PICU – Drains out

Saturdays in the Paediatric Intensive Care Unit felt different from weekdays. The doctors and nurses seemed more relaxed. The place felt quieter. Like going shopping on a Sunday, it’s still busy but not as much as the rest of the week. I liked the more relaxed vibe. I chatted to our nurse for the day and found out a little about her. Every day is a new nurse and it was always nice to get to know them a little bit. They would be with me for their whole 12 hour shift pretty much, which can be an intense time span to be close to each other and not talking. It also helped pass the time. I found out that on the weekends, unless an emergency, no surgery took place. Also, no meetings happened. The weekends were for maintenance, observing and recovery. The real business happened during the week and that’s why it all felt smoother. I was surprised to learn that Zach would be having his drain out and later would probably be coming off his ventilator.

First the doctors’ rounds had to happen. Then the individual doctors would come back to check what would be needed. So it was lunch time before it was confirmed. Doctor Jeff came to remove his drain. Dr Jeff is the Shoreditch of the PICU doctors. A very cool cucumber indeed. He came over to explain to me that they would give Zach ketamine to give him a nice sedation in order to take the drain out from his chest. I made some silly jokes about ketamine and to my surprise was greeted by laughs! Yes, Dr Jeff found me funny. Some of the doctors were all very serious which sometimes made more nervous, like being back at school as a student. I hovered by Zach’s bed as they started the procedure, but I couldn’t hang around and watch. It is a thick tube that was being pulled out and I really didn’t fancy seeing the hole it left behind. So I went and sat in the parents room for a few minutes whilst they finished.

When I came back it was all done. Dr Jeff was sat back at the middle station that was central to all of the beds. I went over and said thank you to him directly. Myself and Emmanuel always found it surprising how few people say thank you to the doctors and nurses. I know it’s their job but I was thankful to him, so why not say it!

I went over to Zach who was now very, very out of it thanks to the ketamine. I joked with the nurse about him hopefully having a nice little high. I really should stop making drug jokes to the nurse and doctors or they were going to start thinking I was going to try and sneak some home with me or something. Zach was high as a kite and I was glad. He deserved to not feel pain right now. They told me that it would be a few hours before he came round enough to take the ventilator out, but five hours later he was still very high. He was twitching and wiggling around every now and again, but he wasn’t aware enough to be able to take his own breaths and so it stayed in for now.

It wasn’t until 6pm that night that the ventilator finally came out. He hated having all the hands on him, but he was happy when it was gone. He loved sucking on his dummy again afterwards. It was nice to see him without the tube in. He was super sleepy afterwards and so I just sat holding his hand again. I didn’t stroke his head too much as it made him wiggle around, which I think must have hurt him. So, I just sat and stayed there. I am sure he knew I was there. It was a big day for him. Emmanuel was gutted that he had missed this. He had been sorting things out at home for us. I messaged him all the updates but it’s not the same as being there. All that mattered was that Zach was ok, but we like to do things together when we can. He was so happy to see him when he arrived later that day. It was really sweet to watch him. “Hello Son,” he sang over our sleepy baby. He warmed my heart.

That evening we headed back to Ronald McDonald House feeling positive. He’d had the surgery. He was through the worst part of the recovery process, right? Well that’s what we thought.

Savannah Part two – Tea and Toast angels

Savannah ward became my home for the next six days until Zach would have his first surgery. We had no idea it would take that long before his operation but he was a tricky little critter and so posed a conundrum for the doctors. For six days I stayed on the Savannah ward with Zach day and night.

The first two nights I had the hospital bed that sat upright in the bay next to Zach’s. The nurses pulled the curtains around to make us one giant bay together. The first two nights I managed at least two hours of comfortable sleep. The third night the ward was full so I had to sleep on the pull-down bed next to Zach’s cot. That night I remember so distinctly. I was laying on the bed shivering and shaking from the urinary tract infection I had. I was wrapped up in two hospital blankets, but I was still icy cold. I had an upset stomach and kept getting up to have to go to the toilet as everything was simply passing through me. (TMI.) And Zach was not feeding very well. He was feeding constantly or just sleeping for too long and his blood sugar would then drop. By the time the morning arrived I was a wreck. Then an angel nurse came in and saw me crying over Zach’s cot at the start of her shift. He was sound asleep and I was drowning him in my tears. She promptly pulled the curtains around us and stated ‘I am getting you some tea and toast.’ I nodded unable to speak. I leant back over his cot again and continued to cry. She reappeared later with the tea and toast.

“I’m sorry” I mumbled. Wiping snot from my nose.

“I haven’t slept and I am ill and I have a bad stomach and I can’t help myself I just keep crying.” I blurted out all at once. Angel nurse stood calmly and listened to me as I droned on about my poor self and how much I felt like I couldn’t look after Zach. I thought He was upset all the time. That I didn’t know if we were doing the right things for him. She listened and listened as I cried my way through an onslaught of emotions. I finally managed to pause and drink some tea.

