Picture: My beautiful mom and baby me
"Doctor, Doctor, save my child!"
Words I absolutely dread hearing.
When I took the Hippocratic oath, I was so excited. My face gleamed in pride as I said the sacred words and I thought about all the people my skills would help -
- Flash back, 2015, medical school interview.
A stern, balding, cardiologist questioned me.
"Why do you want to become a doctor?"
I want to help my people, I said, smiling. "My people."
"Doctor! Doctor, my baby!"
I shuddered back into reality. Her baby.
Beautiful, but still. Too still.
And cold, so cold.
She lifted a picture of her child - Beautiful and brown. Toothless. Large eyes. Chubby cheeks.
"Doctor!!!!"
We spurred into action:
Vital signs: unrecordable.
Heart beat: faint.
So faint.
We attached her to monitors.
The monitor beeped:
Temperature is too low. Temperature is too low. SpO2 unrecorded. Temperature is too low.
I knew how this will end, but we tried anyway.
IV fluids stat.
Blood transfusion, stat.
Antibiotics, stat.
Electrolyte correction, stat.
Dopamine infusion, stat.
"Doctor, Doctor, Doctor...!!!!"
By this time, my ward coat felt hot. Itchy. Uncomfortable. The weight of the doctor title was clanging down on my brain. Instant headache. Sweat meandered down my face.
The end came. Sometimes it is slow. Sometimes it is very quick. In these cases, it is almost always sure.
Her extremities were so cold. So very cold.
If we had gotten her 4 hours prior -
I am day-dreaming again, wishing I can turn back the hands of time.
Temperature is too low. Temperature is too low. Heart rate not detected. Temperature is too low.
We commenced resuscitation. We aborted resuscitation after 30 minutes.
Time of death:- ...
We told the mother. She went erect instantly.
Hands covered her face.
"Allah Akbar. Allah Akbar!!"
God is great. God is great.
Everywhere, quiet.
She saw the silence. She touched her baby. She looked from me, to my colleagues, to her still, cold, baby. She let out a scream:-
"Doctor, Doctor, No!"
And I know that at that moment, her heart had broken into a million pieces.
Her baby did not have to die. It started with diarrhea, refusal of feeds, weakness. High temperature.
Instead of seeking health care, she tried other things...and then, she watched and prayed.
And watched...
And watched...
Until she could watch no more.
By then it was too late.
She had taken medical advice from neighbours, friends, grandmothers - anyone but a medical professional - because she had been full of fear.
Fear of the hospital had kept her away.
Fear of medical bills had kept her away.
Fear of scary diagnoses had kept her away.
And now, it is too late. Her worst fear had come to pass.
It is heart sickening to take medical history, sometimes. I can almost predict the answers.
There is usually a poor antenatal history.
Labour was done at home, local midwife, qualifications based on experience alone.
Postnatal feeds? Formula,and Hollandia yorgurt.
Newborns cannot process yorgurt adequately. There are specific directions to be followed when using Formula milk, and breast milk is still the best.
And the mother? She is very sick too.
No checkups post delivery.
She is malnourished, exhausted, overwhelmed, depressed...and now, heartbroken.
There are no words sincere enough to comfort a motherless child. None.
And while not all deaths can be prevented, a lot of them can, by simply seeking medical care early enough...because when a baby dies, a huge chunk of the mother dies too.
Nothing is "too stupid" to ask about caring for your body and your child.
Medical doctors took an oath for you. Ask away.
The hospital doors are always open.
Thank you @med-hive community for the prompt!
Picture: My colleague, my senior colleague and I
Pictures are all mine