Jan 11th/2011
Arrived in ANC paired with Jenny to work with Dr.Joseph and Dr.Joanne. There were three women who needed to go to ultrasound so Jenny and I went together to take them. The areas we walked through were packed full of people. Outdoor corridors/hallways with people filling the benches and some even on the floor. We didn’t have to wait too long until we were allowed inside the ultrasound room. Two of the woman’s ultrasounds showed healthy, living fetuses and the other there was no evidence of a pregnancy at all. She was upset, and very disappointed. We arrived back at the ANC ward and I worked together with Dr.Joseph to do a couple of checkups on women. He was a really great teacher. At some point, sister Leticia asked me to start doing checkups on a third table/bed since there were so many women. She brought me the first woman and I started off by palpating to identify the position of the fetus. I had a difficult time feeling or locating the head – I asked Rachel, my staff, to check and she had the same problem. I took out my pinard to look for the fetal heart rate but couldn’t find anything. I moved it around a few times but still, nothing. Rachel also tried finding it, as well as Leticia –but neither of them could find the heart rate either. We had Leticia ask the mum whether she had felt the baby move in the last few days. She was somewhere around 28-32 weeks. She said that a couple of days earlier the baby had stopped moving and that she had had some bleeding. I asked if I could take her to ultrasound to get things checked out. We walked together and on the way I got to know her a little bit. How many children she had, whether they were boys or girls and what their ages were. I was able to get her in for her ultrasound very quickly and, as we had all suspected, they found only a lifeless fetus inside of her. IUFD. They wrote the necessary information down on her form and gave it to me to bring back to the doctors so they could explain the situation to her. It was heart wrenching. I wasn’t sure how to act or even what to say. As we started walking back together to the ANC ward, she looked at me with guarded hope in her eyes and asked in Swahili whether the baby was okay. All I knew to say was to wait for the doctor and that the baby was not good. We arrived back and she was left to sit and wait on a bench for a couple of hours. I wasn’t there with her when the news was explained. Sister Leticia put me to work doing different things. I did a couple more antenatal checkups and helped her with administration/paperwork stuff. At some point Emily came running in from the labor ward to ask if I could go with her in an ambulance to transfer a baby to another hospital. She was going to need help doing resuscitation along the way. I was honored that she had chosen me to be the one to go with her. I’m not sure if it was just because I seemed available, or if she trusted me to be a reliable and trustworthy set of hands to assist her in fighting for a baby’s life. She left and came back again saying that it was time. I followed her out to the ambulance where she was sitting with two women beside her and an almost completely lifeless little boy on her lap. The ambulance was a 4-wheel drive truck with a bench and a mattress in the back. No supplies of any kind and no medical assistance. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to little Hezekiah had we not been there to fight for him. We sat in the back of the vehicle, absolutely boiling from the heat, and waited… As always. Everything takes time here. Especially in the hospital. We were waiting for additional patients to come into the ambulance with us. As far as I know, it is the only vehicle that they have available and so they need to transfer as many patients as possible in one trip. Emily sat on the bench with the baby on her lap, the mother, Esther, sat to her right and then there were two other women beside her, each with sick babies of their own. I wondered how long we would have to wait. I knelt beside Emily and did chest compressions while she pumped air into his tiny lungs through the bag and mask. He was not breathing on his own but had a fairly regular, steady heartbeat. I started praying the second I entered that ambulance and didn’t stop until we had left him and the mum at Muhimbili, the other hospital. I don’t think I have ever prayed so fervently and with such urgent need. I was practically demanding that God would bring life and not allow this little boy to die. It was exhausting but so worth it. I remembered what peter brownhill had said when he taught us during the lecture phase in perth about interceding on behalf of babies and mothers and how when we choose to take on the role of a priest and represent the people to God, we are willingly taking the attack that has come on that woman or child, upon ourselves. I certainly felt and experienced that during our drive to Muhimbili hospital. Now, it is extremely rare to see Africans outwardly display their emotions. From what I have seen and experienced, the only time you see/hear them cry is when there has been death. Esther, the mother, was very clearly distraught as she sat and watched us try to keep her baby alive. I could hardly look at her because of how deeply it affected me. She was in so much pain watching her newborn boy suffering and not knowing if he would live. All I had to do was look at her and I would immediately feel and experience her grief and uncertainty in my own heart. She had a steady flow of tears that she would quickly wipe away with her khanga and a look of absolute agony and fear in her eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it. I think that her face will forever remain engraved in my mind. To be honest, I wasn’t totally sure or even confident that Hezekiah was going to make it. All I knew to do was to continue to pray with fervency and desperation and hope and expectation. I asked God to do a miracle and mustered up every ounce of faith I had within me to believe in that possibility. My prayers were basic, demanding, and to the point.
