Jumbles

This baby was born before arriving to the hospital. He just couldn't wait to see the world, so his poor father had to catch him in the car. No cord clamp? Just improvise...


This baby has been in our neonatal intensive care unit since he was born. He was only 750grams at birth. Now, about 10 months later, he's a whooping 5kgs. One of the staff nurses gave her old cot to this baby who had obviously outgrown the usual incubator and cot. He's now home, happily after 10 months in the hospital. But he did enjoy following the morning rounds, and his baths in the room sink.

After everyone has played with him, cooed him, carried him, bounced him on their knees, tickle him, played peek-a-boo, we put him back in his cot, and since he cannot crawl yet, or was attempting to do so, he gave in to exhaustion and slept in this position. I caught this cause I was looking after him at that time..

When babies cry, you pick them up. However these little smart people like being carried because we are like live warmers to them. Hence the cuddling up and sleeping after being carried..

This one liked the smell of me, I'm sure.

There are some things that I will miss in neonatal and there are some things which I won't miss. 8 short weeks have just flown by, and are about to end.

I'm beginning to wonder if it was meant to be this way: not having a day off for the last 8 weeks, working till 12a.m and beyond and coming back again at 7a.m the next day to continue working till 5p.m, surrounded by a chorus of wails and cries, with the smell of milk wafting through the filtered conditioned air...

I have learned a lot from the babies that I've had the privilege to hold, examine and talk to (yes, talking to them helps them grow), the staff who are so ever patient in teaching me how to set a branula on a new born, and helping me plaster it after that to the squirming, wailing, protesting infant.. It's been an amazing 8 weeks of toiling and sleepless nights, with me fighting to remain conscious after no sleep for more than 24 hours after on calls, then collapsing in front of the television or computer when I get home.

I don't think I'd like to go through the on calls again although there was almost always this adrenaline rush in myself when I hear my pager beep, and I answer it, only to hear a frantic nurse or house officer telling me that there is some sort of emergency involving a new born and I'm needed to standby in two places at a time, or the wobbliness in my legs as I fight exhaustion and half-run and half-sprint down the stairs to race across the dimly lit car park in the wee hours of the morning to the low risk centre to attend to a baby who is "flat" at birth..

I won't exactly miss my moments of fear when the baby does not respond to my tactile stimulation, does not cry when I rub it's back and flick it's soles, or when it turns blue in the face after birth. The agony indeed..

But the experience has taught me to value life more because it's what you do in that few precious moments that will make the difference for the baby's outcome. When I feel like grumbling about my lack of sleep, exhaustion, my frozen leaves, and the unfairness of the whole situation, I remind myself that these babies have no one to look out for them as soon as they leave the protection of their mother's womb.

And when they are stable, sleeping quietly in their warm bungalows@incubators, not knowing what life is going to be like ahead of them, and when they smile in their sleep, I cannot help but feel awed at the gift of life that God has given us. Constantly I remember this verse from the bible:

¹³ For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

Psalm 139:13-14

I do miss not being able to talk to my patients though. But I think sometimes, it's better that way somehow as my patients now can't complain much, but then again, they are more demanding than adult patients because we have to attend to them every day or else suffer the consequences of experiencing firsthand the maximum decibels their vocal cords are capable of, which will usually set off the rest of the members of the orchestra...hence the 2-3 hours feeding around the clock.

I'll be starting general paeds in the coming week. We are still lack of house officers, but our job requirements have only been added on to as we now have to take care of the isolation wards as well as do shifts in the accident and emergency department once a week. I've been told that there are now about 16-20 admissions per day in paeds, which is somewhat of a big surge, thanks to the flu bug.

Pile that on with the fact that my patients are now bigger, can speak, struggle more, and SPIT at you while you're attempting to take their blood, and I have a feeling that the next 8 weeks ahead of me is going to be a really interesting experience.

Now where are those dumbells of mine? I need to work out my arm muscles a bit more if I'm going to wrestle these kids to the ground to stick a needle in them.. Oh, and I'll need masks to put on them too, so that when they spit, I won't be in the line of fire or rather, viruses..