Anaesthetic Registrar - Traudi Almhofer
Start of Day
"As I stumble into the changeroom at 7.15am on a Tuesday morning, I wonder what the day will have in store for me. Today I am the designated ward registrar for the morning in a busy public hospital. After changing into my scrubs, I head to the office to receive handover from the night registrar. She looks weary, having been up for most of the night operating on a series of urgent cases – a paediatric appendicectomy, an exploratory laparotomy, and an emergency caesarean section. There have been a few calls to follow up on about patients with acute pain, a couple of epidurals for women in the birthing suite, and several cases that have been booked for the emergency list the following day. One of those patients is an older man named Max. With a multitude of cardiac and respiratory comorbidities, he will need a perioperative review prior to his upcoming surgery. My day is starting to take shape… First Job of Day My first job for the day will be to accompany the acute pain nurses on their ward round for the morning. There are about 20 patients that will need to be seen. For some patients, the consultation will be mercifully brief and may only require checking that their regional anaesthetic block has worn off, or switching from parenteral to oral analgesia. Inevitably, however, the acute pain team will be consulted to see patients with complex pain histories, and uncontrolled acute or chronic pain. One of these patients happened to be John, a 63 year old man who had recently undergone an above knee amputation for severe peripheral vascular disease. I can see that he is suffering, his face is tense, his brow sweaty. Despite his patient-controlled analgesia (PCA), Ketamine infusion, sciatic nerve infusion, and multitude of oral analgesics, his phantom leg pain is out of control. I feel somewhat helpless – I can’t offer him an epidural because his antiplatelet therapy places him at high risk of bleeding around the spinal cord. An IV lignocaine infusion may help, but this would potentially cause local anaesthetic toxicity in combination with the sciatic nerve block. We realised we were caught between a rock and a hard place. After some discussion, we agree to trial calcitonin – it’s expensive and it may not work, but we have run out of other options. Deakin University promotion - PDF p.33 (Source: Deakin University) Code Blue
Toward the end of our visit with John, a ‘Code Blue’ rings out overhead. I
apologise to John and hastily make my way to the medical emergency occurring
on the other side of the hospital. As I arrive there are crowds gathered
outside the gentleman’s room. He has a small bowel obstruction, and his
proximal gut is so distended that he is unable to use his diaphragm
effectively to breathe. I introduce myself to the intensivist leading the
charge, and gain a quick history of preceding events. The plan is to
transfer the patient to the intensive care unit until a surgical theatre
becomes available. But we could see the patient is tiring, and with
impending respiratory failure evident, we make the decision to intubate the
patient prior to transfer. Hands trembling from adrenaline, I gather my
equipment together – laryngoscope -‘check!’ – endotracheal tube-‘check!’ –
syringe -‘check!’ – bougie-‘check!’ -. With fluid pouring out of his
nasogastric tube, he is at high risk of aspiration. I make a quick
assessment of his airway, and deliver 100% oxygen via a non-rebreather mask
– despite this, his oxygen saturation never makes it past 89%. “Are we ready
to go?” I ask. The nurse beside me provides cricoid pressure as the
intensivist administers the drugs. ‘Propofol in’. ‘Sux in’. And then we
wait. As the drugs take effect, I grasp my laryngoscope, and look into his
airway. My heart sinks – all I can see is his epiglottis without any sight
of his vocal cords to guide my tube placement. In the background, I can hear
the tone of the oximeter changing as the man’s saturations fall. I take the
tube and guide it underneath his epiglottis, hoping for the best. I connect
the self-inflating bag and thankfully his chest moves as I squeeze the bag.
My hands are shaking as I tie the tube into place and breathe a sigh of
relief. I can’t help but feel that on this occasion I have made a lucky
escape.
