Radiographers Do It In Monochrome

Radiographers Do It In Monochrome

(Fun Working as a Radiographer)

Published by

B. B. Blunt

Copyright B B Blunt 2017

Smashwords License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient, If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, locations and incidents portrayed in this book and the names herein are fictitious. Any similarity to or identification with the locations, names, characters, incidents or history of any person, product or entity in coincidental and unintentional.

The hospitals mentioned in this book do not exist; they are a figment of my imagination.

Finally, the NHS is a publicly funded national healthcare system for England. It was formed on 5th July 1948. Free healthcare at point of use comes from the core principles at the founding of the NHS in 1948. It is the envy of the world.

There is no intention to belittle the work done by any employee working for the NHS. I believe they do a tremendous job with insufficient resources and under great stress, but with compassion and respect for their patients and with buckets of humour.

Chapter 1 - Toothbrush!

‘It’s a toothbrush. Definitely a toothbrush,’ said Rachel with wonder in her voice as she and Steph at the outline on the fluorescent screen. ‘I can even see the tiny hole in the handle where it can be hung on a hook.'

’Did Mr. Stafford say how it happened?' asked Steph.

Rachel shrugged, 'He was cleaning his teeth.’ Steph waited, but the girl didn’t explain.

‘OK, but how did he manage to swallow it? Shoving a toothbrush down your throat isn’t normal dental hygiene practice. Was he trying to scratch his tonsils?’

‘His toothbrush is one of those you can rub your tongue with, and he was doing that when he heard the doorbell. He jumped and the toothbrush slid down his throat.’

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star could be heard tinkling from outside the X-ray room.

‘What’s that?’ asked Steph.

The student radiographer laughed, ‘It’s his boxer shorts. He said he was naked when he cleaned his teeth and when he realised he had to get to hospital he pulled on the first pair of boxer shorts he found. They were from an ex-girlfriend last Christmas. He says he's never worn them and he doesn’t know how to turn them off.’

Steph, the older and more experienced radiographer, thought she'd seen it all, but every now and again the people who appeared for an X-ray surprised her. She may become tired with long hours, but she loved her colleagues – well, most of them - and she was never bored.

‘How did he get here?’ she asked.

Rachel laughed again. ‘Before he could decide what to do the doorbell rang and he opened the door to a motorcycle courier with a parcel for him. He told the courier what had happened and they decided not to wait for an ambulance. The patient doesn’t drive.’

Steph laughed. ‘So, he arrived at hospital on the back of a motorbike in just his boxer shorts? It’s a wonder his appearance didn’t cause accidents.’

‘Not quite,’ said Rachel. ‘On the way here, they were pulled over by a police officer who told our patient to get off the bike and demanded to know the reason he was travelling, in the rain, almost naked on the back of a motorcycle and without a helmet. Both Mr. Stafford and the courier tried to explain, but the policeman thought it was a wind-up and refused to take them seriously. After all, how many times does a policeman come across someone who claims he swallowed his toothbrush? It was only when he was presented with the courier’s credentials and had seen the packages in the pannier he half accepted the situation. He sent the courier on his way and brought the patient here. He's gone for a coffee but will be back soon to see if an X-ray proves Mr. Stafford’s story. I think that if this had been a joke our patient would have been carted off to the nick pronto.’

‘Let’s back track. Why would he want to rub his tongue?’ she asked in mystification. ‘No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. It doesn't seem to have caused any damage so far, but the toothbrush can't progress through his stomach and intestines so the consultant will, I'm sure, decide to admit him.'

They had another look at the outline of the toothbrush on the image on the screen before Rachel went through to the X-ray waiting area and told the man he needed to wait for the consultant. Still wearing only boxer shorts and trainers, he looked a comical figure. Five other patients, all clutching X-ray request forms, were seated as far away as possible from the nearly naked man, although they were clearly enjoying the sole entertainment available in the stark waiting area.

