Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Don't Stop Won't Stop
It’s just one of those days to start with, but by 11 am, I was gagging for some sugar.
Kerry, my favourite ODA, was restless and kept flicking the KY jelly from the cap of 16 G needle at me and I was sure Dr.A, the boss for the day, got the message loud and clear that I was running on low fuel, but knowing him, his middle name is penguin- face.
I was dying to do a runner to the next available mumsy midwife on the wards for a rescue cup of tea.
Didn't have breakfast this morning.
Never again would I get the chance to see so many men cry without being kicked in the gonads. First lady on the C-section today is an army officer’s wife. He just flew in from Iraq yesterday for the birth.
Boy, the cadet can cry and learnt very fast that we do stock up on Kleenex. I felt a balloon inflating inside my chest, and a hard lump on my throat seeing him trying to keep his lacrimal glands under control as he watched his firstborn greeted the world. His face turned lobster and by the end of it the Kleenex box was half the original weight. The baby was a boy.
Second lady was tall but the partner was slightly vertically challenged, but definitely no shortage in the tear jerking department. He cried bucket loads as well, but not sure whether it was the OR lights or it was him or possibly me but he did look a bit yellow. The baby was again, a boy, also slightly yellow.
Third lady popped up at lunch time, being wheeled in by two midwives with dresses a size too small.
What do you mean lunchtime already? We anaesthetists are from planet Zindage, we don’t eat. Eating is a waste of time. Oh go on then bring the patient in.
Despite the bombarding blackmail from my gut department, we all knew, when the baby needs to come out, it needs to come out and pain is not something we tolerate anymore in this day and age.
She had a spinal and it was, thankfully swift. 80% is patient’s cooperation, and 20% is the anaesthetist’s chance of missing the dura. I was just grateful that my coordination function was isolated from my comprehension centre at that time of day.
The partner had a deep shocked horror look on his face seeing the little creature which was only 27 week old being put in a plastic bag and tied at the shoulder level. Face covered with a plastic funnel, forced with a green balloon and tubing to breath, looking rather pale.
Being that small, these 27 week olds are not capable of conserving heat and I am sure the plastic thing is currently, the latest randomised controlled trialled, most effective way of serving that purpose. The baby had to go to the special baby care unit and this I am sure would send tears to any honest man who’s impregnated any honest woman. The baby was a boy.
It was 3 o’clock and Kerry was tidying up and she was muttering something about killing Bill, because it was Bill’s turn really to cover maternity today. He must have had a visit to the lady with crystal ball about today’s non-stop-won’t-stop at the maternity. We laughed at how killing Bill would fit the day were having.
We then chatted about recent movies, her upcoming trip to Vietnam in May and whether or not she’s coming to see me and Oli, because I'd be home by then. I complained non-stop about how busy it has been recently while packing my bag. We are not having another Kill Bill day, and we both agreed on that, as we left for lunch. That thought faced demise at the door when Sheila the chief midwife stormed in and incoherently mentioning another baby that needed to come out. Now!!
Say bye bye lunch.
The lady had spinal. The husband was hairy, so hairy his chest could hide a rolled up £10. When he was holding the baby (when it finally arrived at 4 pm) , it was a good move to hold the baby close to his chest for extra insulation. We ran out of Kleenex so the big guy had to use the little guy’s pink hat. Yes, the baby was a boy.
It was a big party, we even played Spice Girls- Zing a Zing Ah, at one point before I got so cranky and turned it off.
Everybody had their party hats, mine was same colour as Kerry’s. Blue.
Men cried. Baby men cried.
Ladies wheeled out with flatter tummies. Smiling.
The Grimsby population has increased by 4, at the very least, by the XY species.
The anaesthetist walked home half a kilo lighter, in acute renal failure with orange urine.
I heard a loud tic-toc-tic-toc. Apa tu? Stuff spell checker. ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Kerry, my favourite ODA, was restless and kept flicking the KY jelly from the cap of 16 G needle at me and I was sure Dr.A, the boss for the day, got the message loud and clear that I was running on low fuel, but knowing him, his middle name is penguin- face.
I was dying to do a runner to the next available mumsy midwife on the wards for a rescue cup of tea.
Didn't have breakfast this morning.
Never again would I get the chance to see so many men cry without being kicked in the gonads. First lady on the C-section today is an army officer’s wife. He just flew in from Iraq yesterday for the birth.
Boy, the cadet can cry and learnt very fast that we do stock up on Kleenex. I felt a balloon inflating inside my chest, and a hard lump on my throat seeing him trying to keep his lacrimal glands under control as he watched his firstborn greeted the world. His face turned lobster and by the end of it the Kleenex box was half the original weight. The baby was a boy.
Second lady was tall but the partner was slightly vertically challenged, but definitely no shortage in the tear jerking department. He cried bucket loads as well, but not sure whether it was the OR lights or it was him or possibly me but he did look a bit yellow. The baby was again, a boy, also slightly yellow.
Third lady popped up at lunch time, being wheeled in by two midwives with dresses a size too small.
What do you mean lunchtime already? We anaesthetists are from planet Zindage, we don’t eat. Eating is a waste of time. Oh go on then bring the patient in.
Despite the bombarding blackmail from my gut department, we all knew, when the baby needs to come out, it needs to come out and pain is not something we tolerate anymore in this day and age.
She had a spinal and it was, thankfully swift. 80% is patient’s cooperation, and 20% is the anaesthetist’s chance of missing the dura. I was just grateful that my coordination function was isolated from my comprehension centre at that time of day.
The partner had a deep shocked horror look on his face seeing the little creature which was only 27 week old being put in a plastic bag and tied at the shoulder level. Face covered with a plastic funnel, forced with a green balloon and tubing to breath, looking rather pale.
Being that small, these 27 week olds are not capable of conserving heat and I am sure the plastic thing is currently, the latest randomised controlled trialled, most effective way of serving that purpose. The baby had to go to the special baby care unit and this I am sure would send tears to any honest man who’s impregnated any honest woman. The baby was a boy.
It was 3 o’clock and Kerry was tidying up and she was muttering something about killing Bill, because it was Bill’s turn really to cover maternity today. He must have had a visit to the lady with crystal ball about today’s non-stop-won’t-stop at the maternity. We laughed at how killing Bill would fit the day were having.
We then chatted about recent movies, her upcoming trip to Vietnam in May and whether or not she’s coming to see me and Oli, because I'd be home by then. I complained non-stop about how busy it has been recently while packing my bag. We are not having another Kill Bill day, and we both agreed on that, as we left for lunch. That thought faced demise at the door when Sheila the chief midwife stormed in and incoherently mentioning another baby that needed to come out. Now!!
Say bye bye lunch.
The lady had spinal. The husband was hairy, so hairy his chest could hide a rolled up £10. When he was holding the baby (when it finally arrived at 4 pm) , it was a good move to hold the baby close to his chest for extra insulation. We ran out of Kleenex so the big guy had to use the little guy’s pink hat. Yes, the baby was a boy.
It was a big party, we even played Spice Girls- Zing a Zing Ah, at one point before I got so cranky and turned it off.
Everybody had their party hats, mine was same colour as Kerry’s. Blue.
Men cried. Baby men cried.
Ladies wheeled out with flatter tummies. Smiling.
The Grimsby population has increased by 4, at the very least, by the XY species.
The anaesthetist walked home half a kilo lighter, in acute renal failure with orange urine.
I heard a loud tic-toc-tic-toc. Apa tu? Stuff spell checker. ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
