I was chatting with a nurse from another unit recently and she commented on something she'd witnessed in my NICU. She saw one of our travelers feeding a baby - baby seated on her knee and held a distance from the body. She thought this very odd in spite of the travel nurse's explanation: "This baby's a puker and I don't want to wear her formula."
Sounds very reasonable to me - and I often feed babies in a similar position, not always to avoid baby vomit.
Newborns, especially preemies, will generally go to sleep when held close to an adult's body. This is counterproductive when you need the baby to consume a minimum amount of expressed breast milk or formula. The solution is to hold the baby a little distance from your body so your shared warmth doesn't make him drowsy.
It takes a little time to feel comfortable holding babies this way, but it actually gives you better control over the baby's airway than traditional positioning. It also makes it easier to react to choking episodes -- or the aforementioned "puking".
The baby is seated on one of your thigh (varies with handedness of the adult, and baby's propensity to vomit) in a fairly upright position. I generally place the baby on my left thigh with my left hand behind the baby's neck. my thumb and forefinger (middle finger for big kids) are supporting the ears. Heel of hand ring and pinky fingers under the shoulders, Baby's not going anywhere, no matter how much he wiggles and my right hand is free to hold the bottle for feedings and to grab anything else I might need - burp cloth, bulb syringe, suction, etc.
Keeping the baby upright helps facilitate swallowing in sleepy babies and those who haven't entirely managed the suck-swallow-breathe maneuver. If the baby chokes or spits, it takes fractions of a second to put the bottle down and reposition the baby with his head forward and facing down over the right hand. This generally clears the airway, but if it doesn't, I can easily free a hand to grab the nearby bulb syringe or suction as needed.
When I'm burping a particularly spitty baby, I will move him to my right thigh facing away from me and leaning forward onto my right hand. This directs any vomit onto the floor instead of my clothing, making for much easier clean-up.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
I have an App for that...
I've had a computer much longer than most people. Blame that on a sister who programs microcomputers (now known as desktops and laptops). I've had one that long. Actually, I'm on computer #6, so I'm hardly a luddite.
I did resist one particular tech item for reasons I no longer remember. I have an Ipod touch. It plays music. And videos. And games. It goes everywhere with me.
It has replaced the PDA I used to carry. It has books in it - audio and text. I found a list application (Listomni) that tracks whatever I want to buy as well as books I want to read and movies I want to watch. My calendar is in there, along with my note pad. It has news from the NY times and NPR, among others. Alarm clock, calculator. On and on as I discover previously unnecessary applications that fit in my pocket.
One of the most recent is called SparkPeople. It's an application for tracking food intake and exercise - and weight loss.
I watched a friend drop more than 20 pounds by logging every bite and exercise. It wasn't easy, but she met her goal. She was doing it on paper, though. Not something I'd be able to maintain. I'd spend too much time looking for the notebook - and the calorie counter.
SparkPeople is easy. It's educational - did you know that McD's 12 ounce Mocha Frappe has 450 calories? So does the Caramel Frappe. They don't taste nearly as good once you know, do they?
It has exercise demos, along with estimates of how many calories you burn for cardio. No credit for strength-building exercises, but I can live with that. 30 minutes of mild exercise 3 times/week meets my goal - for now.
I've been using it for a month - not even all the features, just a few basic ones - and am down 6 pounds. SparkPeople is listed on the US News web site in the article "5 weight loss web sites that work"
One of the things I found most attractive was the price. Free.
I did resist one particular tech item for reasons I no longer remember. I have an Ipod touch. It plays music. And videos. And games. It goes everywhere with me.
It has replaced the PDA I used to carry. It has books in it - audio and text. I found a list application (Listomni) that tracks whatever I want to buy as well as books I want to read and movies I want to watch. My calendar is in there, along with my note pad. It has news from the NY times and NPR, among others. Alarm clock, calculator. On and on as I discover previously unnecessary applications that fit in my pocket.
One of the most recent is called SparkPeople. It's an application for tracking food intake and exercise - and weight loss.
I watched a friend drop more than 20 pounds by logging every bite and exercise. It wasn't easy, but she met her goal. She was doing it on paper, though. Not something I'd be able to maintain. I'd spend too much time looking for the notebook - and the calorie counter.