The police officer appeared, so to prevent further titillation in the waiting room Steph asked the policeman to follow her around a corner out of earshot then informed the officer that the image confirmed the existence of a toothbrush.

‘Can I see it?’ asked the officer.

‘No, you can’t,’ said Steph.

‘Go on, let me have a quick gander. I can’t leave unless I know this isn’t a wind-up.’

‘No, you can’t see it and this isn’t a wind-up. I can assure you the toothbrush is definitely in Mr. Stafford’s stomach. Even patients aren’t allowed to see their X-rays unless a consultant shows them,’ she explained.

The policeman displayed a hangdog look. ‘My sergeant will have my guts for garters if I admit I didn’t see the X-ray myself,’ he said.

Steph sighed theatrically. ‘OK, but only if Mr. Stafford agrees.’

They returned to the waiting room and asked the patient’s permission for the police officer to look at the X-ray. Mr. Stafford signed, ‘OK then but be quick. I want to know what will to happen to me.’

Once the officer had left, no doubt with a story to tell his colleagues, Steph returned to her student.

'Ah Rachel, could you reassure Mr. Stafford and stress he's not to pop off anywhere, and he mustn’t have anything to eat or drink.'

'Do you think I'm in danger of it damaging my stomach?’ The patient looked understandably concerned. He was twenty-six, Rachel calculated, from the date of birth on the X-ray referral form. She faced the man knowing hospital policy dictated the radiographer could not offer any information about what she'd seen in the image. The radiographer's role was to take clear images, from various angles if required, and send the digital images to a consultant radiographer who would decide whether any action needed to be taken. Rachel knew that some small items could pass through the stomach and bowel but others, like a toothbrush, wouldn't make its way around. An operation would be essential but she couldn't tell the worried man, although anyone with half a brain should realise an operation was needed.

'I can't say. The consultant will answer your questions. He'll be here in about twenty minutes,' Rachel smiled reassuringly. ‘I suggest you sit down and have a look through some magazines while you wait.'

'Thanks, but I think I'll go and have a coffee and come back in a few minutes,' he replied.

Rachel knew this was not a wise move as if an emergency operation was required it would be safer for the patient to have refrained from any food or drink. She couldn't tell him that, as he'd then realise he was going to need an operation, although anyone with more than a sprout for a brain would know the toothbrush wouldn’t reappear of its own accord.

'Mr. Stafford, it's better you remain here just in case the consultant arrives soon. He won't like his time wasted while we wait for you to return,' said Rachel, realising that in her first year at university she was already getting into the psychology of patient management. ‘Also, I suggest you put back on the gown you wore for the X-ray. You'll feel more comfortable if you have more of your body covered.’

The man did as he was told and the Rachel read out the next name on the list of patients to be X-rayed, ‘Simon Easton.’ A stocky middle-aged man stood up, but before Rachel could ask him to follow her, an elderly lady called out, ‘Ay love, you couldn’t let this young man go first, could you?’ Rachel turned to see who she was referring to. It was a young man, probably still a teenager, wearing a dirty T-shirt and jeans with huge slashes at the knees.

The stocky man said, ‘But it’s my turn. He came last.’

‘I know,’ replied the old lady, ‘but we can’t keep sitting here with that smell. Let him go first, there’s a love.’ Noises of agreement came from the other four patients.

‘OK,’ shrugged the stocky man, sitting down.

Interesting, Rachel thought and asked the young man his name.

‘Dale White.’

‘Right Mr. White, follow me.’

The lanky youth stood up, and when Rachel showed him into the cubicle where he was to don the faded hospital gown, she could not miss the slashes at the seat of the jeans showing grubby underpants. Yuk! As he moved in front of her an acrid smell of unwashed body and stale and sweaty clothes attacked her nasal passages. Yuk and double yuk! Realisation dawned why the old lady wanted him to jump the queue.

