We arrived at the hospital at 830 on Tuesday morning the 26th of March. Michelle needed to arrive earlier than the scheduled 1:30 C-section, so that she could have antibiotics administered for Streptococcus. (a bacteria that about 40% of women have, that can infect the baby if not dealt with)
The day did not start out too well. The nurse arrived to insert a drip in Michelle's arm. The first vein collapsed, and the second attempt was a disaster too. She then said : "I don't usually do this, I'd better go and find someone else to do it." and promptly disappeared. She returned a little while later saying she couldn't find anyone and set about trying again. Fortunately she was successful with this third attempt. She somehow managed to get one of her bar code stickers stuck on Michelle's stomach, all the while haunting me with her clumsiness.
Not long afterwards, the gynaecologist arrived. She hardly said a word to us and spoke to the nurse attending Michelle. The nurse asked how her foot was, and gynaecologist answered that it's fine because she took her medication that morning, but she could still work! I found that very reassuring.
The C-section was delayed. I asked by how long. Oh, about half an hour. More like three hours. The nurses said the gynae was busy with two other patients and said it was strange that it had been delayed as they usually are not. Michelle hadn't eaten since 730 that morning and was getting hungry.
When we eventually arrived in the operating theatre, the head of the theatre asked the same clumsy nurse why the patient was still wearing her jewellery. The anaesthetist was great, and his manner very professional. The gynae arrived and chatted to the nurse while scrolling through her sms's on her cell phone. She only spoke to me as she was holding the scalpel in her hand, asking me if it was a breach baby. My jaw dropped and I said "Excuse me?!". "Well, I can't remember all my patients!" was her reply.
I would have stopped her right there and then, but I wanted this over and there were at least a number of other medical staff around her. I still can't believe she said that. Even if she had been joking, which I doubt, it is poor taste, given the circumstances.(a week before she had said something similar) Secondly, if she had been joking, then she should have verified that she was doing so.
I watched the cut, and the blood vessels being cauterized, which made me glad I hadn't opted for a bacon breakfast that morning. The next bit happened so rapidly that it was over before I realised it had started. He came out bum first and promptly urinated all over the place. My arms instinctively reached out. (he still needed to be assessed though) It was a shock to see him. In the back of my mind I sort of imagined him coming out all squeaky clean and white, but instead I was presented with a dark red little Indian. My first thought was : Is he mine? He looks nothing like me! What has my wife been up to?
I held him after they had tested him, and contrary to what I had expected, I didn't break down in tears. His eyes were open all along and all the way in the incubator going back to the ward, he was looking around.
He was measured by the same nightmare nurse I wrote about earlier. She poured half a bottle of antibiotics down the side of his face and I just wanted to push her out the way. The Paediatrician was also great. One could see he was compassionate, unlike most of the others. I held my new son after that, doing that Australian Kangaroo thing, and this is when the tears streamed down my face. When Michelle was stitched up he was taken to her for feeding and my family could get to see him for the first time. Later on, the rest of the family got a chance. I stayed there a while, went to have a bite to eat and returned later that evening where they showed me how to bath him. The nurse (a different one) asked what the bump on the back of his head was. She said she had never seen something like it. I said I'm sure the Paediatrician would have mentioned if it was something out of the ordinary. Then I imagined having a son that looked like a mini Jacob Zuma and how far he would go if he joined the ANC later in life. I made a note to ask the Paediatrician about it in the morning. Then I went home for pretty much the last decent sleep I would have for a while.
In the morning I returned to the hospital to find Michelle in tears. Our son was not beside her bed any more. She told me they had taken him away to see the Paediatrician as he wasn't well. I practically ran to the ward he was in. He was in an incubator, crying, and his breathing was very shallow and rapid. They didn't know what was wrong with him and told me they were waiting for blood tests to come back. I asked how long it would take and they said twenty minutes. I still don't know the results of THAT test. The Paediatrician said that their ICU was full and that he would have to be transferred to another hospital that had available space. He was phoning around and gave me some options and I chose the one that was closest to us. It was awful, seeing my son like that, waiting for everyone to get their stuff in order. Some other cocky head of department said he may have ingested amniotic fluid when he was delivered. The gist of it is that he was infected with something.
We were waiting for the ambulance to arrive. How long? 10 minutes they said. Half an hour later they said it could be any time, as the ambulance could not find an incubator for him to travel in.(only in South Africa, said the nurse)
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