Calming rambunctious kids, soothing fears: The challenges of working as children’s x-ray tech

My Philly Hospital Job is a short series that brings Inquirer readers inside hospitals to learn more about the day-to-day of health-care workers.

Radiology technologist at Shriners Children’s Philadelphia

X-ray techs, as they are often called for short, are the people in hospitals who operate the machines that take images inside patients’ bodies. Technologists have to complete at least an associate’s degree and pass the certification exam of the American Registry of Radiologic Technologists.

There are more than 4,500 radiology technologists in the Philadelphia metro area, which includes Camden and Wilmington, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Only three metro areas in the nation have more. The average annual pay for technologists in the region is $71,630.

Getting a six-year-old to hold still is no small feat, especially when they are as excited as Ethan. An X-ray at Shriners Children’s Philadelphia is what’s between him and freedom from the cast that has been limiting movement of his finger for the past several weeks.

Michelle Murphy leads the family to a room decorated with snowflake stickers and posters of characters from the beloved Disney movie series Frozen. At the center is a table with a large X-ray machine hovering above. She directs Ethan to a chair and asks him to spread his hand on the table. She slides the machine right above him, and a beam of light shines on his fingers.

“You’re gonna hold super still for me,” she tells him, speaking at his eye level.

Once he is in position, Murphy asks the parents to move behind a wall. Anyone who can avoid the radiation of the machine should. Ethan is protected by a lead blanket.

When Ethan realizes that he is alone in the room, he spins around in the chair in search of his mother. He stays seated, but grips the chair back as he cranes his neck and calls out for her.

Murphy calls in a colleague to operate the machine from the computer behind the wall, puts on a lead apron to protect herself from the radiation, and kneels next to Ethan. She helps him reposition his cast under the beam, and holds his arm to keep the injured finger still.

“You ready? Say cheese!”

“Say cheese!” he exclaims.

Within a few seconds, it is all done. Ethan runs to his mother.

These are the interactions that fill Murphy’s day at the X-ray clinic at the North Broad Street orthopedic specialty hospital.

Her ability to interact with her young patients, and sooth their fears, is as critical as her skills operating the medical equipment. This August morning is relatively quiet, but the job can get hectic with a flood of patients.

The next patient is 11-year-old Vianny who came to get an X-ray of her spine. Murphy walks her to a Star Wars-themed room with a standing X-ray called EOS. Vianny needs to walk up a few steps onto a platform that resembles an airport security scan.

She is quiet, and if she’s nervous, it doesn’t show. Murphy ducks out of the room to the computer that operates the X-ray. She looks at Vianny through a window above her workstation.

“You are going to hear some noises, OK?” she tells the young patient. “Stay really still for me.”

The machine buzzes for about 10 seconds, and then Murphy opens the door.

“All finished.”