In the imaging room she noticed that to add to his unattractiveness he had almost a dozen earrings in each ear, a spike sticking out below his bottom lip and tattoos on his hands, arms and neck. The job sheet said he needed an image of his arm. Rachel was glad it wasn't his head as the amount of metal may have caused a problem. She preferred boys who didn't look like scrap metal merchants.

She looked more closely at one of the tattoos on his lower arm. It said ‘Carl’ and was surrounded by what looked like a thin green snake with large red blotches. The patient saw her looking. ‘Yeah, everyone asks me what it means,' he said. 'It’s the name of an ex, except her name is Carol. The idiot left out the ‘o’. I stupidly let someone practise on me while he was training. The stupid prat was so busy talking codswallop he didn’t realise what he was doing. It’s worse now she isn’t my girlfriend any more. That's his fault too. I can’t afford to have it removed. My life sucks.’

Noting the resignation in his voice Rachel decided not to ask why Carol left him, but the boy, sighing, continued, ‘When she saw this tattoo she felt her friends would laugh at her, so she dumped me.’

Steph had approached and heard most of the boy’s explanation, and couldn’t resist asking, ‘Could you not sue the tattooist? You should receive a good amount of money which could pay for the removal of the tattoo.’

The patient, who had clearly heard it all before, rolled his eyes and said, ‘Actually, he's my brother. I can’t sue him. My family would chuck me out, he didn’t have insurance and he's absolutely stony broke. I suppose you've noticed the rose twined around my ex’s name? It’s supposed to be roses but everyone says it looks like a snake with red boils. He couldn’t even get that right. The idiot.’

Steph stayed behind the screen and watched Rachel as she took two images of his arm. In the windowless room the young man’s lack of personal hygiene was like a particularly nasty cloying scent. The suspected fracture wasn’t there. That would be one piece of good news for the lad, she thought as she told him to return to see the doctor in A&E. As he shuffled towards the exit, he left behind a view of his buttocks, and the decidedly unpleasant body odour. She wondered whether he'd stopped bathing since his girlfriend left and was sure no young lady would be attracted to him in his current malodourous state.

While Rachel popped to the toilet, the next in was a rather large man in his forties who was hobbling. He handed his form to Steph. ‘Hello Mr. Williams, could you go into the changing room, remove your trousers and put on the gown that is hanging on the hook please.’ The patient did so and Steph called him through to the imaging room. She confirmed his name and date of birth, and quickly took an X-ray of his pelvis. When she was showing him out, he asked if he could buy a copy of the X-ray.

‘We don’t usually do that, sorry.’

‘I’d really like a copy please, it’s for my girlfriend.’

Steph had come across this type of request before, and explained that it wasn’t hospital policy to provide copies of X-rays, unless it was in ultrasound for pregnancy scans.

‘I really want a copy. I will pay £10,’ the man replied.

Steph doubted that £10 would be sufficient. ‘Why does your girlfriend want to see your X-ray?’

‘It’s her birthday soon, and it will be unique. I want to hang it in our bedroom window where the light will catch it.’

Weirder and weirder, thought Steph. While she was formulating a response, and ready to escort the man out into the corridor, he elaborated, ‘I know I’ve got a huge you-know-what and want her to see how low it hangs. She will be reminded daily of what a good stud she has.’

For once, Steph was speechless. She had seen his penis on the image and it was certainly a little larger than the norm, however they came in an amazing range of sizes, and this patient’s penis wasn’t particularly eye-popping. ‘As you are returning to A&E, why don’t you ask the doctor if he can authorise you having a copy?’ Mr. Williams seemed content with that, and hobbled off.

One to tell Stuart, she thought. Surely hanging an image of a dangling penis in the window of a bedroom was considered porn? Takes all sorts.