SparkPeople is easy. It's educational - did you know that McD's 12 ounce Mocha Frappe has 450 calories? So does the Caramel Frappe. They don't taste nearly as good once you know, do they?
It has exercise demos, along with estimates of how many calories you burn for cardio. No credit for strength-building exercises, but I can live with that. 30 minutes of mild exercise 3 times/week meets my goal - for now.
I've been using it for a month - not even all the features, just a few basic ones - and am down 6 pounds. SparkPeople is listed on the US News web site in the article "5 weight loss web sites that work"
One of the things I found most attractive was the price. Free.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
If you weigh more than 10 pounds......
I usually finish that with "I can't do anything for you". The weight limit is actually somewhat higher, but not much more than double unless you need an IV. I do know CPR, and I hope I'd remember how to do chest compressions with more than my thumbs should the need arise.
Years ago, when I was a fairly new nurse, I took a friend to the airport on a very hot summer day. We went to an extended parking lot and walked toward the bus which we planned to ride to the airport. As we rounded the back of the bus, we spotted the bus driver with her head on the concrete and her feet on the bottom step of the bus. I stood there with my mouth open until my friend slugged my shoulder and said, "You're a nurse, do something."
I sprung into action and determined that the bus driver was breathing and pink and, since we couldn't tell whether there were serious injuries, we shouldn't move her. Then I turned to my friend and said, "There's a radio on that bus. You're an engineer - your turn." Fortunately, the bus driver regained consciousness at that point and was able to call for assistance herself.
As I was telling this story to a friend recently, she glanced out the window of the restaurant where we were dining and noted the presence of an ambulance, commenting that she'd seen several others that day. Moments later, a contingent from the local EMS entered the restaurant and approached a nearby table where a patron was slumped over.
Yep. If you weigh more than 10 pounds, you might want to find a nurse with some actual adult experience if you're not feeling well. I can call 911 as fast as anyone, but I don't promise to notice that you're not actually napping when your eyes are closed.
Years ago, when I was a fairly new nurse, I took a friend to the airport on a very hot summer day. We went to an extended parking lot and walked toward the bus which we planned to ride to the airport. As we rounded the back of the bus, we spotted the bus driver with her head on the concrete and her feet on the bottom step of the bus. I stood there with my mouth open until my friend slugged my shoulder and said, "You're a nurse, do something."
I sprung into action and determined that the bus driver was breathing and pink and, since we couldn't tell whether there were serious injuries, we shouldn't move her. Then I turned to my friend and said, "There's a radio on that bus. You're an engineer - your turn." Fortunately, the bus driver regained consciousness at that point and was able to call for assistance herself.
As I was telling this story to a friend recently, she glanced out the window of the restaurant where we were dining and noted the presence of an ambulance, commenting that she'd seen several others that day. Moments later, a contingent from the local EMS entered the restaurant and approached a nearby table where a patron was slumped over.
Yep. If you weigh more than 10 pounds, you might want to find a nurse with some actual adult experience if you're not feeling well. I can call 911 as fast as anyone, but I don't promise to notice that you're not actually napping when your eyes are closed.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Physics lessons
One of the skills taught at the Mountain Man camp my son attended last week was the art of knife throwing. In addition to learning the proper way to throw a knife, he learned that if you don't do it quite right, the principle of equal and opposite reaction applies. Fortunately they were required to wear boots and he moves fast when faced with a rapidly returning knife. Didn't keep him from trying again until he got it right.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Summer Camp
My youngest son, a Life Scout, is heading off to BSA summer camp shortly. He's a little sad because he will again be at camp for his birthday. Only a little, because we celebrate the week before and the week after and again in August when his cousin comes to stay with us. That and he's looking forward to this particular high adventure camp. He's already completed all but one of the Eagle-required merit badges, so instead of working on traditional merit badges, he'll be living as the Mountain Men did in the 18th century. He'll learn blacksmithing, muzzle-loading riflery, wilderness survival and other useful skills. I'd predict that his favorite will the tomahawk and knife-throwing sessions, although shooting pretty much any firearm comes in a close second for him.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Watch out for the quiet ones
My mom taught 9th grade general math for many years. As a math teacher, she had her choice of positions - and schools. She chose this particular school because she felt that she could make a difference there. Her justifiably high opinion of her teaching skills was part of that equation. The support of the no-nonsense administrators was the balance. She knew that any discipline problems would be dealt with promptly and effectively -- and with as much concern for the offender as possible.
