As a disclaimer for anyone who finds this, this story is not about me, or anyone I know.
I’ve been wanting to make this blog for a while, as I have a lot to say about what i do.
I have just started my career as a medical assistant. I plan to continue my schooling but don’t know exactly what I want to do yet. I’m absolutely in LOVE with my job. I was born to help people, to be around them and comfort them in whatever small way I can in the capacity of my work environment. I am not a nurse, I am certainly not a doctor, so what I’m able to do is pretty limited. But I have a way with words, with people.
I am acutely aware and hypersensitive to the laws of HIPAA so I am not going to disclose my name, location, or the place of my business to further protect the identity of the patients I may write about here. PLEASE let me know if anything I have said is/could be a violation of HIPAA.
I started work as an MA about 2 months ago. I graduated from an accredited Medical Assisting (with multiple certifications as well as phlebotomy, EKG and patient care) school a few months back and it took a while to get my internship finished, so getting to start my job was an extremely exciting and welcomed new venture. I always wanted to be in the medical field, but I was afraid. After high school I did a few years of community college, completely floundering, and wound up dropping out. I had some pretty crappy jobs after that, always knowing if I wanted a real life for myself I’d have to get some kind of education. But I felt like a failure, and I sure as hell could never be a nurse if I couldn’t get through two years of community college. I was in a weird place for a while.
But anyway, that can be a story for another day. Fast forward about 6 years later and here I am, working in a field I love, feeling fulfilled every day.
And just so you all know, I work in an urgent care center, so you get a little bit of everything in there, from the common cold to heart attacks, strep throat to minor surgeries.
On my second or third day of work, a young man comes in with a lot of gastro symptoms. He was in a lot of pain with projectile vomiting and what he described as “mucous” in his stool. It had come on very suddenly, and he was obviously concerned. He told he had a history of pancreatitis and prostatitis and wasn’t sure what was going on. So I take his vitals, and as I’m speaking with him, I just get the sense that something is really wrong with this man. But now here I am, a few days into my new job, making fun of myself for trying to “be the doctor”. I tend to get carried away sometimes, and felt that I was probably making a stomach bug look like something much worse. You know how you can get when you’re really passionate and excited about something. I have always been very good at reading people and consider myself to have a pretty accurate 6th sense about a lot of things, but I am very aware of my little training and have such respect for all medical professionals, whether they are above or below me.
I go to tell the physician about what is going on with him, and she kind of laughs it off. She says. “he’s probably a dirty bird”, which I later came to learn meant she thought he had STDs. She had me draw labs on him, gave him some scripts and sent him on his way.
His labs came back abnormal (not sure what was what, I actually never looked at the lab work) but he must have been ordered a CT of his abdomen in the subsequent days to follow.
I was at my desk and the doctor handed me a piece of paper, telling me please call this patient immediately and tell him to come in today, as soon as he can. It’s urgent.
There was his name, I’ll never forget it, in big bold letters. I KNEW it. I was right. Something WAS really wrong with this guy. Because of the nature of the situation, one of the physicians wound up calling him, even though I really wanted to do it. The man came back later that day, we’ll call him Steven. He was told that he had a soft mass on the tail of his pancreas and was referred out to a gastroenterologist.
Steven calls the next day, I picked up the call. He tells me the story, I tell him I remember him (now this is about 2 weeks maybe after the first time him and I met that first day) and he remembers me as well. He’s in a panic because the gastro has no available appointments, he doesn’t know what to do and he’s freaking out. I knew he needed help, he needed to be told what to do, I was able to sense it. so I said to him, “Steven, take a deep breath. I’m going to call the gastro’s office, I’m going to get you in immediately. I’m going to fix this for you, don’t worry.” so I called and was able to get him an appointment first thing the next morning. They asked me if I could get him the new patient paperwork to quicken the process. I got a hold of the paperwork and I called him back. “Steven, I got you an appointment tomorrow morning. This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to come here to the clinic today when you can. I’m going to leave the paperwork for you to fill out, you’re gonna stay here while you do it. When you’re done, the girls in the front are going to give me the paperwork and I will fax it to the gastro as soon as you’re done and you will be all set, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” All the while he sounds like he’s going to cry, thanking me the whole time.
He comes in about 30 minutes later, and the office is SLAMMED. There’s 15 people in the waiting room, all rooms in the back are full, its total madness. Now remember, I’m brand spanking new to the field, its my second week as an MA, so my head is kind of spinning. But I saw him in the waiting room getting the paperwork. I pulled him aside and touched his arm and said, “I don’t know whats going on with you, but I want you to know you and your wife are in my thoughts. I’ve been thinking about you and I wish you luck”, he tells me how much that means to him and I’ll never know how much he appreciates my help.
So the next day comes, it turns out this specific gastroenterologist holds some of her appointments in our office. I was unaware of this and must have not been listening when someone told me that. He comes in the next morning with his wife for the appointment. After he was done, him and his wife were walking out, and he stops me, calls me by name and says, I’d like you to meet my life. He turns to his wife and says “this is the young lady who helped me yesterday” and she runs up to me and takes both of my hands and says thank you for your concern you didn’t have to do all of that. They both just looked so scared and appreciative and, they were so, so young.
I never found out what happened as he is no longer in our care, but I think about him every day. The reaction from him and his wife is a reminder every day that I have chosen the right field, that I am doing the right thing, that I can do so much good even with my limited education and knowledge. You need to care, you just need to have the biggest heart that your chest can possibly hold and THAT is what people are going to remember, whether they are coming in for a cold or for something much more serious. On my bad days, I think of Steven and his wife and thank God for the wonderful gift he’s given me. Because I view my people skills as a gift. Not everyone possesses the ability to care for strangers like your family.
I just hope and pray I don’t get too desensitized as the years go by.
The MA Chronicles 