Today marks an important anniversary. It was one of the scariest moments in my life, and so very profound. 6 months ago today, my child nearly died. In all my life, with all my nursing experience, I have never felt so helpless and panicked and alone.
On 3/13/10, we were in Guangzhou. The day started simply enough, breakfast in the White Swan (so beautiful), walking to the photo shop for the babies' visa photos, then walking to the clinic for the babies' physical exams. We had to walk because the island was undergoing huge construction, preparing for the Asian games this November. By the time we had arrived at the clinic, NiNi was looking a little duskier than usual. I thought her breathing sounded a little "wet", but she was alert and seemed ok. Her oxygen pillow (yes, portable oxygen in China is a nylon pillow with a roller clamp- it looks like a camping pillow...to give more oxygen, you either squeeze the pillow, or sit something heavy on it!) was running low, so the clinic doctor refilled one for me while we waited for the 3 part exam. The nurse laid NiNi flat for a nanosecond to weigh her, and she turned amazingly purple. It was awful!! At the exam, the doctor noted that her liver was enlarged. After about an hour, we were all preparing to leave and return to the White Swan. The head doctor of the clinic asked to speak to me. In the middle of the white marble foyer, he said to me "Did you know this baby has a heart defect?" When I said yes, he continued: "Your baby is very sick. I think she still has pneumonia, with heart failure. With her enlarged liver, she is probably going into body failure. I'm sorry, but I believe your child will not survive to go to the U.S. without medical transport, and even then I don't know that she will survive the trip. You need to take her to the hospital now, and see if they can help. I'm sorry." He also asked if Mom or I knew CPR.
We went back to the White Swan in shock. I packed a bag for baby and myself while we waited for a CCAI guide to arrive and take me to the ER. We went by taxi to the closer hospital. What a chaotic mess! Once the "triage" nurse saw NiNi, they took us back and put us in an ER room. It was crowded and noisy, so many sick children. One of the workers came over, took the oxygen tubing off the pillow and connected it to central Oxygen. NiNi was placed on a monitor, and the docs at the desk looked at the paperwork from the hospital in Zhengzhou, where we'd spent 2 days. They asked me if I knew baby had a heart defect. I said yes. They tried to put her on an oxygen mask, but I refused. I knew if they did, she would die because her carbon dioxide level would rise and knock out her drive to breathe. I tried to explain why, but no one understood. By this point, NiNi was SO incredibly purple...her oxygen sats were in the low 50's when we arrived, and soon were in the 40's (normal is >90%). The docs decided to send us across town, to the new Women and Children's Hospital, since they had a cardiac floor. They called the ambulance for transport- and that was the ONLY THING they did. I asked (thru the translator) them to suction NiNi's nose and throat. I could hear rattling, and she was too weak to cough. I thought it might open her airways so she could breathe easier...whether it was lost in translation, or no one gave a damn, I will never know...but they did nothing. So I stood, with this now-purple child, her lips and tongue black, her oxygen sats now reading 42. She was too weak to cry, but her eyes leaked tears as she stared at me, as if pleading for help. I had sent the translator to the desk 4 more times, asking/begging for suction equipment- I was going to suction her myself, if I could get some equipment. They just kept saying the ambulance was coming...it had been well over an hour by this point. There were 13, yes 13 doctors fussing over the baby boy in the next bed, but not 1 of them even looked at my child. I have never felt so helpless in all my life. I kept thinking "all the training, all the certifications I have, all the lives I've helped to save, and I'm going to watch my child die in my arms." I had already been in constant prayer since the clinic...I have never seen a human turn the color NiNi was that didn't die.
I remembered a story from catechism class (7th or 8th grade) with Pastor, about 2 men stuck in the desert. 1 was dying, and there was no help coming, so the 2nd man baptized the 1st, using his thumb and spit... I thought- maybe I can't save her life, but I CAN save her soul. So in that dirty, noisy, crowded, equipment-less room, I baptized my precious child with my thumb and spit. I was crying, trying to prepare myself for the worst. NiNi was growing weaker by the second; her heart rate had been over 200, but was dropping- a bad sign; her breathing was shallow- but she was awake, looking at me. I talked constantly to her, encouraging her to fight, to hang on...and in that most awful moment, the transport team arrived. The transport nurse walked in, took 1 look at NiNi, said "no" loudly, opened a closet down the hall, pulled out suction equipment and vigorously suctioned her. They removed a large gob of secretions that was occluding her airway. NiNi's oxygen sats returned to the 50's, and she began making sounds. We hopped in the ambulance and made the 30 minute ride across town to the newer hospital. I said many prayers of "thank you" that afternoon, to be sure.
We stayed at the Women and Children's Hospital until 3/20, when we took the train to Hong Kong to fly home.
