ventilation

No. This is not a blog about how to ventilate a baby. Or maybe it is. Hmmm. Really it is more for me to fan down my slowly burning feelings of irritation rather than it explode into a fireball. I need to ventilate.

I was in the resuscitation room with a 33 week baby, who was born via complete breech extraction. Oh, and the head did deliver a minute and twenty seconds after the rest of the body. So it was no surprise that she was not so sterling. Lucky me, I was with a team comprised of RT's, RN's. Or was I? I did not want to lose time. The heart rate was good but she was apneic. I reached for the bag. A team member's voice squeaked out, "Oh, I think we should suction and stimulate her." Huh? I said no. But she proceeded her own merry way. I held my breath and gently said, "I will do bag mask ventilation now." The baby started to breath but when she did her efforts were tremendous. She was sucking her chest in literally and breathing over 100 resps per minute. Our oxygen was up to 100% and her sats were just 84. I said, "We are intubating." The same squeaky voice piped in again, "Really?" "Maybe she'll be better with just some good CPAP." Arghhh. My eyes went heavenward. "No." "Even if her oxygen requirement were to go down but with that work of breathing, she will tire out and her lungs will be collapsed by then." I intubated the child. When I was in, the same now irritating voice said,"Are you sure you're in?" Cripes. "I can barely hear a thing." Okay, I see chest rise. I see sats going to 94 and the Fi02 down to 50. I said through gritted teeth. I am sure I am in. Thank you.

I am sure there is a lesson or two I can get from that whole experience. But right now, I can't even bring myself to reflect. I just want to ventilate. Breathe. Ohm. Ohm.