Finally found where I was supposed to be this morning. Had to sneak in through the ambulance entrance again. Why are all hospitals such terrible rabbit warrens?
All staff, men and women, share the same changing room for interventional radiology which seems very French, although you can use the shower cubicle if you’re shy/inhibited/foreign. The scrubs are a lovely sky blue, a flattering cut, and comfortable. It is possible! The hats are like a paper sock but actually fit well ( I can see I will need to add photos.) I was looked after by a very nice Italian anaesthetist called Francesca who was mocked all day for her atrocious French – she’s only lived here 18 months. Needless to say I kept my mouth shut. Still, I had a good idea what was going on most of the time and there are many differences in our practice. (Technical details ahead: they don’t do any sort of check in/time out; their equivalent of anaesthetic techs are nurses who do all the intubations and catheterizations; they don’t use arterial lines (but then I think their INRs are very quick); they run the cases on sevo instead of TIVA, to avoid movement and awareness; the anaesthetists manage the heparin dosing; all the records are automated; all patients are taken intubated to PACU and extubated by anaesthetic nurses there.)
We fitted in two cases in the morning, one a long emergency embolisation of a bleeding tongue tumour that had come via the ED theatre. Then we stopped for an hour for a lovely long lunch, with wine and oysters and all sorts of delicious nibbles. I wasn’t sure if this was a daily thing or just once a week, since it was Friday. Alas it turns out to be only an annual event, which explains the very long thank you session from Doctor Cheekbones* that preceded the food. My afternoon session was unfortunately interrupted by desperate calls from a young close relative who was coming perilously close to missing her second international flight in 48 hours. Luckily it turns out that all that “final check in time 90 minutes before take off” is just a load of hooey and when push comes to shove, they’ll take you right up until 45 minutes before. But, I wouldn’t recommend it, even if just for your mental wellbeing. Still, all’s well that ends well I suppose, and I celebrated with another solitary dinner at a cute little Italian place in town, fending off unwanted attention by staring at my phone, before heading back for another early night. Still on call for strokes but haven’t seen any thrombectomies yet. Is everyone just too relaxed in our final burst of Summer?
*Professeur Costalat, INR
