Thursday, August 6, 2009

Cost To Operate Servers

... Without words ....

I do not know how many times I tried to start this post. I started yesterday, when it all happened, but I could not write more than two lines.


Wednesday, August 5, 2009 For the first time I'm in serious trouble .... I feel the need to write but I can not find the serenity to do the job .... the fact is that I need to talk more but I am in a position in its Adriano Celentano "Azzurro".

Be still work with the doctor or health of others leads you to be part of people's lives more than, I think, can happen to people or non-medical health workers ... and when I talk about life I talk about all aspects including that of death.

Today I had my first confrontation with death in this new reality that I am living.
is not the first and certainly will not be the last but I do not think I'll ever get used to ... no different from a death or a major or minor gods, but another to believe a child is always a special case.

.... emergency Caesarean section .... the gynecologist calls everyone to gather as usual ... thing different this time is that we already know that is not the picture of the mother to worry about but the child ... The small is pulled out at 14:45 .... from behind the masks we can only look in the eyes and the look that we shared with the matron was to a silent alarm, it soon becomes clear that there is more than one thing wrong. Solita
procedure ... suction, stimulation ... nothing ... the baby has aspirated meconium is not known how long is a moment ... was intubated and we start with cardiopulmonary resuscitation. In a moment all the operating room was close to the cradle. To my right the matron, to my left a fellow with the ambulatory and in front of me the anesthesiologist. All this took place without a voice out of place, always in a low voice ... could you whisper with the certainty of being heard. In all that I never looked away from what I was doing, except to look at the monitor trying desperately something that moved in that damn screen, but I felt a score of eyes on him ... The surgical area
live a life apart from the rest of the hospital ... When you enter you are always surrounded by people harnessed at all points including mask and truly apart from someone, I would have a hard time recognizing who is in quirofano when it is dressed in "civilian" and then everyone around me, apart from the gynecologist and the matron were total strangers.
As time passes I feel myself growing in a profound sense of inadequacy and impotence ... we all know that by law a Resuscitation should proceed for at least 30 minutes ... 45 minutes have passed and I no longer feel his arms and so I think my colleague that the little fan ... keep silent ... at some point I look up and match that of the gynecologist ... silence in me is saying "enough !"..... are 15 and 45 minutes.
Outside the operating room waiting for us the father of the child ... And 'the gynecologist to talk calmly and an infinite delicacy, and had already prepared for a difficult situation because the lady had come to the emergency room with complications already in progress but the look of that Pope seeks answers that none of us could give. .. All the talk took place in a low voice ... and pain that radiated from eyes was a pain and full of quiet dignity ....
We take leave in silence and everyone gets his way ...
At half past five I decide that is enough for today .... Pass by the reception and greet the girls as usual ... already know all that happened and the time greeting is barely ... When I feel I am going to call out "Doctor .... desculpe !".... It 's the father of the little that has not had time to see the light ... Approaches me asking if his wife had already left the operating room, but I think it was just an excuse ... Question had not changed the look I had changed the awareness of what had happened ....
We talked almost an hour in a tight English him in a somewhat more broken my ...
We talked about the causes, of opportunity and what is done with a fast-paced question and answer that I could not always respond in a convincing manner and the rest I do not think there is a definitive answer on "why" a child there and more ...
We take leave ... shakes my hand vigorously and thanked with a "gracias" that has nothing formal ....
I find myself immediately to reflect the fact that in reality i am having to thank the father of a son never lived, for the lesson of dignity that you gave me ....

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