Max Having stabilised the patient in the intensive care unit, it was onto the next job of seeing Max who was booked for a laparoscopic cholecystectomy to treat his gallbladder infection. I take a look through his file – cardiac bypass grafts, heart failure, diabetes. Previous anaesthetic charts indicate that he has a “difficult airway” and when I walk into his room, I can see why. Obese, scarred bull neck, no chin. When I ask, Max tells me he has very severe sleep apnoea but hasn’t gotten around to organising a CPAP machine yet. As we talk, an anaesthetic plan starts coming together in my mind. Once done, I explain my plan of attack – because of his heart, we will need to order an echo preoperatively, and use an arterial line to keep a close eye on his blood pressure. Because of his sleep apnoea, he will need to be transferred to ICU postoperatively. I then advise him that because of his difficult airway, we will need to intubate his trachea using only local anaesthetic – while he is awake. Unfortunately, this last recommendation becomes a major sticking point, and after some thought, the patient withdraws his consent for the surgery. I am disappointed with the outcome, but the risk of any other technique for Max was simply too high. Afternoon List
Finally, it’s time to start my afternoon list – a single case – a
laparoscopic left sided hemicolectomy for bowel cancer in an otherwise well
woman. As I put in my drips and arterial line we chat about work, kids,
holidays, and the excellent safety record of modern anaesthesia. Part of my
job is reducing the anxiety that every patient feels when they enter the
operating room. The conversation continues as I inject the propofol that
renders her unconscious. I intubate the airway, set the ventilator, and
position the patient for surgery while taking care of pressure areas. I
administer a carefully balanced cocktail of medications to maintain
anaesthesia, provide analgesia, prevent nausea, paralyse the muscles, and
control her blood pressure. A warming blanket helps to keep her temperature
normal. Lastly, I organise a plan for pain-relief and hydration for after
the operation before sitting down to write my notes. I will continue to
monitor her for the next three hours, making adjustments as necessary to
maintain homeostasis until it is time to wake her up. Provided there are no
intraoperative complications the remainder of the day should go smoothly,
but after a hectic morning I am looking forward to a more predictable
afternoon. As I sit in my chair, I am reminded of why I love my job. Every day is unique, and every day offers an opportunity to try something different, learn something new, and make a small difference to someone who truly needs it."
The following information is taken directly from Facebook - Inspiring Doctors, February 7, 2019 Profile #38 – Dr. Traudi Almhofer
Childhood aspirations? Pathway to medicine? My mother always wanted me to be a doctor.
Unfortunately, due to a medical error, her cancer was not diagnosed until it
had metastasised widely and she passed away when I was 15 years old. I hated
the medical profession for taking her away from me, and I vowed I would
never become “one of them”. Instead I began studying disability studies,
then changed to bachelor of psychology which was just not a good fit for me.
I then changed into a Bachelor of nursing degree. I didn’t enjoy the
classwork, but I loved the hands on clinical side, and felt very privileged
to be caring for patients during a period of vulnerability. Despite this, I
never felt particularly challenged by nursing, and I felt uncomfortable with
knowing what I was supposed to do, without knowing why I was doing it.
Throughout my nursing practice I met doctors who inspired me greatly, and I
met others who were, to be honest, not very pleasant to patients and nursing
staff alike, and I wondered why they were even in the profession to begin
with. By this time some of the wounds had healed and I thought I might have
something to more to offer. So I sat the GAMSAT. No-one was more surprised
than me when I passed, let alone was offered a place at Deakin University.
