Christmas in hospital

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads...."

- opening stanzas from Twas the night before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863)

I think my body clock is finally back in GMT. In short, "twas the night before christmas" and I was at work! Even worse, they've turned our on-call room into the Matron's office so there was nowhere to lie down when I finally got a few hours' break.

You couldn't miss the fact it was christmas on the childrens' wards. Each ward had its own christmas tree, and baubles and tinsel hung from the curtain rails. The hospital porters bearing TPN and blood samples scurried about with fluffy red-and-white hats on. A felt stocking hung at the foot of each bed, often somewhat larger than its sleeping occupant. I spent about half an hour persuading *Ali, a small boy with cystic fibrosis to go to bed. "Santa only brings presents to sleeping children," said his mom, "just ask the doctor". I have a sneaking suspicion she knew Ali would take this literally.

When Ali finally succumbed, an ambulance crew arrived with *Jack, a chubby Vietnamese boy of 4 months and his parents, who spoke little English. He had been lethargic for 2 days, feeding little, and vomiting. They became alarmed when he started passing bright red blood instead of stool. His x-ray (done at the referring hospital) showed dilated bowel loops. I prescribed fluids and antibiotics while my registrar explained (tried to explain) that he would require an air enema, and if that failed would require an operation to reduce the intussusception. His parents looked horrified. "Is it something we fed him?" they asked me, after the registrar had left. (the other, unspoken question was, "help! do you speak vietnamese?") I disappointed them by replying in English, but I did explain as best I could the possible causes. Jack eventually needed a laparotomy and resection of some bowel, but he is making a good recovery.

On Christmas morning, with everything almost miraculously quiet on the baby unit (despite two ventilated premature babies with NEC), I wandered downstairs, and ran right into *Liz, an 8 year old girl with oesophageal dysmotility (and a Hickman line infection). She was wearing tinsel round her pigtails and clutching an unopened present in one hand, and a large drip stand in the other. Her face fell when she looked up to see me. "I thought it would be mom and *Rory," she said, "we always open our presents together."

I was very glad to see *Tom when he appeared at 8:30, and after handing all the patients over to him, I got on my bike and cycled home.