The case of the lovable Midget

"I've fallen in love with a cutie, who is boy who is soft, cute, loves to cuddle and also smells like milk," I told a friend of mine one day.

I added, "He's also just about 2 feet tall and has no mummy and daddy here..."

"He has dwarfism?" he asked.

No,no no, I laughed. I hadn't fallen in love with a touchy-feely midget, I said, he was a patient who had been admitted while I was on-duty that night.

I was manning the hospital and in a came a worried grandmother who said that her grandson was coughing so hard and that they hadn't had any sleep because of it. And so I walk over to see the patient better and try to examine him more fully.

Now, being me, I know I have a weakness for  babies/infants/toddlers...kids in general who were in distress. I don't know, but it's just an emotional thing. I suppose it's something of a maternal instinct that I've always had whenever I'm face to face with a pediatric patient (preferably under 2 feet tall,haha).

My little patient was perfectly still, looking at me with big, innocent baby eyes, well-behaved and calm. The only bit of difficulty that was visible was his fast breathing and almost imperceptible flaring of his little (itty-bitty) nostrils. His cherubic curls and seemingly silent plea for relief, he had me. I had fallen in love.

Before I signed out of duty a few hours after, I saw him outdoors in the shade, catching a little sun with his nannies (his parents weren't there), who were taking turns holding his IV bottle raised over their head. He still had a pretty bad cough and I almost worried a little about how I managed him, wondering whether I made a mistake, or missed something.

I was thinking about his case up until I got home, and then later, I worried about the little tot.

I looked forward to checking his progress when I got back to the hospital for another tour of duty 2 days after. I was still deep in thought that I almost stumbled upon something that blocked walked in my path when I entered the hospital doors.  It was my two foot tall little man. 

He walked up to me, stopped for a while, looked in my face with his cute baby eyes and then walked away. I chuckled. He was better, after all, no hint of difficulty or distress, looking very adorable in his baby-sized New York Knicks jersey with "SPREWELL" across the back, walking like a dignified little man, except for, well, of course, the fact that he only had diapers underneath it.

One time, when I was making rounds, I spied him toddling about the space where he was undergoing nebulization, holding the mask to his face, all by himself. He had his nannies standing by, of course, but basically, he was holding the thing on his own, looking at this and that, stopping here and there. 

I thought it was cute so I walked over and tried to take a picture of him using my camera phone. He edged closer to me, and then would stop, and then would take another step closer and then would stop, until finally, he handed over the mask to his nanny and sat on my lap and "posed", like he wanted to have our picture taken.

Haha. It tugged at my hearstrings. That was just funny. 

On lighter, less busy times, I'd go over to his room and check on him and his progress. He'd have me carry him, and would just lean on me, playing with my bead bracelet of many colors (which I sometimes use to purposely distract kids when I'm examining them) while I sat him down on my lap when I took a break. 

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For a while, I had entertained going into pediatrics as a specialty choice, what with my natural preference for kids and what not. (and that  kids  and their worried parents were always going to need doctors, haha). However, in recent times, I had some epiphanies about it, and I decided against it. As advised, it wasn't that good to go into something you're going to become overly emotional about.  That doesn't change the fact that I love babies and kids, though (heck, I'm having 4 of my own in the future!).

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By the way, "Sprewell" got discharged well and improved, but I didn't get to say goodbye, because I was busy delivering a baby in the delivery room that time...I have a picture of me and him, though, so it was just as well.  As much as I like him, I hope I won't be seeing him in my hospital again. 

No to stress for little kids! :-)

~ yours,

S.