I'm on my way out; it's half past cold and dark, so I'm going to try and find some human companionship; people with whom I can spit at the advance of winter. But a couple of things occurred to me:
- At home I drink coffee in a mug purloined from my place of work. It has this fact emblazoned upon it, ostensiblt to prevent theft. But it actually egged me on. Where's the sense in that?
- A pox on medical technology. One of the things that keeps me going, especially through long dark nights of the soul, like this one, is the fact that we occasionally do some good. My most recent 'save' was a tiny baby. The call came through: "Seven day old child, unresponsive". This sort of thing is inherently sphincter tightening. Paeds really tests my comfort zone. Dammit! Who else is on..? Just me... Then they're here - mum in tears, dad confused tearing his air out, baby, quiet, not moving... grey.
I'm never quite sure what goes through the mind at times like this. Grey is not a good colour. It should be on your list of colours you're glad you aren't...
OK; airway's clear, and he's still breathing. God he's awful cool. Little heart is racing... I wonder if - and then the nurse pipes up "BM is off the scale low"! God love nurses, and little babies. His BM! This means his sugar is low. I don't know why, of course, but right now, I don't care. What do I do? I'm a professional, don't you know... I smear my finger with glucose, and I pop it in the little fella's mouth. He suckles himself right back to life. I think we both share a smile. Maybe a tear.
Now I know, he needs labs doing to determine the cause of his low blood sugar, and I know treating him without the labs makes subsequent workup a little bit more difficult, but today, I don't care. He came in grey, and went out pink.