MRSA in the strangest of places

Isabel made life bearable for poor Mrs Stewart. The woman hadn't been outside the ward in over six weeks. The problem was that her wound would never quite heal. It wasn't any old wound either. It wasn't some minor surgical cut to the abdomen. Mrs Stewart had her left leg amputated from the just below the knee.

One day the wound would seem better, and the yellowish ooze which would occasionally discharge from the stump would slow down, or cease altogether, then suddenly the would open up again and a flood of pus would pour out. She had been to theater twice to get the wound debrided and cleaned out.

"Where's my Isabel? " Mrs Stewart would ask when anyone but Isabel answered her call bell "I need her now." Mrs Stewart's tone of voice spoke of someone who was used to authority, someone used to giving orders to servants. We were not offended. We would have been offended if Mrs Stewart meant to be rude and demanding, but making demands and giving orders was all she knew. We even felt pity for the poor woman, for it must be such a fall from grace to be in a public hospital.

Mrs Stewart was a high society woman from the 1960's. She would regale Isabel with stories about lords and ladies, wealth and debauchery. Mrs Stewart also only spoke to Isabel in her favorite language, the romance language of the French. "She's busy right now" I replied, "Is there something I can do for you?" I replied to Mrs Stewart, knowing full well that she would wait for Isabel only. "No, I don't think so" she paused and looked at me thoughtfully, "No I definitely need my Isabel. Only Isabel can help. I need to speak to her woman to woman." I left her room to inform Isabel that her unique services were required.

"What does she want?" Isabel asked when I told her that only she can solve Mrs Stewart's problem. "She wouldn't say, only it's a 'woman to woman' thing" I added. Isabel rolled her eyes "You've got to be kidding" she said. I found myself smiling, my mind going into overdrive wondering what crazy idea Mrs Stewart had come up with now. Isabel punched me on the arm. "Don't laugh, it's not funny. She asks the most embarrassing questions" Isabel continued, "Just the other day she asked me what position I thought would be the safest position to have six with only one leg." Isabel had asked all the nursing staff what they thought best, and had received some rather descriptive answers. "Just go in there and find out. I'll help any way I can" I promised.

With a nervous, backward glance, Isabel entered Mrs Stewart's room. Three minutes later I found a very flustered Isabel in the treatment room. "You won't believe what she asked me" Isabel said to me. I had never seen her quite so red faced, it must have been good. "Is it worse than the sex question" I asked. She nodded her head "Much worse." My curiosity was piqued. "Out with it then. What's so shocking?" I ordered. Isabel took a moment to compose herself. "She's worried that she has MRSA" Isabel began. MRSA is one of the hospital superbugs that are resistant to antibiotics. "We know she has MRSA" I interrupted. Isabel motioned for me to be quiet. "She's worried that it may have spread. She asked me to have a look."

"Have a look?"I exclaimed. "Look where?" Isabel took a deep breath, "She thinks she MRSA on her clitoris. She asked me to take a look." My mouth dropped and I stood there stunned speechless. So caught of guard was I that I wasn't even laughing. After a considerable pause I asked the next logical question "Well did you?" I asked. Isabel nodded her head "What else could I do? She could have it there, so I had to look."

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Dirty old place called Hospital

MRSA. That stands for drug resistant bacteria, the type that keeps on killing people again and again in our hospitals. Governments in all the industrialised world are spending countless millions trying to combat this problem, but are not having much success. Why are they having no luck? Let me tell you the story of ward thirteen, the 35 bed surgical ward I've spent the last few weeks in.

There's vomit on the floor. It's not unusual, it does happen. I'm used to cleaning up the occasional bit of vomit, but the cleaner is here with me. She just happened to be in the room when I noticed it. "Can you please clean it up?" I asked the woman. She shook her head "It's against the rules" she answered.

It seems rather strange to me, a cleaner with a mop, not cleaning up the vomit on the floor. I asked the silly question of "Why not?" "It's a body product, and we aren't allowed to touch that. We don't have the training." I don't actually have any training either, I must have missed the lesson in nursing school about how to clean up vomit, but I have to do something.

I asked her to give me her mop. "It's against the rules" she replied again, to which I asked again, "Why?" "You're not trained to use my equipment. If you injure yourself or anyone else I could lose my job." As yet I've never managed to harm anyone with a mop, although I was beginning to have some serious thoughts of how it could actually be done.

Next step is to go to the cleaning cupboard and get a mop and soap-like stuff. I should have guessed, the cupboard is locked. "You can't go in there" I was beginning to think the cleaning lady was stalking me. As it turns out the ward doesn't own any cleaning equipment. The equipment belongs to the cleaning company that is hired to clean our hospital. The cleaning company is terrified of being sued, so strictly enforces rules about body products and use of it's tools.

The result is that I clean up shit and all sorts of stuff with a towel which is pushed around by the sole of my shoe. Sometimes I put on gloves and get down on my hands and knees to clean crap up. It's impossible to keep my uniform clean, so I take it home and try to get it cleaned and dried for the next day as my other uniform is still in the washing machine, soaking wet. I never like taking my uniform home as I'm not really keen on spreading hospital germs to my wife and children, but hospitals no longer do staff laundry as it saves them quite a bit of money. In fact it's another outside agency that now does the laundry, so I guess they really need to save some money somehow. It would be so much easier if things were done the old way, with the hospital taking care of its own business, taking pride in doing a job properly, because none of the outside service people that I've seen seem to give a damn.

I wonder what new plans the government will come up with to combat hospital infection???

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