Radianna the X-ray Doll

Babies, Babies, Babies. Walking into a hospital carrying a life-size plastic baby doll made me feel slightly conspicuous, but I think it was all worthwhile. We immediately put her to work in the department as a model for proper x-ray positioning. As the students and I went through the steps necessary to produce images such as pediatric chest, abdomen, and foreign body exams, I learned that teaching about the radiography of children involves a lot of “finesse”. You have to “finesse” the child away from the overprotective parent. I do this by introducing myself, asking if that’s “Baby Jane Doe”, then inquire about the injury/illness with an a concerned look. I tell them we’ll just be taking a few x-rays and I’ll bring them right back. Then I immediately outstretch my arms right up to the baby to indicate that now is the time to give him/her up. I reassure them that I already have a helper and that it will only be a few minutes wait. If they don’t give up the baby, insisting right away that they must come in, I consider that a new situation. In that instance I don’t argue, I just stand there for a moment – possibly adding that we have a lot of experience with children and there’s no need to worry. Often they’ll change their mind and relinquish the child. If they still don't give up the baby – I sometimes walk away saying I’ll be right back. If I’m able, I’ll get reinforcements, like a supervisor or a coworker. It’s true that sometimes you can’t avoid bringing a parent in the room. But it’s also true that I have seen parents freak out in the x-ray room. They’re shocked to see any form of restraining immobilization device. Many times, the child will be more upset with the parent there. Lastly, parents often don’t make good helpers, they are unable to hold that leg or arm still, for instance. You can’t forget the goal is make diagnostic quality x-rays, not just to get it done. So, it can be a challenge, but I try to recognize that each situation is different – that hard and fast rules don’t apply except on the technical end of x-ray creation. By the way, if you see me carrying a doll, be sure to say hello to “Radianna”, my newest teaching tool. Special thanks to Eileen for being the volunteer student radiographer in this photo.

Wait Til The Chicks Hatch

I've noticed that technical competence gained early has its own risks. First, a student starts to think that they're already an employee of the clinical site. This can lead to a lot of heartache when they look at their bank account. But seriously, one risk is that they no longer see the value of what they're learning in class. Second, they've locked themselves into the way things are done at just one institution -- one which they may or may not get a job. It's nice to feel loved in a workplace but its better to actually have graduated and passed the registry before you start worrying about that. Third, it takes three to five years (at least!) of working in the field to gain the confidence and poise that you need to handle everything that is thrown at you. The learning continues because a lot can change -- the procedures, the technology and even you.

Hazards Of An Occupation

The following is a work of fiction.

September 10th, 1994

Tom Connors swore under his breath upon seeing the bloody, torn skin on Gordon McCoy’s elbows. The injury occurred as the eighty-eight-year-old McCoy rolled from his side to his stomach repeatedly on the hard x-ray table. As a new x-ray technologist, Connors struggled to limit the patient’s discomfort while taking the final films. Through his mind flashed thoughts of compassion and self-control, but mostly of the steaming anger he felt at the radiologist who just put him in this situation. That six-foot four-inch swaggering and belligerent doctor, the terror of the department, had outdone himself this time. Upon entering the fluoroscopic radiology room, the outpatient had launched a verbal attack at Dr. Jonathan Halpern, “Why have I had to wait so long? This is ridiculous. Where have you been?” Halpern fumbled with excuses, then stormed from the room in exasperation, slamming the door behind him. Knocking on the lead-lined door’s small window, the fuming radiologist motioned for Connors to step into the control hallway. “I refuse to do this person’s upper GI study. Here’s what you’re going to do: lay him down and take drinking films of his esophagus. First a right lateral, then a right oblique, then a prone film. Then roll him on the table a few times to coat his stomach. Have him drink more, then repeat the same projections centered on his stomach. When you’re done, show me the films before you let him go. I’ll be in my office.” Though just out of x-ray school, Connors, at thirty-five, was no kid and knew he needed this job to get back on track. With a wife and their first child on the way, now was not the time to think that his two-year course in Radiologic Technology had been a mistake. What else could he do in this rusting northern city? He couldn’t go back to what he was doing before.

Connors shook the barium sulfate “milkshake” one last time before filling a cup and handing it to the elderly McCoy. The explanation he gave for Halpern’s brusque departure was that the radiologist believed that only a few images were necessary and that Connors could do them. Producing good drinking films without fluoroscopy would mean that Connors would have the feeble McCoy lie down on his side, take a large sip through a straw and hold the barium in his mouth. Connors would then run behind the control panel, call out loudly for the man to swallow, and make the exposure. Knowledge of anatomy, good centering and timing were critical. Concentrating as best he could on the task at hand, his blood pressure at its peak with his anger at Halpern, he completed the study, bandaged McCoy’s elbows and took the completed films to the radiologist for review.

Fifteen minutes later, Connors greeted the next outpatient. “Welcome to All Saints Hospital, Mrs. Blackburn. My name is Tom and I’ll be starting your upper GI series with Dr. Halpern.”