Steph was pleased with Rachel. As a first-year radiography student, she was inquisitive, asked sensible questions and should do well, but the girl was a little ingenuous in some respects. She sometimes took things literally. The previous week when Steph had asked her to run down to the records’ office to collect a patient’s file, the student had returned in two minutes, red-faced, sweating and puffing, and proudly presented the file to her senior. As Steph took it, she realised Rachel had literally run there and back, so had to remind her that running was not allowed, for obvious reasons such as slips, trips and falls.

Four months before, a doctor had rushed in response to an emergency call to a visitor on a ward who suffered a cardiac arrest, and had slipped, not on the proverbial banana skin, but on spilt coffee in the corridor. Steph was the radiographer on duty and took images of his left arm and leg, both of which were fractured. He insisted on seeing the images and swore softly when he saw the breaks. Later, the hapless doctor heard that he'd have been third in the race to the patient, as two colleagues had already reached him and successfully saved his life.

As usual, there were far more female radiography students than males. Having more men would be useful. Some bashful male patients preferred to be seen by someone of the same sex, and, in certain situations, having a strong male to help lift heavy patients was invaluable. There was a misconception that having male staff was advisable when dealing with drunken patients; in Steph's opinion, most male drunks responded better to a female. If a male member of staff were present, whether a radiographer, porter or doctor, the intoxicated male patient was more likely to become aggressive and take a swing at the other male. Females who had imbibed too much generally didn't respond well to either sex and also had the greatest vocabulary of four letter words.

During a lull in patients, Steph and Rachel were enjoying coffee and biscuits. Many radiographers brought in such 'goodies' to share with colleagues. Most of the female staff moaned about not being able to resist temptation and begged people not to be so generous. There was always someone on a diet and having such tempting and high calorie treats were welcomed but regretted later, on the scales. Male staff, on the other hand, were happy to dive in and vacuum up cakes, sweets, biscuits and pizzas, without any concerns for their figures. Sometimes fruit was brought in, and the women knew there was little competition and could guarantee there would be plenty left at break time.

'Rachel, what brought you to radiography?' Steph asked.

'My aunt is a radiographer down south and all my life she's been telling us funny stories about her colleagues and patients. It seemed an interesting and fulfilling job.'

'You weren't interested in becoming a radiotherapist?'

'I talked about it with my aunt but I know that only about one in nine people studying radiography become radiotherapists, so I wasn't sure if that would mean there were more opportunities as a radiotherapist, or fewer and when she told me what they did I wasn't sure I could handle the responsibility.' Rachel reached for her fifth chocolate digestive biscuit and dunked it into her coffee.

'I know what you mean,' said Steph, 'I'm happy taking images of patients, but I wouldn't want to have to administer chemicals to cancer patients for chemotherapy or do radiotherapy. The thought of a minor slip up on my part seriously affecting an already ill patient would worry me too much. It'd be unforgivable to give them too much or not enough radiation. And then there are the other parts of their job, like Barium meals and enemas etc.'

Rachel was nodding her head in agreement. 'On the other hand,' she said, 'we may only see the same patient once or twice and don't see them after they've been treated, but radiotherapy radiographers can see the same patient over and over, from the beginning when treatment is planned, then during the treatment, then possibly after at the post-treatment review stage.'

'Yes, they build up relationships with their patients. It must be awful if a patient doesn't respond to the treatment and dies.' Steph shuddered. 'I couldn't handle that.'

Student radiographers had to spend several months each year in placements in hospitals. They came from anywhere in the north of England, and even further afield. Some were from universities beyond reasonable travelling distance, so needed to bring all their belongings with them, often including bedding.

The waiting room bell sounded. Steph put down her almost empty coffee mug and went out to the waiting area, Rachel following, keen to learn as much as possible. A tall dark-haired man holding a newspaper was standing and looking at the rows of empty chairs. His brow was puckered and he looked confused.

Steph approached him, hand out. 'May I see your X-ray referral form?' His response was to look even more confused.

'I'm looking for my wife,' he said.

'Is she having an X-ray?' asked Steph.

