a night to remember
This morning I dragged myself into work, dead tired from working an 18 hour shift on Sunday. Usually Sunday call is only from 6 am to 4 pm, but I worked 6 to midnight on labor and delivery (a busy, non-stop service) to cover D, one of my fellow residents, while he went to his sister's wedding. He came in at midnight to finish his shift, which ends at 8 am. I got up this morning at 5 am to round on my patients and work a full day as usual.
When I came in today an intern who I like and trust informed me that I was being bad-mouthed by a chief resident for helping my classmate. According to that chief, I should have worked 36 hours straight instead of going home at midnight when my classmate came back to finish his shift. She thought it was a bad idea to split the shift between two people. Something about continuity of care.
Never mind that 1) the idea to split the shift was D's and was approved by his chief resident on the service; 2) when D approached another classmate to help him that person flat out refused so I was his last hope, 3) with the new residecy work hour regulations a 36 hour shift is illegal, and 4) if I hadn't been kind enough to give up my freedom on a Sunday evening D would have been watching his sister's wedding on video. But somehow, in the twisted minds that I work with, my generous gesture is evidence of my laziness and lack of dedication.
All I can say is that it's a good thing I know Jesus.
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Last night, during my shift from hell, a Jamaican couple came in for delivery. The woman was 40 years old but had refused genetic testing for fetal anomalies. She did agree to an ultrasound during the pregnancy which suggested the baby had down syndrome. The couple refused further testing. The patient's husband, mother and sister were all gathered to welcome the newest family member. Their demeanor was pleasant and serene.
I was called into the room when the birth was imminent. As I was gowning myself, I was startled by the hands of the baby's grandmother tying my surgical gown at my back. I thanked her and she smiled at me. As the nurses rushed about the room to prepare for delivery, the words "downs", "meconium" and "pediatrician" swirled about, but the family seemed completely unfazed. The woman gave birth to an adorable baby girl with apgars of 9 and 9, a normal nasal bone (which was supposedly absent on ultrasound) and no obvious signs of downs. After examining her the pediatricians declared that she would be going to the regular newborn nursery (as opposed to special care) but would need further testing.
All the while, the family quietly celebrated. The father was beaming. The aunt dabbed tears from her eyes. They politely thanked everyone for their help.
When we left the room the nurse whirled on me in disgust. "What just happened in there? Don't they know that baby has downs? Why are we supporting their denial?"
The Indian Ob/Gyn attending turned to me and said, "well, the baby may or may not have downs, but now we know why it looked like the nasal bone was absent on ultrasound. Did you see the father's nose? He looks like a chimpanzee! When you look at him you can see how we evolved from apes!"
And while the doctor and nurses gossiped and speculated about what they had witnessed, a father, mother, aunt and grandmother who didn't give a damn about any of them celebrated the birth of a baby girl. Their love had made doctors, nurses, triple screens, amniocentesis and even the possibility of down syndrome completely irrelevant.
The beauty in those moments is what helps me to endure.
When I came in today an intern who I like and trust informed me that I was being bad-mouthed by a chief resident for helping my classmate. According to that chief, I should have worked 36 hours straight instead of going home at midnight when my classmate came back to finish his shift. She thought it was a bad idea to split the shift between two people. Something about continuity of care.
Never mind that 1) the idea to split the shift was D's and was approved by his chief resident on the service; 2) when D approached another classmate to help him that person flat out refused so I was his last hope, 3) with the new residecy work hour regulations a 36 hour shift is illegal, and 4) if I hadn't been kind enough to give up my freedom on a Sunday evening D would have been watching his sister's wedding on video. But somehow, in the twisted minds that I work with, my generous gesture is evidence of my laziness and lack of dedication.
All I can say is that it's a good thing I know Jesus.
****************************************************************
Last night, during my shift from hell, a Jamaican couple came in for delivery. The woman was 40 years old but had refused genetic testing for fetal anomalies. She did agree to an ultrasound during the pregnancy which suggested the baby had down syndrome. The couple refused further testing. The patient's husband, mother and sister were all gathered to welcome the newest family member. Their demeanor was pleasant and serene.
I was called into the room when the birth was imminent. As I was gowning myself, I was startled by the hands of the baby's grandmother tying my surgical gown at my back. I thanked her and she smiled at me. As the nurses rushed about the room to prepare for delivery, the words "downs", "meconium" and "pediatrician" swirled about, but the family seemed completely unfazed. The woman gave birth to an adorable baby girl with apgars of 9 and 9, a normal nasal bone (which was supposedly absent on ultrasound) and no obvious signs of downs. After examining her the pediatricians declared that she would be going to the regular newborn nursery (as opposed to special care) but would need further testing.
All the while, the family quietly celebrated. The father was beaming. The aunt dabbed tears from her eyes. They politely thanked everyone for their help.
When we left the room the nurse whirled on me in disgust. "What just happened in there? Don't they know that baby has downs? Why are we supporting their denial?"
The Indian Ob/Gyn attending turned to me and said, "well, the baby may or may not have downs, but now we know why it looked like the nasal bone was absent on ultrasound. Did you see the father's nose? He looks like a chimpanzee! When you look at him you can see how we evolved from apes!"
And while the doctor and nurses gossiped and speculated about what they had witnessed, a father, mother, aunt and grandmother who didn't give a damn about any of them celebrated the birth of a baby girl. Their love had made doctors, nurses, triple screens, amniocentesis and even the possibility of down syndrome completely irrelevant.
The beauty in those moments is what helps me to endure.
posted by babydoc @ 1:50 PM
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