Her mom said “Oh, honey…”. She replied “Oh, it’s no big deal, it’s nothing you wouldn’t see at a beach”, as she was turning and pointing to bruises in various locations “…see? Here, and here…. and here…” The moment I could speak, I said “…uh…let me get the doc.” I whisked myself out, made an instant deal with a female partner RN to swap patients as I called for the doc. Before and after that encounter, I had never been overwhelmed like that, even with intimate procedures or care for similar patients in hospital- but this particular scenario just vaporized my clinical detachment. It felt like an emergency to me to get my happy posterior out of that space ASAP. It’s not that I would have “done’ anything- but if something like that could snuff out my inner nurse, I was the wrong person to be there- Even if I could bring the whole thing to a clinically acceptable resolution in concert with the doc.
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