Surviving the Joint

Sam before going under general anesthesia for some dental work....

... and Sam after.

Today's hospital visit took me back to when Sam was first born and we spent 3 1/2 weeks imprisoned in the NICU. Today's visit was not nearly as unpleasant as the NICU stay, but there were moments during the day in which I was reminded just how inhospitable hospitals are. Awhile back I put together some tips on how to survive the neo-natal intensive care unit and thought I'd put it here on my blog for the sake of any parents who might be facing a similar stay:

~ Trust no one. Doctors can, will and do lie. And the nurses often have no choice but to back them up. It helps to have a contact on the outside to get factual information. Hospital visitation hours serve well for these purposes, but if that doesn't work info can be passed along via the card accompanying a nice bouquet of flowers.

~ Shift changes are the best time to learn “private” info about you and your baby. Nurses will tell you there are no visitation hours during shift changes (yes, the parents are considered “visitors”) and you must leave, so try to arrange to breastfeed (or pump) in the middle of shift changes. The nurse at the end of her shift won’t want to wait until you’re done because she’s eager to get home. She’ll share all the updates with the nurse coming on while you sit and pretend to be involved with your baby (or pump).

~ Sleep with one eye open. Bad things happen at night. If you’re not watching an x-ray tech might try to come into your baby’s room at 2am to flip him onto his back and x-ray his lungs, putting pressure on the surgical site where he just had brain surgery earlier that day, all this despite the fact that there is absolutely nothing wrong with your child’s lungs. And when you, in your groggy state, try to convince him he has the wrong room he will continue to argue with you while fiddling with your sleeping babe who had a hard time getting to sleep in that room with the beeping machines. You’ll have to have a clear enough head to rip his files from his callous hands and point out that the name on the file does not match the name on the ankle band of this baby who is now crying because some dumbshit woke him up.

~ Better yet don’t go to sleep. Did I mention bad things happen at night? When it’s time for your baby’s scheduled middle of the night feeding one of the “compassionate” nurses might decide to let you sleep and shove a tube down your baby’s nose and into his throat to feed him while he screams his protests. Because she just hates to see him “struggle” with the bottle. Then you can secretly cheer when he vomits the pumped breastmilk into the nurse's mouth... and politely refuse to consent to an HIV test.

~ Lie, lie, lie. They do it why can’t you? When talk starts turning to GI tubes for feedings you do everything you can to convince them it has only taken your baby 15 minutes to drink 4oz... when it’s really taken 45.

~ Avoid eye contact. Sometimes the doctors and nurses don’t want you in the room while they’re performing a procedure but sometimes your baby just needs you anyway. If you can avoid eye contact with the medical staff while they politely ask you to leave and focus only on your baby they will usually leave you alone – as long as you don’t interfere with their work, of course.

~ If you want the private room then birth at home. Doctors and nurses hate those germs you bring from home and like to keep you and baby separate from the other patients. They call it quarantine but I call it a private room with a view.

~ BYOB. If your baby was one of the lucky ones to have been born on the outside then you’ll have to bring your own beverages. The staff treat their own new mothers to complimentary sippers full of gatorade... but maybe this is just to make up for the fact that those mothers got nothing but ice chips during labor.

~ Kiss up to the nurses. Say whatever you want behind their backs but make nice when they’re looking. Your stay will be a lot more manageable with the nurses on your side.

~ Do whatever you can to (reasonably) avoid going back to that place. Doctors might tell you that your child is an “urp and a burp” away from death or that if you don’t get him to the hospital he might “meet his maker” but sometimes they have to say these things just to cover their own a$$es (those dollar signs aren’t just there to soften the word). And what if you heard this, “When I was an ER doctor I saw kids brought in with exactly what your son has and they died shortly after arriving.” Why the heck would anyone want to take her baby somewhere to die? I’ll keep him at home where he’ll be safe, thank you.