Win Some, Lose Some.
I'm already bored. ER was cool, compared to this. Well, ER is cool compared to everything. When people think about becoming doctors they have no idea how much thought they have to put into it. I'm not talking about the training or the education; that goes without saying.
In our school we've got two years to get through five mandatory rotations: Surgery, internal medicine, psychiatric, pediatrics and ob/gyn. You can add 'elective' rotations. Things like: ER, orthopedics, neurology, family medicine, dermatology. There are more, but you get the idea.
I still have surgery, psych and pedes to go. I've been doing filler. There are drawbacks to being very young and in Med School. I've been avoiding pedes because it's such a cliché. I mean, a kid, dealing with other kids. I'm supposed to relate to them and stuff like that. Not so much.
Think about it, I don't have that much in common with kids. Sure, I have a few friends, but Jenna's my 'keep me connected' friend. We have an agreement; she doesn't ask me to do her homework, I don't try to discuss French literature with her. It works for us. Our topics are the typical things you'd expect. Lip gloss, music, movies and boys. We rarely get philosophical and when we do, we change the subject quickly.
So here I am in ob/gyn, watching babies being born. Actually, I've delivered a few. And aside from the miracle of birth, yadda, yadda, yadda, I don't have a lot to say on the subject.
Most of the mothers vacillate on whether or not they want an epidural, you know, the shot in the spine that helps with the pain. Are they stupid? The pain is unreal. I want to go on record. Say what you want about 'natural childbirth' I doubt very seriously that a man would take you up on a 'natural appendectomy' if he were given a choice. Even just one-hundred years ago the main cause of death in young women was childbirth, that's natural. My opinion? Take the drugs.
So these ladies come in with their husbands, or boyfriends, or life-partners. They go through labor, which is no picnic. It's really long and really boring. They try the breathing; they get the back rubs and in general suffer for hours. Then you get the birth, which is gooier and messier than you can imagine. Don't even get me started with episiotomies. What do they get when it's all over? A screaming, poop machine.
I hope my parents aren't disappointed, but there's NO WAY I'm ever having kids. It's disgusting.
I'm sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Steamboat. Actually their name is Stephenson, but she's making such an issue of her breathing I can't help but think of her as a Steamboat. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. She's huffing away. As soon as she pops out her little ankle-biter I can take off and go home. I have a bath to take and my shows on Tivo to watch.
The resident, Dr. Collier is monitoring her and he keeps making faces. Personally, I think Collier is a perv. He loves to name the trim on the uh…trim that he sees. He tones it down around me. Either because I'm female, or I'm a kid. I don't really care; I just don't want to hear about Brazil, landing strips, mohawks or afros. Yikes.
Normally he's all smarmy with the couples, assuring them that they're doing fine, that everything is progressing. In this case though, they weren't and it wasn't. I checked the fetal monitor and it seemed like their baby was struggling. Collier had paged their regular GYN, but she was on vacation and her back-up was in the process of delivering triplets.
One thing that I've learned is that you never, ever, try to tell a resident anything. They have authority issues. I looked at the RN and he looked at me. We agreed. This needed to be a cesarean, in the next five minutes.
Collier decided to call it himself. "Mrs. Stephenson, I think we need to do a cesarean."
"Is everything all right?" She asked. Her husband squeezed her hand.
He smiled reassuringly. "It looks like your son is having some problems and you're only four centimeters dilated."
Her husband looked at her and tried to calm her down, "Honey, you've been in labor for over twenty-four hours. I think we need to do this."
She started crying. Always a bad situation. I called the anesthesiologist so we could get her started. The RN confirmed the operating room and we started rolling down the hall. That's when the monitors went crazy. Buzzing, beeping, it looked like the baby's heart had stopped.
I might not like kids, but that doesn't mean I want bad things happening to them. We all ran towards the suite. The surgeon was scrubbing, but he might need to cut it short.
The next few minutes were kind of like on television, except there was blood and instruments falling on the floor and all kinds of chaos. This lady wasn't even a high risk pregnancy.
In the end, the baby was stillborn. That's a major bummer. It's beyond a bummer, but I'm working on distancing myself from my patients, so I don't want to dwell on it. Luckily I could slink out; Collier had to actually speak to the father. I didn't want to be anywhere near that conversation.