Arrived in ANC paired with Jenny to work with Dr.Joseph and Dr.Joanne. There were three women who needed to go to ultrasound so Jenny and I went together to take them. The areas we walked through were packed full of people. Outdoor corridors/hallways with people filling the benches and some even on the floor. We didn’t have to wait too long until we were allowed inside the ultrasound room. Two of the woman’s ultrasounds showed healthy, living fetuses and the other there was no evidence of a pregnancy at all. She was upset, and very disappointed. We arrived back at the ANC ward and I worked together with Dr.Joseph to do a couple of checkups on women. He was a really great teacher. At some point, sister Leticia asked me to start doing checkups on a third table/bed since there were so many women. She brought me the first woman and I started off by palpating to identify the position of the fetus. I had a difficult time feeling or locating the head – I asked Rachel, my staff, to check and she had the same problem. I took out my pinard to look for the fetal heart rate but couldn’t find anything. I moved it around a few times but still, nothing. Rachel also tried finding it, as well as Leticia –but neither of them could find the heart rate either. We had Leticia ask the mum whether she had felt the baby move in the last few days. She was somewhere around 28-32 weeks. She said that a couple of days earlier the baby had stopped moving and that she had had some bleeding. I asked if I could take her to ultrasound to get things checked out. We walked together and on the way I got to know her a little bit. How many children she had, whether they were boys or girls and what their ages were. I was able to get her in for her ultrasound very quickly and, as we had all suspected, they found only a lifeless fetus inside of her. IUFD. They wrote the necessary information down on her form and gave it to me to bring back to the doctors so they could explain the situation to her. It was heart wrenching. I wasn’t sure how to act or even what to say. As we started walking back together to the ANC ward, she looked at me with guarded hope in her eyes and asked in Swahili whether the baby was okay. All I knew to say was to wait for the doctor and that the baby was not good. We arrived back and she was left to sit and wait on a bench for a couple of hours. I wasn’t there with her when the news was explained. Sister Leticia put me to work doing different things. I did a couple more antenatal checkups and helped her with administration/paperwork stuff. At some point Emily came running in from the labor ward to ask if I could go with her in an ambulance to transfer a baby to another hospital. She was going to need help doing resuscitation along the way. I was honored that she had chosen me to be the one to go with her. I’m not sure if it was just because I seemed available, or if she trusted me to be a reliable and trustworthy set of hands to assist her in fighting for a baby’s life. She left and came back again saying that it was time. I followed her out to the ambulance where she was sitting with two women beside her and an almost completely lifeless little boy on her lap. The ambulance was a 4-wheel drive truck with a bench and a mattress in the back. No supplies of any kind and no medical assistance. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to little Hezekiah had we not been there to fight for him. We sat in the back of the vehicle, absolutely boiling from the heat, and waited… As always. Everything takes time here. Especially in the hospital. We were waiting for additional patients to come into the ambulance with us. As far as I know, it is the only vehicle that they have available and so they need to transfer as many patients as possible in one trip. Emily sat on the bench with the baby on her lap, the mother, Esther, sat to her right and then there were two other women beside her, each with sick babies of their own. I wondered how long we would have to wait. I knelt beside Emily and did chest compressions while she pumped air into his tiny lungs through the bag and mask. He was not breathing on his own but had a fairly regular, steady heartbeat. I started praying the second I entered that ambulance and didn’t stop until we had left him and the mum at Muhimbili, the other hospital. I don’t think I have ever prayed so fervently and with such urgent need. I was practically demanding that God would bring life and not allow this little boy to die. It was exhausting but so worth it. I remembered what peter brownhill had said when he taught us during the lecture phase in perth about interceding on behalf of babies and mothers and how when we choose to take on the role of a priest and represent the people to God, we are willingly taking the attack that has come on that woman or child, upon ourselves. I certainly felt and experienced that during our drive to Muhimbili hospital. Now, it is extremely rare to see Africans outwardly display their emotions. From what I have seen and experienced, the only time you see/hear them cry is when there has been death. Esther, the mother, was very clearly distraught as she sat and watched us try to keep her baby alive. I could hardly look at her because of how deeply it affected me. She was in so much pain watching her newborn boy suffering and not knowing if he would live. All I had to do was look at her and I would immediately feel and experience her grief and uncertainty in my own heart. She had a steady flow of tears that she would quickly wipe away with her khanga and a look of absolute agony and fear in her eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it. I think that her face will forever remain engraved in my mind. To be honest, I wasn’t totally sure or even confident that Hezekiah was going to make it. All I knew to do was to continue to pray with fervency and desperation and hope and expectation. I asked God to do a miracle and mustered up every ounce of faith I had within me to believe in that possibility. My prayers were basic, demanding, and to the point.
When we arrived at Muhimbili it had been 20-30 minutes. We rushed the three babies that we had in our care up to the second floor where the neonatal intensive care unit is. It was room after room filled with newborn babies, all fighting for their lives. (Temeke doesn’t have any kind of neonatal care –this is why we always have to transfer babies when they are unwell). I was relieved to pass on the care of Hezekiah while still being concerned about the likelihood of his survival. By then I felt absolutely exhausted from having battled so intensely for his little life and I could hardly stand the heart ache of being in that room filled with at least 30 other babies, all in critical condition. There were two to each crib and I went around to each one observing, praying, my heart breaking over their suffering. So many lives on the line. Such an intense and heart wrenching environment to be in. They hooked him up to oxygen and got an IV line started. He still was only able to breathe on his own sporadically, but he seemed to be improving. We left him in their care after about an hour or so of staying with him to make sure that he would be properly cared for.
(Found out today, Jan 13th, that Hezekiah is alive and well –continuing to be monitored at Muhimbili hospital. Praise be to God.)
No comments:
Post a Comment