Bryson City Seasons: More Tales of a Doctors Practice in the Smoky Mountains by Walt Larimore MD

Author:Walt Larimore, MD
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Array
Publisher: Zondervan

chapter twenty-one

THE LITTLEST CHEROKEE

The heart rate dropped, as did my hope of saving this baby. Mrs. Black Fox’s haunting chants only increased my anxiety as the sweat ran profusely down my brow. Louise dabbed my brow as I helped Sylvia onto her back.

The side-lying position had failed. Now I had no choice. I had to try to push the baby’s head back up the birth canal. I had never done this before, and I’d only seen it done once by one of my senior residents while on an obstetrics rotation at Charity Hospital in New Orleans during my medical school days. By pushing the head back into the birth canal, it would make the baby easier to remove with an emergency Cesarean birth.

Please hurry, Mitch! I thought.

Maxine quickly entered the room. “Mitch is coming! I’ve got the other nurses setting up the OR. Are you ready to transport her to the operating room?”

“Give me a minute, Maxine.” I turned back to my patient. “Sylvia, your baby is stuck and isn’t coming out. I’m going to try to push the baby’s head back into the birth canal, and then we’re going to rush you to the operating room for a C-section. We have to operate to save your baby!”

Sylvia nodded and then began weeping. Her great-grandmother’s chanting only increased in volume—as did my sweating and heart rate.

I slowly flexed the baby’s head and was surprised at how easily the head actually slid back into the birth canal. I was just getting ready to ask Maxine to help me transport Sylvia to the surgical suite when Dr. Mitchell burst through the door. Although it was obvious from the sweat on his brow and his mussed-up hair that he had rushed here from bed, his demeanor, as always, was calm and unruffled.

To my utter surprise, he began to gown and glove. I walked over to him and leaned toward him. “Mitch, what are you doing? We’re getting ready to move her to OR for a stat C-section.”

Mitch looked at the patient and then turned his back to her. Leaning toward me, he whispered, “Walt, our anesthetists are both snowed in and can’t get here. County crews won’t be able to get Kim, who’s the closest, here for at least an hour. Bacon’s out of town, and other than me and our anesthetists, he’s the only one who can administer anesthesia. I’m going to have to show you an old-fashioned and very primitive way to get this baby out. Just go with me on this one, okay?”

I was shocked at what he had just told me and began to feel nauseous. I had never had a baby under my care die before. Although I had no idea what he had in mind, I had no choice but to trust him.

We both turned toward the baby. “Louise,” Mitch commanded, “hand Walt a Foley catheter; Maxine, get me a disposable scalpel with a #15 blade, will you?”

When Louise handed me the catheter, I gently slid it up the urethra and into the bladder.

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