Only one word can describe last night: busy. It was one of those nights where the ER door was a revolving door. We just kept getting call after call from them. Only one was actually a labor patient. The rest we simple things that we treated, fixed the problem and sent them home. I just seemed that we would get the discharge order and before we could actually go through discharge teaching with that patient, that there was someone else on their way up. It wasn't anything so busy we couldn't keep up, it just never stopped.
Lately we've had quite the variety of "stuff". Lets see, we had a couple crash sections, one for a complete previa, one for unknown reasons, preterm labors, a fetal demise. We had 2 patients who had their original due dates moved up by 4 weeks in the third trimester (even though 1 had an ultrasound at 10 weeks; I could get on a soap box here, but I'll refrain). One (who I took care of memorial day weekend when she was with her old doc) should have been 34 weeks, but according to her new doctor, she was 38 weeks, irregardless that first trimester ultrasounds are accurate at establishing dates, not third trimester US, unless something has changed I don't know about. So, she delivered, and guess what? Her baby had trouble breathing and was shipped to a NICU, and is still there dealing with problems caused by a preterm birth. We also had a neonatal death. It was an expected death because the baby had anomalies not compatible with life. The family had other children who were present to meet the baby. It was heart wrenching from the start, but what really was heart wrenching was the siblings. When the pediatrician said the baby was gone, those siblings just wailed like children do. I could cry just thinking about it. Last night I had a first for me. I admitted someone for a UTI and was going through all the questions we ask everyone every time they come in. I asked her what her date of birth was. She kinda mumbled, and I thought I heard "January '86", so I clarified. Nope, January 1996. Now she looked young, but 12?!?!? A few years ago we did have a 12 year old deliver a month after her mother had another baby. But I didn't take care of her. I graduated from high school the year this patient was born. I'm no spring chicken, but I'm not that old. It sent my mind to thoughts of "Crap, Clara is almost 4 years old...only 8 more years until she could get pregnant". I wasn't even thinking about sex when I was 12. Times, they sure have changed.
This week the kids and I went to visit my sister at her new place. It's a 4 hour drive from here, so I was worried about how they would handle the car ride. I can hardly sit still for 4 hours, let alone kids. Plus, I worried they would destroy her apartment, clog her toilet, and re-decorate the walls. The ride up was a pain, but not as bad as I thought. We had to stop for potty breaks, once because Clara unfastened her seat belt and couldn't get it re-fastened, and there was a lot of whining. But it really wasn't too bad. They didn't even destroy her place, too much. They did break a fan, and her cat was traumatized I'm sure. But nothing major I don't think. Hell, the only carpet stain was from me. And I tried to clean it up before she noticed, but I was caught in the act. We went to the zoo, played outside and played at the park. It was a pretty successful trip, and encouraging for future trips. Isaiah is scooting around already and was all over, trying to chew on cords or really anything in his path. It just doesnt seem right that he's mobile now. Only bad thing was Isaiah didn't sleep the first night. And really, I'm not exaggerating. He wanted to nurse constantly. I do side lying at night and I end up with a mild twist in my back. He'd fall asleep, and I try to just realign my hips, he'd wake up and we'd start all over. But, oh well. He slept a bit better the next night.