2:30 in the morning here, and an eerie quietness has finally blanketed the hospital. The babies arent crying, the mothers arent pacing the floors, the IVs are all functioning.
The past few days here at the hospital have been difficult with several very sick babies down for the count thanks to a recent outbreak of rotavirus. Rotavirus here is exactly what it is in the states, but here it can be much more dangerous, as these babies are in a much more fragile state when it comes to their health. Already malnourished, and with temperatures soaring above 110, dehydration becomes a very real and serious concern. And have you ever tried to start an IV on a dehydrated, malnourished, sick and screaming kid? Its about as fun as it sounds.
Yeah, I could go into some pretty disgusting details of EXACTLY what we are dealing with and seeing here, but I will spare you the trauma. Just know that it has been miserably hot– so hot that we have had difficulties getting temperatures to read on thermometers. I could also say that the past few days have been pretty CRAPPY.
However, after working nonstop 28 hours Sunday and having our amazing team of Drs coming back on Monday morning, its so nice to see many of the babies feeling better after a few difficult days of multiple IVs per kid, comforting many concerned and crying mamas, entertaining the other kids who are frustrated because they are isolated and cooped up in their room so as to not catch the yuck, and maybe 40 cups of coffee. My kidneys are going to hate me after this.
Its so humbling to see these sweet, sick babies… so well taken care of and asleep in their comfortable beds, while their mothers sleep on the floor next to their cribs. Many of the mothers here sacrifice so much so their baby can receive help. So many of them have left their families and homes to come here and stay at the hospital while we provide care. I realize the same thing happens in the states, but its usually far less inconvenient– where your child may only be in the hospital for a few days, your family is accessible via phone calls and facetime or many of the time may even be at the patient bedside, and visitors always have a comfortable place to sit or sleep.
I just pray that I never find my time spent here as common. I pray that the things I see dont become easier and that with every IV stick, every diaper change, every NG tube feeding, every vital sign taken and every medication administered, that I always remember the story on the other side of that– every hug, every tear wiped away, every Spanglish prayer that was prayed, every crying baby I rocked to sleep, every fever that finally broke, every smile that I have seen when a patient is told they no longer need their IV, that their nutritional status is stable, or they can finally be discharged to go home. My hope, above all else, is that through every action, no matter how tedious, mundane, or difficult, that I can display love and compassion to all who are here.
