start to worry if it's still at two in 4th year, until then I'm sticking to my principles. No amount of stern looks from tutors will convince me otherwise because I'm right.

This last month I've also seen my first ever forceps (yeowchies), first foetal bradycardia (60bpm over 3 minutes, I swear it felt like 3 hours - normal heartrate is 110-160 bpm) and first paternal collapse (knew that was coming, some people you just know can't handle the occasional ickiness of birth. Er, I mean the intensity of emotions associated with New Baby.) I also have skills I didn't know I had. I've seen the labouring pool in use as a yoga ball storage pit and I've been chased down the corridor by two very large green yoga balls. I've dropped a scrubs size, too, though I've remembered to eat at least two meals a day. Still haven't got a foggiest who half the docs are, though.

One more shift.

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squeefulfish

November 2012

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