This week started off backwards. One moment I was the “doctor,” standing over a patient for a procedure. And the next moment I was on the ground with doctors and nurses surrounding ME. I fainted, known in the medical world as “vasovagal syncope,” an autonomic reaction stimulated by stress that drops blood pressure and causes temporary loss of consciousness.
I wasn’t prepared for this episode at all. I was looking forward to the hospital for my call shift on Sunday. I woke up before my alarm and got there 30 minutes early. I finished morning rounds, and was preparing to admit a transfer patient with a possible history of seizures.
Then, I stopped to help one of the interns replace a G-tube (gastric feeding tube) on a baby. The baby was uncomfortable, and I was helping to keep him still. Suddenly I started to feel light-headed…BAM!
My mind became totally empty, and oddly peaceful. I’m not sure what happened, but I awoke and was surrounded. The nurse was saying something about a code. Suddenly I realized… I had fainted and the code was for me. Panic! What a great way to begin my second week.
Then I was taken to the ER… in a wheelchair. Apparently I hit my head on the way down, was unresponsive for over a minute and didn’t have a pulse. I had never fainted like this before in my life. While being wheeled down the hallway, all the pediatric residents were running to the “pediatric code.” They were relieved that no baby was dying. It was just me, the medical student.
From the moment I gained consciousness, my mouth was dry. I wanted a glass of water and to pee. However, I got an authentic patient experience of not feeling in control. I was attached to a heart rate monitor, then an ECG, and finally a glowing oxygen saturation clip on my finger. I had to put on a hospital gown. Despite being thirsty and having to pee, nobody would detach me or bring me water.
Different people asked me the same questions: name, date of birth, etc. The billing lady came in 3 times because she couldn’t find me (my name was spelled wrong) and then I wasn’t listed as an employee (because I’m a student) Then, she informed me that I probably wasn’t eligible for any compensation for the ER costs. Fine.*
Everybody wanted to know how I hit my head, but I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know what happened if I was unconscious? I waited in a curtained compartment under the bright fluorescent lights, feeling pretty agitated (full of hypochondriac medical student thoughts). Finally, the doctor came in.
He was my Physical Diagnosis professor. He did a thorough exam on me, even borrowing my light to check my pupils. Then, he said I could go back to my shift. Finally, after an hour I got to pee, and then headed back to my ward.
Everyone was kind. They said this happens a lot, and they were glad I was ok. They sent me home early to rest, eat, drink fluids, etc. I wasn’t sure if I should stay or go, and maybe I’ll regret going later. But, I did feel pretty shaken up, so I went. First, I sat in the hallway and drank a huge glass of water and inhaled my lunch.
On the bright side, I have a personal experience of my hospital’s emergency department, and a print-out of my very own ECG and hospital note (which I later used to design a nifty banner for the top of this website). The nurse handed copies to me, and said, “Here’s for your studying pleasure.” She knows medical students well.
I feel almost 100% now. I just find myself feeling anxious that it will happen again, and I’m not sure I can prevent or predict it. I have seen much grosser things than G-tubes, so I’m not sure why I reacted that way. I figure I just need more sleep, food and fluids. This week is going well… thankfully no more codes.
*As of September 9, I received an bill for my brief ER visit, which mistakingly did not include my insurance information and included a $200 “pulmonary func,” which was not performed. Although I was ashamed by the errors and cost of my own university hospital, I was not surprised and am negotiating via snail-mail letters. Nevertheless, reading “You owe: $1,500″ reminded me the aftermath that my patients must go through.
That your physical diagnosis professor, after a thorough exam, said you could go back to your shift must have been a huge relief to you. But a good decision to go home early I think.
Hopefully, this is your first and only vasovagal. And keep pushing those fluids. I’m not the doctor and you almost are, but if I were, I’d prescribe those fluids.
I hope the rest of your week goes well and you get some sleep.