Pathway to your specialty? My pathway began on my very first day at med school. I remember being surrounded by all of these incredibly intelligent and socially fluent people, and feeling so awkward and out of my league - I felt like a complete fraud and felt like I didn’t really fit the mould. By the end of the first week of biochemistry I was terrified I wouldn’t even make it through the first semester. I threw myself into studying my guts out, and it became a pattern of behaviour to cope with the social anxiety and fear of failure that I was experiencing. Given most of our marks were pass/fail, I had no idea that I was actually doing quite well and at the end of my degree I was shocked to learn that I had achieved a number of awards, including the dux of my year. I think this made me stand out to employers and I was offered my preference of internship and placements. I worked hard through internship and residency and received very positive assessments, which I believe gave me leverage in getting the rotations I wanted, which I geared toward a critical care specialty. I adored my anaesthetic rotations - I loved the procedural aspect of the specialty, the pharmacological manipulation of physiological variables, and the brief, but intense patient relationships that you develop. While teamwork is essential, the team is often quite intimate and it is still fairly independent practice - there is a lot of time where it is just you and the (often unconscious) patient - this suited my social misfit personality to a tee. I felt so comfortable in the theatre environment, anaesthesia was a natural choice for me. I arrived early and left late, saw all my patients, came up with plans, read widely, and asked lots of questions. Thankfully my bosses saw my potential, and I was offered a training position as a PGY4.
What gives you joy in your life? My two children are the reason I breathe. The smell of their hair, the way their eyes light up when I get home from work, the unconditional love they give, their peaceful faces as they drift off to sleep, and the cuddles….oh the cuddles. They make every shitty thing you’ve experienced that day just melt away… How do you balance that with a career in medicine? Not well! Theatre hours are usually quite long, a
fair amount of shift work, and there are two exams to study for. Throw in a
Masters degree and a few other courses, travel time, and suddenly you rarely
see your children. But sometimes you need a reminder to prioritise what is
truly important in life, and for me this came in the form of my son’s autism
diagnosis. I realised that I needed to be a more focused and deliberate
parent going forward. As I was thrown into the world of a ‘therapy mum” it
became very clear that advocating for my child would consume a significant
portion of my time and mental and emotional reserve. There was no way I
could reconcile this with my desire to be a perfect registrar and I’ve had
to settle for just being “good enough”. This year I have made the decision
to prioritise my children and my health further, and hence have moved to
regional Victoria for a more relaxed pace of life, less travel time, and an
anaesthetic department that is very supportive of work-life balance. How do you look after your own well being? Another work in progress! By PGY5 I had progressively
socially isolated myself and training/exams had consumed me. I recognised
that I was burned out but chose to ignore those warning signs as I didn’t
want to be a burden to the department I worked for, or my family. My burnout
deteriorated into major anxiety and depression which affected my confidence
at work and my relationships with family and friends. I am ashamed to admit
that I used self harm to emotionally regulate myself, and occasionally
questioned the point of my existence. Finally it clicked that this was not
normal, and I sought help from my GP. I was on an SSRI by the end of the
consultation, and I’ve never looked back. I have chosen to be open about my
experience with mental illness to raise awareness, and to help address the
stigma, but also so those who know me can recognise if I deteriorate again.
I try to regularly check in with my brain to see if we’re doing ok, and I
keep in regular contact with my GP. It’s still hard to carve out time for
myself, but I’m getting much better at saying no to additional tasks. I’ve
learned to recognise when I am vulnerable and that reaching out for help is
not a sign of failure. What are you most proud of in your life? I am proud that I have been able to maintain my
humility and compassion in my practice. What makes you unique as a doctor? I have a fair amount of lived experience, which means
I often relate well to many of my patients and can help them feel at ease
relatively quickly. Also, I understand more about the nursing role and their
scope of practice and hence have been able to develop great relationships
with many of the fabulous nurses I work with which makes for a great team
environment. If you could send a message back in time, what would you say to yourself ten years ago? Back yourself, you can do it!
The Vocabulary of an Anaesthetic Registrar! Primary Middle Secondary Australian Curriculum General Capability: Literacy
1. As you read through the sections of Dr Traudi's life, you would have come across words you didn't recognise. Write down as many words as possible in a list. Compare with a partner. 2. Using a Word Cloud, such as WordCloud Generator by MonkeyLearn, create an Anaesthetic Registrar's word cloud. 3. Using Merriam-Webster's Medical Dictionary, look up and write up the meaning of 3 words you thought were interesting!
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