Paulie and the Code Brown

 

I was in Poplar Bluff, Missouri for some medical tests.  Specifically I had to have two CT scans and an echocardiogram.  It was to be a long day of testing for me and I had to do it after working all night.  For some reason the state of Missouri won’t let us take a sick day for a doctor’s appointment if we work nights.  So I worked the whole night before, was there for the tests most of the day, and had to work the whole night after…with no sleep.  I was already tired due to being up past my bedtime and not in a particularly good mood.

Then I met Paulie, and he changed my attitude toward my day, my job, and life in general…forever.

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Paulie is not his real name, and Jack’s real name is something else too.  I told the men I was going to write about them, but I don’t think they took me seriously.  Thus I have chosen not to use their real names so they won’t feel that I am holding them up to ridicule.

There’s also that pesky fear of a lawsuit.

Yeah, mostly that.

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Jack retrieved me from the waiting area where I had been, well, waiting for nearly an hour since the time my appointment was actually scheduled and led me back to the room where I would be scanned.  As we entered the space where the CT machine sat, like some bloated, white, powdered donut in the middle of the room, I looked into the control booth next to it.  A young lady bustled about in her lab coat and an even younger man looked up and smiled affably as I passed.

The pleasant young man, I would soon find out, was Paulie.

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Jack was the technician responsible for working directly with me. He kept up a cheery banter while informing me of what he was doing and what was required of me.  I was to resist movement at designated times to keep from blurring the images, etc, etc, etc.  Jack apologized for the “little poke” as he slid a needle into a vein of my right arm.  He said that I might feel some warmth when he injected the iodinated contrasting material and, (cue the portent of doom music) I might experience a distinct feeling that I was going to urinate.  He assured me that I had nothing to worry about, I probably wouldn’t wet myself.

Probably.

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With the warning echoing in my brain, Jack announced that the testing would begin.  For a few seconds I thought the young man must have been kidding me, then I felt a distinct warmth behind my ears, followed closely by the feeling almost of warm liquid down below.  But it didn’t feel like I was going to wet myself.  Instead it was a little farther back than that.  It was more like someone had directed a gentle flow of warm air at my backside.

Uh, yeah, there.

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About that time, Jack returned and said merrily, “All done.  How do you feel?”

I laughingly told the young man about the interesting sensation in my backside and he smiled, asking, “Did we have a code brown?”

I knew what he meant and asked, “Does that happen?”

“Sometimes,” he answered.  “Not often.  Usually with older patients.”

Which meant, yes, it does happen.

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He went on to explain that code browns usually happen to patients who have concerns with their bowels and that they have to drink a contrasting material that can, uh, excite the innards.  Things can get, shall we say, explosive.

Yeah, explosive.

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The other young man was up out of his chair and standing at the door.  Still smiling pleasantly, he asked, “Did I hear, ‘code brown’?”

Jack assured him there was no code brown and the man went back to his post, still smiling.

I looked askance and Jack explained, “That’s Paulie.  It’s his job to clean up when there’s a code brown.  He helps the patient clean up too.”

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I thought for a moment and realized my life had been changed forever.  From that point on, whenever I start feeling down about my job and its responsibilities, I’ll remember Paulie, the smiling young man whose job it is to clean up after “explosive” code browns.

Here’s to you, Paulie.

 

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