I walked down to Dad's office. It was only six, so I expected him to still be there. I found him reading up on something from the CDC. "Hey, ready to go?" He asked me, tucking the magazine into his computer bag.
"More than ready. Don't these hours violate child labor laws?" I sank into his chair while he gathered his stuff.
"Technically, you're not a child," He reminded me.
"I feel very childlike today. Bad things happened. I want my teddy." I did actually. That's what sucks about being a genius. You're expected to have emotions at the same level as your IQ. It doesn't work that way.
"I'll tell you what. I'll cook you and Mom a nice, dinner. And then after you have your bath and brush your teeth, I'll tuck you in and read you a story. Would you like that?" He paused to turn out the light
"Daddy." I whined, but it sounded extremely appealing.
It was close to seven-thirty by the time we ate. I moved the food around on my plate. I tried to eat, but nothing tasted good. I kept thinking about that poor family. How did it feel to be in a room with a lady who did have a baby? That would suck. I hoped that they put her in a private room.
Mom's eyes were on me. It seemed like she was waiting for me to say something. "What?"
"I asked how your day was. I'm guessing by your expression that it wasn't so good. Either that, or you suddenly don't like meatloaf." She smiled wryly.
My not liking meatloaf was ridiculous. It was my favorite. Especially Dad's meatloaf. "No." I put a piece in my mouth and forced myself to chew. "Delicious."
"Want to talk about it?" Mom patted my hand.
I took a big sip of water. "Nothing. A lady came in today and she had problems and the baby died." Mom looked at Dad. This wasn't the first time that I had been around someone who died. It happens a lot in a hospital. During my two months in ER we lost a lot of people. I'm okay with it, up to a point. "I guess it was more sad than usual because he never even had a chance to be born. And his poor mom, she went all the way through pregnancy, and labor and then, nothing. That's got to be the worst part." I put my fork on my plate.
"It is sad." Mom commiserated. "But it does happen. It's no one's fault."
"I know. But you wonder why God would let someone get so close like that and then take it away." That always bothered me. Death I understood, but not suffering. Maybe that's why I was avoiding pedes; who wants to see kids suffer?
"You don't have to accept it." Dad said. "You can fight to be better. Doctors who accept death and suffering as inevitable are bad doctors."
Dad's always been a bit strident about healing. But he's the best, so I guess he can be uncompromising.
"I'm going to soak for a while." I said, getting up. I felt all beat up.
"I'll check in on you later." Dad said.
I filled the tub with hot water and blue bath oil. It smelled good and felt even better. This definitely wasn't something that I could talk about with Jenna. She's a great friend, but she's miles away from stuff like this. I stayed in there until the water cooled.
I got into my ugliest, comfiest set of jammies. When I got into my room Dad was there, sitting on the edge of the bed with Curious George. The one where he goes to the hospital. "Remember how much you loved this one?" He said, holding up the book.
"You are so stupid." I said.
"I'm known for my stupidity." He stood up so I could get under the covers. Then he made a big show of tucking everything around me. "Get your arms out, or else you'll bet tucked in tight as a mummy."
I loosened my arms and sunk into the bed. It felt great, all the tension and sadness melted out of my body. "Thanks Dad."
He sat down and opened up the book, "This is George. He lived with his friend, the man with the yellow hat."
He read the whole book to me and turned out the light. Truthfully, it was exactly what I needed. He kissed my forehead. "I'll send your mom in."
I settled myself in the bed and wiggled my toes. He was always too tight on the toes.
"You really going to sleep so early?" She asked. There was still a streak of light peeking through my curtains.
"I've been up since five. Besides, early day again tomorrow. More babies." I yawned, I really was tired.
"I want to make sure that you don't dwell."
"I won't. Nothing to dwell on. But one of these days, I'm going to make the wrong call and something bad will happen. Like with Dad and his leg. That's going to be hard to live with." I closed my eyes.
"True. I think we've all made mistakes. Even your father. What am I saying? Especially your father. Make your peace with it and keep your insurance payments up to date." She kissed my cheek and put her cool hand on it. "You're doing fine."
"Thanks, Dean." I rolled over as she closed my door.