Mistaken Identity
When my son was six weeks old, I knew there was a problem. A physical problem but he seemed to be doing well in spite of it. He was constantly hungry. Where my daughter was a very light eater, my son could drain those bottles of formula and still want more. He also had cramps. My husband and I would take turns sleeping and the other would rock him gently sitting in a rocking chair. Just as he was six weeks old, I was holding him and he projectile vomited across the room. The force of the flow was scary, and I knew I had to call the emergency number of the pediatrician. My husband was out with my daughter and since there was no such thing as cell phones, I had no way to reach him.
The doctor on call, as it turned out was the physician we used. After listening to me, he told me to take the baby to the ER and he would call ahead. I was frightened.
It was May 15, a Tuesday. The weather was very pleasant but cool. I was wearing white jeans and a light pink T-shirt. If I thought I had time to spare, I would have changed my clothes. I just grabbed my purse and wrapped up my baby, I got to the car and secured him in the infant seat and took him to the hospital.
The doctor had indeed called ahead and I was immediately taken to the room for him to be examined. Everytime the nurse took the baby from me he started to wail. It was decided that I should hold him and make life easier for everyone. A pediatrician came in and examined him. He “felt” something that he called an “olive.” He told me he was calling the pediatric surgeon in for consultation. When he walked out of the room, I realized that it was a lot colder than I thought. A nurse gave me a white lab coat. I was very thankful. It took about an hour for the surgeon to arrive. When he walked into the room I couldn’t believe THIS was the pediatric surgeon! He was a very large man, with very large hands! How could he operate on babies?
We walked into another room and he examined him and said that he had too much content in his stomach and he had to drain it . He barked some orders, someone brought over some contraption and he had me place the baby on a table. He was busy with wires and tubes etc. Then he looked at me and said, “Take this tube and insert it gently through the nasal passage till you reach……., so I did! Then he said, take this tube and ……… Again I followed the instructions. At that point he looked at me and said, “OK nurse, you can get the baby’s mother!” I looked at him and said, “I am the baby’s mother!” A look of horror crossed his face and he said, “Are you a nurse?”
I realized I was dressed in all white. I informed him that I was not a nurse, I was a teacher! He looked at me and said, “How did you know what to do?” I told him I followed his instructions!
The man was in a sweat. He checked what I did and turned on the machine and the remaining contents of the baby’s stomach was taken out of the space. After the procedure the doctor said to me, “You would make an excellent nurse!”
That poor man, he knew he could have been sued for a multitude of things, but all was well. It was much more his nightmare than mine. I know what he said was a compliment. But that nagging feminist voice in my said, “You would make an excellent doctor!”
The diagnosis of pyeloric stenosis, was not made. I had to switch formula to a soy based product, and thicken it a little with some baby oatmeal. That finally seemed to quench the hunger and he never vomited like that again. The cramps still existed for a few months. He was a colicy baby. Through it all, with all the lost sleep, the crying and pain, he remained the sweetest baby ever. His sister would talk to him and tell him that he was OK. She wanted to hold him, but he was far to big and heavy for her to do that.
