Page 102 of Hold the Pickle
When the baby is in place, I dash outside of the curtain. I grab the first nurse I see. “I need a neonatal team NOW. We just had a premature birth in curtain six.”
“What?”
“Get the team.”
She takes off, and I race to the supply closet, snatching a couple of blankets. Jesus Christ, we could not have been less prepared.
By the time I return with the blanket, another nurse is inside, talking on the phone. I cover Jennifer and the baby.
“I need to call my husband,” she says.
“We will. We still have a lot to do,” I tell her. “The placenta. Assessing the baby. But you did it. You did it, Mom.”
“Thank you for believing me.”
I don’t think I had a choice, but I tuck the blanket more tightly around her.
The NICU team arrives with an isolette. The neonatologist, a tall man in blue scrubs, takes in my badge. “You’re an intern. Who is the doctor on this?”
“Dr. Frazier wanted me to sit with her. We were waiting on obstetrics.”
“Frazier left a woman in labor?” The man stares at me incredulously.
I watch another member of the team listen to the baby’s heart. “He assumed it was Braxton-Hicks.”
“Jesus Christ.” He turns to the bed. “Mom, we’re going to take this little guy for a few minutes to make sure he’s all right.We’ll wheel him right behind you as we go to the maternity floor.”
“I want Dr. Murphy to go with us,” Jennifer says.
The neonatologist glances over at me. “Dr. Murphy is in emergency.”
“I want him. Please. Nobody else listened to me.”
“I can go,” I tell him. “I’m almost off shift, anyway. I’m happy to help.”
The neonatologist watches me another moment. “Was this your first delivery?”
I nod.
“All right. You earned it. Come up with us.”
Obstetrics arrives with a rolling gurney and the curtain is overcrowded. I’m about to leave when Jennifer calls, “Dr. Murphy, here, please!”
I move to the head of her bed.
“Please don’t leave me,” she says. She reaches for my hand.
We get her moved to the gurney, and our parade heads out of the ER and to the service elevator. Jennifer won’t let go of me.
Dr. Crisp, the OB/GYN on call, stands next to me as we go up to maternity. She watches me over the top of a pair of narrow glasses. “I hear this was your first delivery. No staff. No supplies.”
“No choice,” I say.
“You handled it well.” She glances at the woman’s hand clutching mine. “And you earned her trust. Are you sticking to emergency medicine?”
“I’ve been on the general medicine route.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “We lost a neonatology intern. Would you be interested? We could do a trial for a while, share you between wards. It wouldn’t have to disrupt your internship, and you could move to residency as planned next year.”
