Sophie took advantage of the lull in Kim’s busy day. Kim was
stocking Danny’s incubator with his mini little preemie diapers.
“Kim, I just want to tell you how much Adam and I appreci
ate the care you give to Danny. There is nothing more a mother
could ask than for her child to be cared for as kindly and lovingly
as you do. Thank you so much.”
“Oh gosh, Sophie, you don’t need to thank me!” Kim put an
arm around Sophie. “We are in this together. It’s my privilege to
protect and care for all these munchkins.” Then she lowered her
voice. “And to be totally honest, Danny’s my favorite. Probably
because you and Adam are such amazing parents.”
Sophie rested her hands on Danny’s incubator and looked in
at her son. “Thanks, we’re trying.” After a minute, she remem
bered what she wanted to talk to Kim about. “Hey, Kim, can I ask
you something?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Do you carry Danny’s medication vials in your pocket all
day? Or do you put them back in the medication room once
you’ve given him what he needs?”
“That’s a strange question.”
“This is a strange place,” Sophie joked.
Kim laughed. “It depends on the med. Some meds need to
be refrigerated, so those I don’t keep with me. Others need to
be locked up, and obviously I don’t keep those either. But a lot
of the drugs we use for preemies, we give in their IV, and you’re
102
JULIE HATCH
right. They come in little single-dose vials that we can carry with
us. It would be a huge waste of time to always be going back and
forth to the med room to grab a dose of, say, Lasix or caffeine. A
lot of babies are on those meds, so yeah, to answer your question,
we carry around some meds, or we leave them at the cribside in
the medication container. At the end of the shift, we put back
what we don’t use.”
“Do you think the doctors and nurses in triage do the same
thing?”
“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? I’ve got to get back to
work. But, yes, I know that Suzanne carries around the common
meds she uses in triage, the same way we do here. It’s just more
efficient that way.”
Sophie sat next to Danny, texting one of her friends from work.
Then that screeching alarm went off. She looked up to see
where it was coming from, which baby needed help to bring their
heart rate back up. With horror, she realized that the alarm was
coming from Danny. Sophie shot out of her chair to look inside
his incubator. She watched the color in his face change from pale
pink to pale to a mottled blue. She screamed.
“Help! Kim! Somebody come over here!” she yelled. “There’s
something wrong with Danny!”
Sophie watched her son turn a darker shade of blue as he
struggled to breathe. His heart rate dropped to eighty, to sixty, to
thirty in a matter of seconds.
“Danny!” she yelled, giving him a firm pat on the back.
“Danny! Wake up!” The sound of his heart monitor beat agoniz
ingly slow. The alarm wouldn’t shut up.
Two nurses ran over—one hit the red code button on the
wall and yelled into the intercom, “Dr. Morrison to C bay,
stat!” The second nurse put the preemie-sized resuscitation bag
and mask over Danny’s face and gave him slow, deep breaths.
103
THE VERY BEST OF CARE
Sophie followed the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest with
each manual breath the nurse pumped into his lungs. When she
looked up, a doctor, a third nurse, and two respiratory therapists
were busy working to stabilize Danny.
Sophie was squeezed out of the way and had to stand on her
tiptoes to see her son. She desperately wanted to touch him,
to let him know his mommy was here for him. That she would
keep him safe. She watched from what seemed like the end of
a tunnel. It was that slow, drawn-out passing of time that she’d
experienced before, like everything was happening to someone
else. Sophie didn’t understand all the medical jargon. She just
knew that she was terrified for her little Danny.
In under three minutes, Danny was intubated and back on a
ventilator. Almost immediately, his heart rate rose to a more sta
ble rate of 150. In five minutes, blood tests were drawn and sent
to the lab, and an IV had been placed in his right hand.
Fifteen minutes later, Danny was settled. Color had returned
to his face, and his heart rate and blood pressure were back to
normal. The ventilator was breathing for him. If it hadn’t been
so frightening, Sophie would have called what she’d just seen a
well-choreographed dance. She called Adam, hanging up before
his voicemail kicked in.
The team of lifesavers dispersed to return to their own NICU
patients. One of the doctors came over to reassure Sophie. She
introduced herself as Dr. Morrison, one of the neonatologists,
and explained that Danny had just gotten tired. He needed a
break from working so hard to stay alive.
“Eating and breathing are tough work for these little guys.”
She put her arm around Sophie’s slumped shoulders. “We’re
going to help him out, take the effort out of breathing, and give
him a break from eating. He’ll get his nutrition through his IV for
the next few days. We’re running some tests to make sure there
104
JULIE HATCH
wasn’t something else we might be missing, like a problem with
his heart or an infection.”
Sophie looked up at her. “An infection? What kind of infec
tion? How could he get an infection in here?”
“Don’t worry. He’s on antibiotics just in case. I really think
Danny will be back on the mend in just a day or two.”
Sophie broke down crying, from the stress of watching what
had just happened and from the relief now that it was over. She
was so grateful to Danny’s team. He couldn’t survive without
them.
Then that nagging feeling surfaced again: Maybe he would still
be inside of me if something hadn’t gone wrong in triage. She shut
that thought right down, telling herself now was not the time to
go there.
She thanked Dr. Morrison, sat down next to Danny’s incu
bator, and pulled out her cell phone. She called Adam again. He
wasn’t picking up. Where the hell was he
