The Blood Runner

Internship is that phase of life where you are at the bottom of the medical “food chain”- the one who is grabbed for the most ordinary affairs in a hospital. It is perhaps actually a humble beginning of a medical career when we come out of the thick books of medicine and see the real world. We draw blood, run tests, and fill forms. We perform dressings, catheterizations and what not. Besides we also learn the art of “getting things done” in this phase of our lives. We beg, we persuade or we fight to get things done, again the petty things done. However, internship never comes with a job requirement. The requirements are all relative- relative to the needs of a particular department or your seniors. Hence, our jobs have innumerable ramifications that make us “act” myriad roles in the “stage” called the “hospital”. I intend to share an incident that emerged from one of these ramifications.

I was posted in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology for my Compulsory Rotatory Internship. It had been quite a lot of time and I had already come to know about the “Art of surviving” in the department. It was a post-emergency day and I was to go to the operation theatre (OT). The OT started sharp at 8 am. The relatively simpler operations were posted earlier which included the cervical biopsies and the check curettages. By 10 am, the professors arrived. Then started the hysterectomies and the Caesarean sections. My job was simple- to label the samples, to fix them in formalin and to get them ready to be sent to the lab and to assist in the surgeries. (By assisting, I mean critical steps like holding the retractor, mopping the surgical field and by luck getting to put a couple of skin sutures). I continued doing this job until 2 pm.

It was after this that I started feeling hungry. My eyes were tired admiring the professor’s skill in performing two hysterectomies. But, my stomach started revolting and I realized that I had to get my lunch. Still, the last surgery was remaining. It was of a lady with a Choriocarcinoma who was to get her uterus removed. My hunger exceeded my interest in the surgery and I asked the junior-most resident whether I could leave. She was considerate enough and granted me a permission to leave. I changed my scrubs and got out of the OT.

I ran towards my hostel and went to the mess. It was almost empty. The mess closed at 3 pm. I got a plate and started serving myself. And as I was to take some rice, my cell phone rang. It was the same junior resident who had given me leave. I was in two minds. Should I pick up the phone? If I did, I knew that she would call me back. If I did not, I could have my lunch in peace. Peace was good. I did not know why I took a hurried decision and answered the call. The resident seemed to be running. She gasped and said “Blood. We need 3 points of blood urgently. The patient is pouring out blood on the OT table. Come back immediately!” I said, “But I am eating…” The phone was already hung up. Again I was in two minds. Should I go? If I did not, I could enjoy my much earned lunch that my stomach was craving for. Besides, I knew that there would be someone who would have to run for the blood. The blood bank was 600 meters away and I could barely run without food getting into the stomach. So, I made a second decision. I put back the plate and took a friends motorcycle.

I went back to the hospital. My stomach was revolting this madness. However, I kept my calm and knew what needed to be done. After filling up the forms hurriedly, I reached the OT to get the cross match. An attendant was standing there who said, “Sir, Madam has already reached the blood bank.” I started running again and finally reached the blood bank. There were 2 residents already there waiting for the blood to get issued. The lab assistant at the blood bank had already done all the tests and the blood was already issued. My stomach grumbled over my folly. However, the documents needed to be signed by a resident posted in the blood bank. The resident was having his lunch and was not in the blood bank. This meant that he would have to resolve his dilemmas and finally make it to the blood bank. This was made simpler by one of the two residents from OBGY. She called this resident on duty and scorned her. What we needed was a simple sign. But we knew that each second that passed meant more and more blood being lost by the patient inside the OT. We looked at each other. The residents gave themselves some signals and grabbed the blood bags. The senior resident took them and started running away. The attendant was too old to run after her.  So, she managed to reach the entrance of the blood bank. It was by this time that I realized that they were stealing blood. I knew this was wrong to get blood out of the blood bank without the resident’s signature. But, if we waited for the resident it would mean that we were risking the life of our patient. I again made a decision. I started running. By now, I could feel myself becoming hypoglycemic. I ran and grabbed the blood bags from the resident and started running. I had the advantage of running faster than my residents. So, I ran up to the OT and found a faculty member already waiting for the blood. I gave the blood to her and then she started running into the OT. By the time, my head started spinning and I sat for a while. The operation was successful and the patient was alive after the surgery. 3 points of blood were transfused intra-operatively. After the surgery, I asked the residents if I could leave. They said that I could if I wished. I declined and said, “No, tell me what else is left?” My stomach had by then realized the futility in revolting. They said, “Blood Bank!”

I had forgotten about the stolen blood story. I went with the two residents into the blood bank. The Resident in charge had completed his lunch and had reached the blood bank. He said, “The Blood Bank Officer is on phone.” The junior resident grabbed the phone and was scolded badly for the whole stunt. We were asked to meet him in his office for what we had done. We agreed. Signed all the documents that needed to be signed and finally left the blood bank. I looked at my cell phone. It was already 4.30pm. The mess was already closed down. I grabbed a sandwich from the canteen and had a cup of tea. My stomach was too dumb struck to express its gratitude. I went back to my room and went fast asleep.

The next day, we completed our remaining round of scolding for such an “irresponsible” behavior. I then went to the ICU to meet this patient. She was still quite disoriented. It was after 7 points of blood that were transfused to this lady that she restored a descent hemoglobin value. It was after a week that she could get out of bed and speak normally. She was perhaps told about the whole incident. So, every time, we went for rounds, she used to join hands and say “Thank you!” And each time she did that, all of us had a laugh over all the crazy things that we did to save her life. We may not have performed the hysterectomy ourselves but we did help in some small way or the other.

Amid all the mundane things we do, there are a number of choices we make in life. Some are good ones and some are bad. However, some of the choices made are the right ones. They may put us through grave times. We may have to fight with a million people (from your own stomach to a blood bank in charge).  But when we look at what we got out of the choices made, it makes us forget our follies making us happier than we ever were. And this happiness increases exponentially if it was a life that we could save after making the correct choices. That day on I became the “blood runner” of our unit.

Then, one day, when I was taking the BP of this very lady, one of the residents called at me, “Hey Blood Runner, get her ECG done.” I nodded, looked back at the lady and said "For you, a thousand times over."