A Sad Day

Beleive it or not, the hospital isn't all
dying children and crazy staff.
There are good days, too. 

The day before I got sick, we admitted a little guy with Down's Syndrome who was having respiratory problems. I had not been able to determine what exactly was wrong with him, but he had obvious cardiac surgery, acidosis (probably respiratory), and was gray. I guessed that he was about less then a year-- age was hard to judge because of developmental delays. We did the same respiratory resuscitation efforts that we had done on Farah the day before and he was admitted to our pediatric ICU.

He wasn't doing very well when I came into today, with bruises on his body from what looked like DIC. I found out that he had been coded during the night. He was on a respirator and a heart monitor that was showing periods of apnea. I think that the heart monitor may have also been a defibrillator that was keeping him alive, but I wasn't able to find out. I worked in another area for about an hour, then when I went in to see how he was doing I saw that he had died. He was wrapped in a sheet that was taped closed, and someone had written something (probably a prayer) in green. I am not sure why the child died, or if he would have died had he been in the States. Down Syndrome kids tend to have pretty significant cardiac problems, so it was probably related to that and may or may not have been fixable.

About an hour later, the family started to congregate. I didn't take much notice of the men, but a young woman came in and sat in a different set of chairs and started to cry. Everyone was busy with rounds at this time. Now, the problem with working with families that have lost someone is that death rituals differ greatly, including among different areas and classes. So although my first instinct was to take this women in to see her son, I wasn't sure if that was appropriate.

I did know that, regardless of culture, it wasn't appropriate in any situation for this women to have to quietly sob while people were laughing at the nursing station five feet from her. I tried to get someone to take her someplace private (I didn't want to lead her away without telling her where she was going, and I didn't have the words to explain) and they started to take her into Farah's room (the young baby I've been caring for). Knowing that the last thing that women needed to see was another women holding a living baby, I intercepted the her and took the bewildered women into the nursing break room. I gave her some tissues and a glass of water and then demanded that she be allowed to see her son. 

Finally, two nurses took her into the PICU and unwrapped her son for her to see and touch. She cried,touched his face, and asked that he be covered up. The family wrapped up the youngster in a blanket and took him away.