Admitting when you’re wrong/when you’ve been an ass.

So, this morning I walked into theatre. Picture a fresh face of happiness and joy finished off with a peppy smile that screams ‘I have been in the NHS for only a year and my soul is yet to be entirely broken!’ This notion is reinforced by the presence of bright yellow platform crocs and an array of pins attached to my ever-revolving lanyard; my entrance is imagined to be accompanied by a soundtrack of distant songbirds with a perfectly unburnt oat caramel latte acting as my aura. Mid sashay-ing into the theatre to turn on my machine for the wonderfully wonderful day I was about to have, I found myself being shouted at in front of the entire theatre staff. My bubble of bliss was harshly burst, OBLITERATED even, before my perfectly moisturised ET fingers could reach the on switch. My attacker abruptly declared how I should not have walked in whilst the patient was awake in the operating room, and I was in turn provided with an aggressively rude speech on respect, dignity, and confidentiality.

My first thoughts were that I wanted to crawl into a ball and rock back and forth in the x-ray cupboard (a position I adopted around once a month for therapeutic purposes). My second pit stop was, what an A-Grade Bitch, with a capital Buh followed by an eventful five minutes of calling the happiness invader every name under the sun, in my own brain of course. In-between the fast-pace rotation of intense 18+ curses, my brain began to conjure counter arguments, attempting to force the rage of ruby back into its cage and regain composure. Once recovered from my irrational level of internal rage, I found myself apologising to my brief arch nemesis. To my surprise, my mild level of grovelling was interrupted with a rebuttal apology, which in all honesty truly threw me off. The softening she-beast explained how the patient had felt uncomfortable with her body and that being in a gown emphasized those feelings. She continued to confess spending the entire morning having staff walk in and out of the area without acknowledging the patients right to privacy nor the fact it was a clinical area and should be treated like one.

Ok, I must admit, it was then I really felt like a dick because ultimately, she was right. Not in the way she spoke to me, nor through her tone of voice and especially not the fact it was done in front of a multitude of people, but the foundation was strong. I had waltzed in without considering the mental state of the patient, entirely forgetting that surgery is not just an everyday thing for every human being despite being embedded so frequently into most of mine and my colleagues working day lives. It turned out, the force to be reckoned with had been in a situation I could bet a limb (only a little one, thinking purely the second to last toe, nothing major) we have all been in, where something has bugged us so damn hard that we experience a little volcanic eruption, whether that be experienced internally or in the form of an attack on a random redhead with the coolest work shoes known to man. And at that point, whoever happens to be in the firing line just happens to be in it.

Ultimately, the temporary she-demon had worked in the industry for what turned out to be over thirty years and still had the energy and desire to fight for the care the patient deserved. Now that was a person who cared about people, and in turn I found myself instantly filled with respect for the human being I was just intensely slating in secret. Throughout my time here I have learnt, involuntarily, that it is uncommon for an outburst to not have a solid footing, and that is not to say you can speak to people in a manner you wouldn’t wish to be spoken to yourself, but that we must all allow each other to be heard and respect each other enough to attempt effective communication.

Upon reflection, I whole heartedly 75% apologise for my internal reaction and understand the motivation behind my aggressor’s attack and couldn’t be more thankful we still have people that truly care after being in practice for so many years… but if she does it again, I’m putting her phone number somewhere unpleasant on the internet.