The fever I developed on Day 5 made me pray in vernacular. All politeness with the nurses had gone out the window. Unleash the dragon-lady. I ordered one nurse aide to bring me a personal thermometer. Another to bring me a blanket. It was 32 degrees Celsius. They both looked confused with these requests and neither of those two ever returned. My teeth were chattering and body shaking like a leaf. So this is what they mean by chills and rigors. You would be surprised at some of the concepts a medic never really understands until it happens to them.
Differential diagnosis time. What could I have developed? An infection from the hospital? A urinary tract infection? Peritonitis? Peuperal sepsis? Any other sepsis? Throat infection? Cholera??? My mind would not shut down. These were all possible. Why were the nurses moving so slowly? Had they called the doctor? Where was my blanket? Why was I developing a fever now? I could hear murmurings of concern that the doctor patient in 5b is crying, what do we do?
Most mothers at this stage were at home now, romantically nursing their babies whilst sipping a cold glass of water as Gina Ford had advised. Maybe their bodies were already back to normal. How long are we given to "bounce back" again?
Instructions over the phone were to increase my IV medications. More painful infusions. Battery of investigations done. Meanwhile tummy still like a drum. An angelic 5 day old still wants his juice every 2 hours. And the routine of the hospital unapologetically continued.
My husband became my nurse, doctor and counsellor that day and somehow by the time the real doctor came, I was feeling better. Hubby's tactics included force feeding and demolition of pity parties. Health workers have a lot to learn from real people. A little TLC goes a long way.
I had finally calmed down. Fever had broken. Some movement in the bowels were cause for mini celebration. There was hope again. The doctor said if there's no fever tomorrow morning, I can go home.
Jubilations.
I did not have a fever that night. And was discharged the next day but over the next 2 weeks that fever would rear its ugly head again not less than 5 times.
The day I was discharged, my meds were stopped too early. Administration took hours to process my papers. By the time I arrived home there were razors in my belly and I felt weak and fragile. Not at all how I imagined homecoming. Still it was good to be home with our latest addition. His older sister took to her brother almost immediately. She offered him her favourite blanket. It was in that moment I knew that no matter what, all this was worth it.
Differential diagnosis time. What could I have developed? An infection from the hospital? A urinary tract infection? Peritonitis? Peuperal sepsis? Any other sepsis? Throat infection? Cholera??? My mind would not shut down. These were all possible. Why were the nurses moving so slowly? Had they called the doctor? Where was my blanket? Why was I developing a fever now? I could hear murmurings of concern that the doctor patient in 5b is crying, what do we do?
Most mothers at this stage were at home now, romantically nursing their babies whilst sipping a cold glass of water as Gina Ford had advised. Maybe their bodies were already back to normal. How long are we given to "bounce back" again?
Instructions over the phone were to increase my IV medications. More painful infusions. Battery of investigations done. Meanwhile tummy still like a drum. An angelic 5 day old still wants his juice every 2 hours. And the routine of the hospital unapologetically continued.
My husband became my nurse, doctor and counsellor that day and somehow by the time the real doctor came, I was feeling better. Hubby's tactics included force feeding and demolition of pity parties. Health workers have a lot to learn from real people. A little TLC goes a long way.
I had finally calmed down. Fever had broken. Some movement in the bowels were cause for mini celebration. There was hope again. The doctor said if there's no fever tomorrow morning, I can go home.
Jubilations.
I did not have a fever that night. And was discharged the next day but over the next 2 weeks that fever would rear its ugly head again not less than 5 times.
The day I was discharged, my meds were stopped too early. Administration took hours to process my papers. By the time I arrived home there were razors in my belly and I felt weak and fragile. Not at all how I imagined homecoming. Still it was good to be home with our latest addition. His older sister took to her brother almost immediately. She offered him her favourite blanket. It was in that moment I knew that no matter what, all this was worth it.
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