Working Stiffs - Matt
Created | Updated Mar 23, 2008
Welcome to 'Working Stiffs', The Post's new series of interviews with h2g2 Researchers, finding out about what they do to earn a crust. To kick things off we spoke to Matt, who works as a pædiatric nurse.
Q: When did you decide you wanted to be a children's nurse? More to the point, why?
A: When? Well that's about oooh, um, uh *mumble* years ago. I was working as an auxiliary in the Emergency Department and felt a little unchallenged by the role. My colleagues pushed me into the jaws of the School of Nursing, and the rest, as they say, is hysterics.
The why is more complex, to be honest. The birth of my daughter had a lot to do with it. The fact that I've always felt a little bit more relaxed around kids than adults, able to talk to them easier. No expectations from kids, you see.
Another major contributing factor was the fact that there really aren't that many male nurses about, let alone in children's nursing, and I always felt that male children needed more than a male doctor as a role model or someone they could go to or talk to when admitted to hospital, a surrogate brother, or to be more blunt, not someone who's going to either laugh at or cause unwanted stirrings... if you catch my drift.
To illustrate my point, I recall time spent in hospital as a teen and being very embarrassed when the young (and quite attractive) nurse looking after me opened the bathroom door while I was showering to make sure I was okay, and caught me in the midst of washing my intimates... ahem. Needless to say, I think we were both a little red-faced.
Hence the importance of there being male nurses for male children (and teens) who might not want a female nurse to talk to about certain issues (one such being sperm donation for children with cancers).
Q: What do you find most challenging about it?
A: The most challenging part of being a pædiatric nurse? I think having to be the point of contact for a child and their family at a time which is stressful and difficult for them, and gaining the trust and confidence in what you do with that child and family is what makes the role a challenging one. That's the crux of it, though, trust. And gaining that from anyone, let alone a child (and their family) who is upset is what makes every day and every patient an exciting experience!
Q: What's the most enjoyable part?
A: The most enjoyable part of my work is the feeling I get when I know I've been involved in making a child well, and having them go home from hospital happy and well having had a positive experience. The buzz you get from a shy thank you from a child (not to mention the box of chocs you sometimes get) is worth all the hard work you put in.
Plus the people I work with are all there for the same thing. Children's nurses are never at work for themselves; there's no selfishness or arrogance or trying to get the better of your colleague. We all do it for the kids, so teamwork is just second nature really. We're all a bit nutty to be honest (in a good way), and because the work is often stressful we certainly unwind in a big way!
Q: Any funny anecdotes that don't break patient confidentiality?
A: , having worked in A&E before my nursing I've loads of stories to tell from there. I might be able to let a few incidents slip through the net...
As far as nursing children goes, well, funny anecdotes aren't really there. Looking after children is a serious business, and although we make it fun for the kids, the health professional hat never comes off. We might laugh and joke about things behind closed doors, but I always put the concerns of the children and their families first — and this means even if something might appear funny to some else (like those stupid TV video clip shows where kids are filmed bouncing off trampolines and the like) I always see the consequences for the child and how their life is affected.
My, that's all a bit serious innit? Let's to back to before I was a registered professional and tell some A&E stories...
Like the time we had to stifle our giggles of the bloke who waddled into the department — 'I accidentally sat on a can of Harpic cleaner while I was cleaning the bathroom. I think it's stuck.' No-one asked him why he was cleaning the bath in the nude... and the x-rays are the stuff of legend now.
And no questions were asked of the local vicar who had to be admitted to the surgical ward after presenting himself to the department with a delicate problem. I think it was called a 'Black Mamba'. And it really shouldn't have been put in that far. You connect the dots there.
And I do recall a young student, 19 or so, very embarrassed, coming to the desk with his mother:
Mother — 'You tell them what you've done! Go on!'
Son — 'I've something stuck in my bum...'
Mother — 'Tell them what it is then! Go on!'
Son — 'um. Mum's porcelain figurine. I...'
Mother — 'That's right! And it better not be damaged! It cost me a fortune!'
Turns out laddo had decided while his mum was off shopping he'd 'enjoy' the rare antiques in the house. It was all fun and games until the lady with the parasol wouldn't come out again...
My, that's a lot of stuff stuck in places stories, maybe I should change the pace?
Nah.
One of the newer SHOs go the shock of his life when investigating a complaint of the bottom in a young lady who'd just returned from Africa on holiday. While peering at what appeared to be a bite on the lady's bottom, something decided to pop out of her bottom and say hi! The scream from the cubicle was incredible! We all rushed in to see him out cold on the floor, the lady in question in tears. It turned out that she had a parasitic worm, and the consultant removed it for her. She made a full recovery, but the young SHO never lived it down...
I should stop there I think. There's probably more, but you can read those stories in a book I'm writing at some point.
Q: Cheers Matt. Thanks for doing this. Hopefully it'll be interesting and useful for the community to read.
And apologies — I hoped to arrange for someone more photogenic to interview you. But Parkie was out when I phoned him!