Miracles

I really did not so much believe in miracles until one very, very late Christmas Eve night 12 years ago. You see I was a rational, clear-thinking, scientific kind of person (except for that weird superstitious streak when anyone said "this is going to be a really easy call night" - I KNEW that brought down the chaos). But I digress.

That Christmas Eve morning I was working in the pediatric ICU. There was no fellow so it was just me and a poor peds resident trying to care for 31 very, very, very sick patients. Not very holiday like but I had healthy children back at home waiting for Santa Claus so I absolutely had nothing to complain about. And there were many sad stories to tell that night but one was especially difficult.

A 3 year old girl had fallen between the bed and wall of her new bunk bed 3 days before Christmas, cutting off oxygen. She had had a full cardio-pulmonary arrest and was really critically ill. Her lung disease progressed until she was at the point of not being able to be oxygenated or ventilated. Her brain function deteriorated until she was near brain-death status. A horrible situation made worse as her parents made their final good-byes.

I took over her care that morning and was told that all treatments had been attempted and the family knew that it was just a matter of time until she died. I was told that I was to expect her death sometime in the next 24 hours. That was tantamount to saying "Don't spend much time at her bedside since there is nothing that you can do."

I was always one to believe in taking care of things that should be taken care of and knowing when to step back. Well that endless day, I could not seem, even with the best intentions from coming back to her bedside, altering the ventilator settings, putting in yet another chest tube for yet another pneumothorax, transfusing her when her hemoglobin dropped, and generally not "stepping back" at all. This was in the midst of taking care of all those other sick children as well. But no matter what, she seemed to be getting worse. Finally by 3 am, I was beyond exhaustion but strangely (for me) intent on saving her life. It made no sense to me then but I just could not stop. Something was pushing me beyond the limits that I had set for myself.

At 6am she seemed a little bit better but "was that my imagination?" I called my partner who was the real expert on ventilator therapy at 7am (boy was he thrilled to hear from me!) and made a few more changes. "Maybe I was making a difference", I thought. To make a long story short, she left the hospital 3.5 weeks later, looking almost like her old self. I will never know what pushed me that night, made me go against common judgment, but for me she will forever be my first "miracle.