“It’s a really good tea. Thank you” I told her.

“The trick is to use two tea bags.” She smiled at me and somehow, I felt better. Her kindness and the tea had brought back some sense of logic.

“Can you watch him whilst I have a shower?” I asked her. And of course, she did.

The angel nurse that day took care of me just as much as she did Zach. We started talking about many things and somehow my day lifted. It took me away from what was happening in front of me. I will be forever grateful to her.

Some of the nurses on Savannah were the kindest people I have ever met. I honestly don’t know how they did it. How they keep their patience. How they deal with seeing sick babies’ day after day. The Savannah ward is a unique place. A sort of microcosm. An ecosystem all of its own. It became my whole world and the nurses, my friends. Myself and Emmanuel had nick-names for some of them as we couldn’t remember all of their names. One was ‘Team leader.’ As she seemed to be the one that everybody was friends with. She was the Queen bee of the group when she was in. There was ‘Social Media’ who was often on her phone. We overheard her once asking a colleague what emoji she should send to a guy she was talking to. Each nurse had their own way of doing things as well. It was a game during shift changeovers to see which nurse we would get. I loved messaging Emmanuel and saying, ‘Today is going to be a good day, we have one of our favourites again’. At night If I had a nurse that I trusted (which was most of them) I would ask them to do one of Zach’s feeds for me if I was asleep so that I could get at least four hours sleep. They would often sneak into the bay and do just that. Letting me get some much-needed rest. They would say ‘well we have to be awake so we might as well do it. But you need some sleep.’ 

As the days on Savannah wore on, my time there started to get to me. I was going back to Ronald MacDonald House (our accommodation) in the afternoon and getting a two-hour nap. Then about four hours at night if I was lucky. Which sounds great for a new mum, but I wasn’t at home. I couldn’t lounge on the sofa all day, or call my mum or mother in law to come and help me. I had to sit and wait for the doctor’s rounds. I had to try and take in the information they gave. I watched Zach’s machines as they beeped away all day. I kept track in my head the of all the numbers. I was constantly on high alert. I think my cortisol stress hormone levels were probably through the roof! Plus, I was recovering from my own surgery. Every time I lifted Zach out of his cot, I could feel my wound pull. I would wince with pain as I pulled myself up from the low-down beds to stand up. My feet were swollen and puffy. My body ached for a proper bed and I cried constantly. I was a mess. But I looked around and every other parent there was in the same position as me.

All the parents dealt with things differently. Some would keep to themselves and watch their phones all day long. Others would chat to everybody they could. Some started to take it out on each other. I heard one distinctive argument from a couple that I will never forget. I wish I hadn’t have overheard it, but we all deal with things differently and I guess that was their way. One night on a ward together and you know the sound of every body’s snores, their babies cry and each person’s toilet habits during the night. You get very comfortable very quickly. Let’s face it they all saw me wandering around with a bra and maternity pjs on all day. I was constantly breastfeeding and had no care for covering up. So, they probably thought of me as the crazy, breastfeeding, crying woman.

There is a parent’s room at the end of the ward on Savannah. A haven for parents to step away from the bay when needed. To make a cup of tea or to store food. To be honest It wasn’t the nicest room in the world. It did have a lovely big open window that looked across to St Thomas’ Hospital building which is quite beautiful. I stood by that window and cried when Zach had his blood tests done. I stood by that window when I just needed to breathe after another day with no news. I stood by that window listening to hear if Zach had woken up. It was a good window.

The parent’s room also became the place of small talk. ‘How was your night?’ ‘Are the stitches out yet?’ and ‘ah fantastic she had her feeding tube out.’ Were common conversational topics. At first, it was really scary to talk to other parents. I felt as though I wasn’t qualified to be there. But I soon realised nobody was. We were all new to this. Or most of us were. Most babies on this ward were cardiac babies, all under a month old. Some were older. But I only saw one child who was older than five and she was only in for the day. That’s the nature of the ward and the specialism in the hospital. It all happens when babies are firstborn. So, unless someone had an older child then we were all very new to this. The nurses knew more than us. Heck, even the kids knew what was going on more than we did. It is scary being a first-time parent, then being a first-time parent to a cardiac baby.

Soon those small conversations became mood lifters. A little chat about progress during the time the kettle boiled could lift a whole morning. Often, I would feel as though Zach wasn’t like the others and as he hadn’t come in and then gone for surgery. But as I got talking, I realised it was common for babies to take longer, or to come back later. It made me feel better to know it wasn’t just us. The same for when I was feeling as though Zach was doing really well. Another parent would need me to reassure them. I Would tell them that we had been here a week and that it does get easier. We were all in the same boat, floating down the Savanah River.