'Yes, I thought she'd be here.' He waved the folded newspaper to indicate the empty seats, as if his wife might mysteriously appear, like the Tardis, thought Rachel.

'There aren't any patients at the moment,' Steph told him. 'What's her name?'

'Celia Fronge,' the man said. Steph hadn't X-rayed anyone of that name, and she knew Rachel hadn't either.

'She hasn't been here yet. Maybe she's taken a wrong turning and will arrive soon.'

'I suppose that's possible, but I let her out at the entrance, parked the car, then bought a newspaper and came up here. She should be here by now. She'll be annoyed if I turn up late. She’s always moaning at me. At the moment I can’t do anything right.’

'What's she being X-rayed for?' asked Steph. The man's next answer cleared up the problem.

'To see if we're having twins.'

Steph caught Rachel's eye and hoped she wasn't going to burst out laughing. 'I think you want ante-natal,' she said. 'It's down the corridor, through the double doors, then turn second left and first right. We do X-rays here, not ultrasound. My colleague will show you the way.'

Mr Fronge looked relieved that it was he in the wrong place, not his wife. Steph expected him to turn towards the door and follow Rachel, but the man said, 'While I'm here, can you X-ray my leg? It's been hurting for some time. I hurt it playing football.'

Rachel was taken aback by the request but Steph wasn't fazed at all.

'Have you seen your doctor about your leg?

'No, but as I'm here I might as well have an X-ray. It will save me going to my doctor then having to return here. Then I've a good excuse for turning up late.’

Steph ensured that she didn't see her assistant's face this time. She was sure she was trying not to grin. Rachel spent more time smiling and seeing the funny side than other people, being a naturally cheerful person. She knew if she caught her eye again they would both have to suppress laughter.

'I'm sorry Mr. Fronge, but you need to be referred by a doctor. I'm not allowed to undertake X-rays without a referral form from a doctor.'

'My name isn't Fronge.' He corrected her. 'We're married but she wouldn't take my name. She said she preferred her own. My name's Luke Dinkley-Sidebottom.' He pronounced it Siddy-boe-tham.

A definite small, badly suppressed, giggle exploded from Rachel. Steph jumped in quickly, hoping Mr Sidebottom hadn't heard. She was going to have to have serious words with the student, but really, she couldn't blame her. She was struggling against laughter herself, and could sympathise with the missing wife. She wouldn't have taken that name either.

'I'm sorry Mr. Dinkley-Sidebottom.' Another snort came from Rachel, who Steph thankfully saw, was backing into the imaging room, hopefully taking herself out of earshot. 'I'm not allowed to undertake any X-rays without a referral form.'

'I wouldn't tell,' the man said. ‘You could take the X-ray now and I'll see a doctor next week and bring you the referral form.’

'I’m sorry, but we must have the referral form first. I suggest you see your GP soon as possible, or if your leg's really painful, go to Accident and Emergency downstairs. Now,' she said, steering the man towards the exit, 'your wife will be wondering where you are.' He clearly wasn't happy with her decision but allowed himself to be ushered out.

'Rachel, you can come out now!' she shouted. The girl appeared and started laughing again.

'If that was my name I'd have changed it! Does that happen much?' she asked.

'Do you mean patients getting lost or demanding X-rays without a referral form, or having silly names?' she asked.

‘All three! No, wanting an X-ray on the spur of the moment.’

'Not often, but we do sometimes have people wanting X-rays of weird things, like the man last year who brought in his briefcase. His young son had managed to change the combination when playing with it and the man couldn't get it open.'

'Why did he bring it in? Surely he didn't think an X-ray would show him the combination?'

'Believe it or not, Rachel, he wanted to know if his mobile phone was in there. He couldn't find it and if it was in there he'd stop searching the house and car for it. He was worried that it was somewhere at home where his wife might find it and see the text messages to and from his girlfriend. It was on silent so he couldn’t ring it.’