She loved the school and the kids. They were nearly all from poverty-level homes and many of them lacked basic arithmetic skills. She chose to teach each one at his or her level - everything from first grade math facts to pre-algebra. She could control a class of 30-35 kids without ever raising her voice. Her students knew that she would not hesitate to send them to the office if they defied her - but that seldom happened.
One of her more trying students pushed the limits too far, using language completely unacceptable for the classroom.
When she ordered him to the office, he looked her in the eye and cheerfully announced, "You won't say that word out loud."
He paled as she lowered her voice and responded, "That's true, but I can write anything on paper."
She loved the school and the kids. They were nearly all from poverty-level homes and many of them lacked basic arithmetic skills. She chose to teach each one at his or her level - everything from first grade math facts to pre-algebra. She could control a class of 30-35 kids without ever raising her voice. Her students knew that she would not hesitate to send them to the office if they defied her - but that seldom happened.
One of her more trying students pushed the limits too far, using language completely unacceptable for the classroom.
When she ordered him to the office, he looked her in the eye and cheerfully announced, "You won't say that word out loud."
He paled as she lowered her voice and responded, "That's true, but I can write anything on paper."
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Another quiet night in the NICU
Telephone rings. It's labor and delivery. New patient just arrived. She's 28 weeks and she's fully dilated. We remind them to turn up the thermostat in the operating room. How high? We're not sure -- just turn it up. We'll find the policy for you later. We should all know what temperature, but "imminent delivery" can make you forget all but the essential numbers. That baby's probably coming before the temperature gets into the appropriate range anyway. Tropical. Thats what we want.
We check the admission bed, call respiratory therapy to set up the ventilator and check the resuscitation equipment in the delivery area. Must be a quiet night for them. We get 3 RTs. Not complaining. Sometimes you need 3. Tonight it's a good thing to have them all.
Over we go to the delivery area. It's already 72 and the temperature is rising rapidly. I'm not on admissions, but I'm in charge and the admitting nurse can always use an extra pair of hands with a little one. We'll be doing this in the OR to accommodate the extra people and equipment. Check equipment, draw up emergency drugs, measure and cut the endotracheal tube and the feeding tube we will use to give a dose of surfactant to help the baby breathe. Waiting for the OB team to bring in the mom.
Scrub tech has finished setting up for a C-section - just in case.
OB arrives sans mom. The news gets better. Mom had an ultrasound this week. Baby isn't 28 weeks. It's 25 weeks. Call the neonatologist to come in for backup. The nurse practitioner can handle this, but it's policy. No sleep for the neonatologist if the baby is 27 weeks or under.
Mom is FINALLY (maybe 5 or 6 minutes later) in the room and on the OR table.
"Don't push. Let me check her again"
I have my back to the action, double-checking and triple checking. I hear a wet splash and turn around to see the OB and one of the labor and delivery nurses wiping amniotic fluid from their full face masks.
The OB checks the mom again. Prolapse: the umbilical cord has slipped past the baby's head and is in danger of being compressed to the point of cutting off oxygen to the baby. The external monitor is showing a heart rate that exactly matches the mother's heart rate. We hope that the baby is just too far down in the pelvis for the monitor to pick up. There is no time to check with a sono or internal monitor.
Someone asks about fetal heart rate. A voice responds, "Three minutes ago it was 150." Three minutes is an eternity. We'd like to know what the heart rate is now, but there is no more time.
There are only a very few minutes to get that baby to the relative safety of our resuscitation warmer. The room is about 75 degrees now and much hotter for the people surrounding the warmer. Makes me glad I'm just the extra pair of hands, much as my control-freak side wants to have my hands directly involved.
The OB changes gloves as the anesthesiologist "crashes" the mom -- general anesthesia is much faster than other options for emergency C-sections. As soon as the anesthesiologist indicates that the mom is ready, things really go into high gear. An incredibly long few minutes later, we hear a weak cry. At 25 weeks, it's unusual to hear a cry. With a prolapsed cord, it's even more unusual, but it means we can take our time doing what we need to stabilize the baby. It also means that there is much less to do. No drugs. No chest compressions. That weak cry is a truly beautiful sound.
