How To Save A Life

I saved a life today. I am still kinda shaky from all the adrenaline.

First, some back ground so you know how out of the ordinary this is:

My job at the hospital is to take care of the hearing health needs of inpatients. Although I see a few adults a month, the majority of my patients are infants. The majority of the tests I do are the state-mandated hearing screenings on newborns. I work with babies in the intensive care nursery (ICN) the most.

Now, babies in the ICN can be pretty sick. Some are on the verge of death when they are admitted. But by the time I see them, they are about to go home. They are eating well and gaining weight. And although they may still be hooked up to monitors (which trigger a pager worn by a nurse when they have an "episode"), they are not having any issues with decreased breathing or heart rate.

The point I am trying to make here is that my job is not one that is emergent. The patient is not going to die if I don't see them. The patients are usually healthy enough to be heading home fairly soon after I seen them. So when there is excitement in an area where I am, I usually get as far out of the way as possible.

So this morning, I did a hearing screen on a baby who was doing so well that she was not on a monitor. I finished the screening and she did well. While doing the charting, I noticed I was out of the hand-outs I usually leave for the parents describing the test and the results. I figured she didn't really need one and went off to test another baby in another part of the ICN.

When I was finished with that baby, her mom showed up and I decided to print out the form for her. I had to go back to the part of the ICN where the first baby was to pick up the printed forms. I figured since I was already there, I would drop one off in the first baby's room.

Then the excitement started. I walked over to her crib and see her silently flailing her arms while turning a nice shade of purple. Now most babies this age choke on their spit-up at some point but once they are rolled on their side, the "stuff" pours out and they sputter and cough and are generally okay. So I rolled her on to her side but nothing came out and she still wasn't making any noise. So I picked her up and draped her over one hand (yes, she was small enough to hold with one hand) while hitting her back with the other. She still wasn't making any noise so I shouted out for help while continuing to slap her back. She still wasn't making any noise and the purple color was getting deeper so I shouted again so the nurses could figure out which room I was in. Just as the 5 or 6 nurses, the neonatologist, and the respiratory therapist got to us, she made a little cough sound. I asked the nurse in front of me to take her and I backed up against the wall furthest from her crib. Meanwhile, the nurses suctioned out her mouth and she started to cry. At this point the shock wore off and I started to hyper-ventilate and cry.

Once she was crying, the doctor smiled at me and jokingly asked if they needed to resusutate me... one nurse said to the baby, "Let's get you back on a monitor". GEEE, YOU THINK?!?!?!

The whole incident, from the time I saw her struggling to the time I handed her off to the nurse, could not have lasted more the 45-60 seconds but it felt like an eternity. It seemed to take forever for the nurses to find us and forever for the nurse to take her out of my hands.

I had never seen a baby that color before. I don't ever want to again. I don't remember consciously making the decision to do any of the things I did... I guess instinct (read "God") just took over. But as soon as there was someone there who knew what to do, I panicked and handed her off.

This is why I am not a nurse.