'What a plonker. Why didn't he just break the briefcase open?' Rachel asked.

'That's what I said. He looked amazed at the idea then asked me for a crowbar! Why on earth would I have a crowbar? It’s not a regular tool when taking images. Anyway, I referred him to the porters, although he shouldn't have been in the hospital at all, but I bet the porters or security had a good laugh.'

Steph peered around the door to see if any more patients had arrived. There was a bell but most patients didn't notice it or the huge laminated sign above it. Others, particularly children, rang it so much you'd think they were entering a campanology competition. Still no genuine patients, she noted. For once, it was a quiet morning. The shift went much more quickly when the waiting room was full. Turning back to Rachel she said, 'I bet since you've been on lots of placements you've proven your aunt right. There are some pretty strange people in the NHS, and that's just the staff!'

Rachel laughed, 'I'd go so far as to say some of the staff are mad!'

'OK, you're right, I can't think of one member of staff who hasn't eventually been infected with the madness that is the NHS. We're pretty sure the superintendent is off her rocker. She has amazing mood swings, and can be quite vindictive.'

Steph looked at the clock on the wall. 'I’m going for a break now. If any patients come then have me paged as we're short-staffed as usual so there's no-one to supervise you. But if you can ask the patients to wait a bit I might have time to eat. I'll be back in half an hour, and then if it's still quiet, a bit later you can go for your break.'

Rachel nodded, then without being asked - which is what made her an excellent student Steph thought - she started cleaning the X-ray equipment, even though it hadn't been used for over an hour.

During her break Steph rang her husband, Stuart, who should be back from collecting the children from school. 'Hi, how's things?' she asked.

'OK, but Jake fell off running along the school wall. I've no idea why he was up there. He's grazed his knees and his trousers have taken a battering.'

'Darling, the reason he was on the wall is because he's a nine-year-old boy. I'm sure you did that sort of thing when you were younger?'

'I never did anything of the sort!' Steph could hear the grin in his voice.

'Knowing your mum, she probably made you walk along the top of walls as soon as you were toddling. Anything else I need to know?'

'Well, Gemma wants to spend her pocket money on a new Barbie doll. I've told her to wait until you come home to discuss it.'

'Thanks very much!' his wife said. 'So, I'm the baddie who tells her that she has enough of the silly things and that she can't have yet another one!'

'But you're better at discipline than me,' Stuart protested. 'And she is only seven.'

'You just want to be Darling Daddy all the time, leaving me to be Moaning Mummy to our children,' she laughed. 'Anyway, I'll be home about six tonight. Anything you want me to pick up on the way home? Any essentials?'

'We're low on wine. Oh, and any chance of some nut chocolate?'

Steph laughed. 'I said essentials,. OK, I'll bring some white wine and your chocolate. The amount of wine we quaff I think we should start making it ourselves. That would also give us something to do together. Anyway, see you later.'

A few minutes later, Rachel looked appreciative of the doughnuts and coffee Steph brought back for her. 'Here, I know what it's like being a student and being hungry most of the time. I can remember that far back. You never seem to have enough money to eat. Have this now then go for a proper break in half an hour. Take an hour. Who's outside?'

'Thanks Steph, you're fantastic,' Rachel said with a mouthful of doughnut. She chewed a couple of times then swallowed. 'You're in time for a knee. Chap been sent by A&E. I need a knee X-ray so that'll be another one off my list.'

Student radiographers studying for the BSc in Diagnostic Imaging had a record book each year on placement and had to, under supervision, undertake a certain number of X-rays of various parts of the body. When the radiography department was busy and more students were on duty, they would barter or argue to do certain X-rays so that they could be signed off as competent in their books by their mentors.

'If I can have this head you can have that foot.'

'But I need another two heads. You only need one.'

'Yes, but you've got all your chests.'

Or it might be, 'You can have this hand.'

'I don't want it;