The OB hands the baby to the nurse practitioner who places it in our pre-warmed bed. The baby is covered in plastic from the neck down to minimize heat loss. The baby is working very hard to breathe, so one of the respiratory therapists begins bag-mask ventilation as another hands the laryngoscope and endotracheal tube to the nurse practitioner. In goes the tube and is carefully secured once placement is verified. Too far in? adjust it a little. Breath sounds are equal now and the baby is pink. Time for the surfactant which will help keep those tiny lungs expanded and decrease the risk of damage as we breathe for the baby.
The third respiratory therapist has finished setting up the ventilator on the transport incubator. We transfer the baby into it and off we go to the NICU ripping off masks and OR caps as we exit the OR. We're all hot, but it's worth it. When we get the baby into the NICU admission bed, the temperature is well within the normal range. WIN! But it's really only the beginning. If everything goes well, this baby will be with us until at least Valentine's Day.
We check the admission bed, call respiratory therapy to set up the ventilator and check the resuscitation equipment in the delivery area. Must be a quiet night for them. We get 3 RTs. Not complaining. Sometimes you need 3. Tonight it's a good thing to have them all.
Over we go to the delivery area. It's already 72 and the temperature is rising rapidly. I'm not on admissions, but I'm in charge and the admitting nurse can always use an extra pair of hands with a little one. We'll be doing this in the OR to accommodate the extra people and equipment. Check equipment, draw up emergency drugs, measure and cut the endotracheal tube and the feeding tube we will use to give a dose of surfactant to help the baby breathe. Waiting for the OB team to bring in the mom.
Scrub tech has finished setting up for a C-section - just in case.
OB arrives sans mom. The news gets better. Mom had an ultrasound this week. Baby isn't 28 weeks. It's 25 weeks. Call the neonatologist to come in for backup. The nurse practitioner can handle this, but it's policy. No sleep for the neonatologist if the baby is 27 weeks or under.
Mom is FINALLY (maybe 5 or 6 minutes later) in the room and on the OR table.
"Don't push. Let me check her again"
I have my back to the action, double-checking and triple checking. I hear a wet splash and turn around to see the OB and one of the labor and delivery nurses wiping amniotic fluid from their full face masks.
The OB checks the mom again. Prolapse: the umbilical cord has slipped past the baby's head and is in danger of being compressed to the point of cutting off oxygen to the baby. The external monitor is showing a heart rate that exactly matches the mother's heart rate. We hope that the baby is just too far down in the pelvis for the monitor to pick up. There is no time to check with a sono or internal monitor.
Someone asks about fetal heart rate. A voice responds, "Three minutes ago it was 150." Three minutes is an eternity. We'd like to know what the heart rate is now, but there is no more time.
There are only a very few minutes to get that baby to the relative safety of our resuscitation warmer. The room is about 75 degrees now and much hotter for the people surrounding the warmer. Makes me glad I'm just the extra pair of hands, much as my control-freak side wants to have my hands directly involved.
The OB changes gloves as the anesthesiologist "crashes" the mom -- general anesthesia is much faster than other options for emergency C-sections. As soon as the anesthesiologist indicates that the mom is ready, things really go into high gear. An incredibly long few minutes later, we hear a weak cry. At 25 weeks, it's unusual to hear a cry. With a prolapsed cord, it's even more unusual, but it means we can take our time doing what we need to stabilize the baby. It also means that there is much less to do. No drugs. No chest compressions. That weak cry is a truly beautiful sound.
The OB hands the baby to the nurse practitioner who places it in our pre-warmed bed. The baby is covered in plastic from the neck down to minimize heat loss. The baby is working very hard to breathe, so one of the respiratory therapists begins bag-mask ventilation as another hands the laryngoscope and endotracheal tube to the nurse practitioner. In goes the tube and is carefully secured once placement is verified. Too far in? adjust it a little. Breath sounds are equal now and the baby is pink. Time for the surfactant which will help keep those tiny lungs expanded and decrease the risk of damage as we breathe for the baby.
The third respiratory therapist has finished setting up the ventilator on the transport incubator. We transfer the baby into it and off we go to the NICU ripping off masks and OR caps as we exit the OR. We're all hot, but it's worth it. When we get the baby into the NICU admission bed, the temperature is well within the normal range. WIN! But it's really only the beginning. If everything goes well, this baby will be with us until at least Valentine's Day.
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