I think I peed myself

About a week ago, my partner and I got called to pick up a 4.8 kilogram baby (that’s about 10 ½ lbs for you non-metric people). You’re thinking, that’s an okay-sized baby, right? He was 4 months old, so, he was actually a bit teeny for his age.

So, of course, en route, we talk about stuff we could anticipate (like really bad things that could happen) and what we could do. One was that if the kid didn’t have an IV, then we should put one in (since he apparently had some trouble breathing and required oxygen the night before). So, I say, no problem. Yes, he should have an IV. Then my partner says, I haven’t put an IV in a baby less than 5 kg in a long time. My brain freezes for a minute. So, I say again (my voice steady, but my nerves starting to fray at the edges), no problem. Yes, he should have an IV. I hope he did not hear that quake in my voice and notice the big swallow I just took. My mantra for the rest of the ambulance ride to the hospital: Please have an IV. Please have an IV. Hey, you wouldn’t want to cause pain to a wee little babe, too, would you?

To my relief, my partner says, as we enter the hospital, well, we can always ask the nurses to put the IV in. After all, they’re pediatric/neonatal nurses. They have way more practice. That’s a great idea!!! So, we get to the floor, look over the kid for a couple of minutes, and what do you know? No IV. My partner gets busy getting the equipment ready for the baby. I’m on the phone with the receiving doctor. I ask the nurse if she could, please, put an IV in for me. Her reaction was unexpected. Her eyes got big and, I think, she went pale(r). She went to get another nurse. They look at the kid’s arms. They look at the kid’s feet. What’s going on here? One of the nurses said they need to go get the doctor’s permission. What? To put an IV in? My partner is packaging away. I’m on the phone. We want to just go. We really don’t want to spend extra time looking for the physician.

So, I go to the bedside, take the tourniquet, and go for the IV. I’m on hold with the doctor, remember? So, I’m holding the Nextel to my ear with my shoulder while I’m looking for veins on a tiny foot. I’m sweating. I’m nervous. I haven’t inserted an IV in, like, months. Hey, don’t get me wrong. I’m not too shabby at it, but I’ve got Mr. Master Paramedic as my partner (he’s been with the company forever and he’s one of our educators, so yeah, I’m a little intimidated and feeling inadequate). Someone asked me, is he cute? WHAT does that have to do with anything right now? Well, because it makes it worse. I’m trying to do something here. I’m kind of busy trying not to look stupid and incompetent, ok?

Alright, back to the story. Me, Nextel in my head. Tiny foot. Needle in my hand. Sweating. Heart rate going about a thousand a minute. Needle pointed, and, HAHA! Success! Whew! I felt lightheaded. I think I held my breath the whole time. And it felt like two hours. You have no idea how relieved I was. My heart rate was just recovering when I turned around for a second and my partner goes, uh-oh! Uh-oh????? Crap! I didn’t quite secure the tubing to the hub as well as I thought. I turned back around and I see blood coming out of the IV catheter. So, I quickly stop the bleeding and, guess who gets on the phone? The doctor. What does he say? Oh, the baby doesn’t sound too happy right now. Well, yeah. I just prodded him with a needle and now he’s bleeding all over the place. So, I give him report, ask if he wanted to give me any orders, he says no, I secure the IV (for real, this time), and voila! The baby is packaged and ready to go. My heart rate goes back to normal and my nausea subsides. I may need to change my flightsuit, though, I think I peed myself.