A bad way to start the day
Last week started with one of those calls where you really hope dispatch was wrong, but they aren’t. I panicked a little when I heard “Infant cardiac arrest.”
We all piled in the truck (‘we’ being my two bosses and another paramedic who has been on the job longer than I have been alive) and I was honestly feeling a little nauseous riding to the call.
I grabbed our peds bag and stepped into the ambulance. I panicked a little when I looked on the cot and saw that tiny baby and two EMTs doing their best with CPR. In that instant I already knew it was too late.
I took a millisecond to take stock of the situation and organize my thoughts. From there, it became business. I snapped into work mode: “Could you make your compressions harder and faster?” “Hand me the airway bag.” “Put that blanket under his body.” “I need a 2.5 tube.” “Could I have some suction.”
I was on airway and I panicked a little when I put my blade in and saw nothing. No landmarks at all, just tons of secretions. I gave it my best before someone else tried. Between myself and three senior paramedics, none of us could get the tube. But, we gave plenty of meds, and couldn’t convince the monitor to show us anything but asystole. My role transitioned to med timer and note taker and after only 15 minutes between us arriving on scene and getting to the hospital, we gave the baby the best chance it had.
In the ER we fruitlessly worked for another half a hour. It was not until then that I saw the parents. The doctor was very good to them, he let them in the room, and carefully explained what was going on; quiet words that would offer no hope, no comfort, but only cold hard truth.
Those are the facts and now I don't know what to say about it. I feel strangely unaffected. I am more worried that I feel so little than if I felt too much. I guess the self preservation side of me saw it as a challenge, an unexpected hurtle of my day. And, as I think about it, I can’t see it any other way. I simply can't see it for what it was: a human being, an innocent child, someone’s baby, a tragically short life, an event that could end a marriage, and will haunt a family for the rest of their lives. It is best not to dwell on these facts, important not to take on the sorrows of what we can’t change. It's why we cover up ugly wounds, drape a sheet over dead bodies, leave gruesome scenes behind; try to forget the truly bad. It's also why we laugh, discuss, ignore, decompress.
I went home and prayed for the baby.
I went to church and prayed for the baby.
It is all I can do.
We all piled in the truck (‘we’ being my two bosses and another paramedic who has been on the job longer than I have been alive) and I was honestly feeling a little nauseous riding to the call.
I grabbed our peds bag and stepped into the ambulance. I panicked a little when I looked on the cot and saw that tiny baby and two EMTs doing their best with CPR. In that instant I already knew it was too late.
I took a millisecond to take stock of the situation and organize my thoughts. From there, it became business. I snapped into work mode: “Could you make your compressions harder and faster?” “Hand me the airway bag.” “Put that blanket under his body.” “I need a 2.5 tube.” “Could I have some suction.”
I was on airway and I panicked a little when I put my blade in and saw nothing. No landmarks at all, just tons of secretions. I gave it my best before someone else tried. Between myself and three senior paramedics, none of us could get the tube. But, we gave plenty of meds, and couldn’t convince the monitor to show us anything but asystole. My role transitioned to med timer and note taker and after only 15 minutes between us arriving on scene and getting to the hospital, we gave the baby the best chance it had.
In the ER we fruitlessly worked for another half a hour. It was not until then that I saw the parents. The doctor was very good to them, he let them in the room, and carefully explained what was going on; quiet words that would offer no hope, no comfort, but only cold hard truth.
Those are the facts and now I don't know what to say about it. I feel strangely unaffected. I am more worried that I feel so little than if I felt too much. I guess the self preservation side of me saw it as a challenge, an unexpected hurtle of my day. And, as I think about it, I can’t see it any other way. I simply can't see it for what it was: a human being, an innocent child, someone’s baby, a tragically short life, an event that could end a marriage, and will haunt a family for the rest of their lives. It is best not to dwell on these facts, important not to take on the sorrows of what we can’t change. It's why we cover up ugly wounds, drape a sheet over dead bodies, leave gruesome scenes behind; try to forget the truly bad. It's also why we laugh, discuss, ignore, decompress.
I went home and prayed for the baby.
I went to church and prayed for the baby.
It is all I can do.
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