The Bench by Dr. Mitzi Aportadera

This article was written by my best friend, Dr. Mitzi Aportadera in her column in ADZUNLIMITED.
VITAL SIGNS

The Bench

I was in my second year of medical school when I saw the lowly decrepit bench at the nurses’ station. Its wooden surface pockmarked and darkened with age. I could hardly muster the nerve to sit on it for fear of the microorganisms and whatever fauna it housed in its cracks. It was an ecosystem by itself. This was my first day of clinical exposure and armed with my new-found knowledge of microbiology and parasitology; I feared the possibility of hospital-acquired infections.
In my third year; this lowly and humble bench and I met again. We wore white skirts in those days and the nurses warned us to watch were we sat lest we fall prey to the numerous blood-sucking insects we would find lurking in old furniture. (No wonder the nurses preferred trousers to skirts). I ran the risk of varicose veins from standing with all the endurance my feet and legs could muster. I couldn’t stand the thought of being a of these insect’s buffet for fear of any blood borne parasites they could transfer into me.
In my last year of medical school; we took 36 hour shifts at the hospital. The rite of passage into entering the world of the physician was filled with obstacles- like tons of scut work; ward calls and referrals; charts to fill out; blood extractions to be made. I would be so exhausted from running around the hospital trying to get all the scut work done. Scut work , in a layman’s definition, meant all the menial tasks that we medical students do. It comprised following up all laboratory results; inserting iv fluids; measuring patients’ input and output; taking a patient’s vital signs and inserting a variety of tubes into the different orifices of the human anatomy. By midday; I was worn out. And forgetting my morbid fear of the little brown bench; I plopped down on it and took my break. In less than hour; I became brunch for the tiny creatures that emerged from its fissures. I looked down on my legs and I found the evidence to prove it. Notwithstanding the itching from their tiny bite marks; I marveled at how efficient they were at blood extraction. They were better at it than I was.
My foray into residency; brought me face to face with sleepless nights. I would be awake for 48 hours with more than 50 patients under my care for my shift in the wards. I had to do surgeries and intensive monitoring of the critically ill. Life was certainly not the least bit easy. I learned to catnap at every chance I got. I caught a few winks while waiting in line at the x-ray department with my patient or in the lull of the early morning hours when most patients were asleep. Sleep was indeed a luxury and I would have paid a king’s ransom to have the comforts of my bed; a clean blanket with the lights turned off. I longed for a leisurely hot shower without the sound of my beeper calling my attention to some task that needed to be done.
It was on one of these so-called “toxic” nights that brought me closer to my friend- the little brown bench. Toxic is hospital slang for shifts wherein work loads are tremendously heavy and when there are a lot of patients to take care of. I had just finished assisting three (3) major surgeries early that evening and I was groping my way up the stairs to check on the wards. Dragging my exhausted feet along the hallway; I looked and assessed each referral brought to my attention by the nurse on duty. It looked like there was no end in sight. To compound to my woes; I had to study for a surgical conference the very next morning.
So when the ward quieted down; I managed some “alone” time at three in the morning. I grabbed my 5 inch thick Schwartz’s Textbook of Surgery and leafed through its pages. Nothing was registering in my tired brain. All the words just swam around before my eyes and I simply couldn’t make sense of any of it. It was at that moment; when the room spun around in circles, that I saw the little brown bench. It looked as inviting as an eiderdown mattress. I could not resist it calling to me to lie down and catch a few minutes of luxurious sleep. I almost succumb to the temptation; when I remembered that I would be fodder for the little creatures that would probably be wanting for a midnight snack. Yet , fatigue got the best of me. I gave in. But not before dousing its surfaces with alcohol. Using my book as a pillow (I subtly hoped for the impossible- that knowledge would diffuse into my brain); I plopped right on the little brown bench. And for that night; the little brown bench was my little piece of heaven, my five-star hotel accommodation. And I wouldn’t have traded that little bench for all the goose-feather mattresses in the world.