Hospital-ed

Death, or Birth

 This week I've been in the hospital.  It's fine.  In many ways I've gotten a lot of other things done because it's not so busy as seeing clinic patients all the time.  A few couplets to round on here and there, someone to induce, someone else to rule-out preterm labor in.  There are some old ACOG green journals in the call room which I've been perusing, and reading "journal watch" online for the first time.  Mostly though I've tried to catch up on life things like responsible people do.  Like figuring out if I have car insurance anymore.  And oops, I don't.  Like getting my eyes checked.  And then realizing I've lost my sunglasses, and having to drive home in a near-total white-out of blazing sun.

The other night I delivered a baby without breaking the membranes.  It was a really nice, induced, but otherwise natural birth.  I didn't break the bed down.  The woman did beautifully.  The nurse working with me that night commented to the student nurse about what a nice "veiled" birth it was.  We got to talking afterward about how long she'd worked here (19 years), and I told her she'd have to help me find my way around.  She told me she initially was in pharmacy school, but everyone she talked to in that field felt like they were in some sort of assembly line/factory.  She got out because she wanted more patient interaction.  First she was a tech at the hospital, then she went to nursing school.  And she loved it.  Now she also has a farm near the hospital with 60 chickens, and she gave me some eggs for my kids.  I told her I was looking forward to working with her again.

This morning as I was sitting at the triage station I learned that she had died, unexpectedly, that morning.  The nurses were all in shock.  I know it's not my tragedy, and I barely knew her.  But it really reminded me of the frailty of life.  It could be any one of us.  We're no more protected because we're in the business of bringing new life into the world. Death, like life, is random.  And devastating.  It never gets less so. 

A few minutes after I heard the news, there was a "CODE BLUE, PEDIATRICS" page.  I grabbed the closest reference book I could find and ran toward the door, hoping against hope it wasn't my patient, the one we were rehydrating for gastroenteritis.  "Shit," I said, as I thought about gastroenteritis, and codes.  When I got to the ward, the nurses said "all clear."  It wasn't my patient, and everything was fine anyway.  I wobbled back to the call room and sat down.  I googled all the PALS courses in the area.  Really need to take one of those.  Probably also ATLS in case anyone falls down in the hallway.  Shit.  I forgot I wasn't actually prepared for every possible contingency.  Maybe if I just know enough algorithms, it'll all be okay.

(But can you ever really be prepared for death, whether it's yours or someone else's?  Or life? Or birth?)