It was ten plus when we were updated that a ventilator has been secured at said private hospital, preparation was in progress to receive baby Ning. The pediatrician and her nurses started pacing around making preparations of their own, reports, diagnostics, equipment, mobile incubator for the transfer, ambulance service and most important of all, to intubate baby Ning. It was much later that I realized what this intubation process meant, and it scarred me deeply realizing she went through that.
Side story: It was much later that we learnt from the pediatrician that the intubation process did take longer than expected as baby Ning was resisting it, even after putting her on sleep medication. Under normal circumstances, the given dosage would result any babies falling into a motionless deep sleep but not for baby Ning. Eventually, they had to increase the dosage to subdue her - what a girl!
I prepped myself after deciding to travel with the pediatrician via the ambulance, that way, I am aware of the unfolding events and decisions can be made instantaneously, as and when required. Though the air was tense, can't be helped that there's a tinge of excitement for my first ambulance experience. Once intubated, the pediatrician had to manually work on a manual oxygen pump for baby Ning, all the while still belting instructions to the rest. 'Now, we wait', as she pumped the night away.
It was slightly passed midnight when we finally received the much anticipated call and everyone was in motion, baby Ning was placed into the mobile incubator and wheeled to the ambulance via A&E department. My heart started pacing rapidly, unaware of what's to come once I leave this familiar ground, and I'll be on my own. 'Will keep you updated, try get some rest and don't over think stuff', I said as I bid the wife farewell and rushed over. I hopped on to my designated passenger seat, as the pediatrician and nurses secured baby Ning at the back.
The sirens blared, then tuned down a little, as the journey to the private hospital began. I could only steal a couple of glances to the back along the way, where the pediatrician was still hard at work pumping oxygen for baby Ning. It was a smooth ride as the streets were empty and during such critical times, I realized how riddled with potholes our road conditions were, with each bump, I worried for baby's well being.
Upon arrival at the other A&E, joined by a team of nurses, we were guided through a maze of doors and lifts, eventually arriving at our destination, Isolated Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). These were uncharted territories for myself, as I was pretty familiar with the other areas such as the lobby, rooms (and suites) and common areas - not that I'm proud of it though, no one in their right minds would like to frequent a hospital. As everyone else entered the room 2, I was made to wait outside, an instruction that I'm starting to get used to.
The time was one plus in the morning, as I drop the wife an update. Where I am, between myself and room 2 was a solid wooden door, obscuring myself from any view of baby Ning. Hints of the current situation were only available via the commotion of movements and discussions, and beeping of machines. It was almost half an hour later that the pediatrician exited the room with her team. 'She'll be in good hands now, the PD here is renowned for his expertise in pediatric care'. Then she added, 'Try not to worry too much on the costs for now, baby's recovery should be of upmost importance. I know that it'll be costly here, but you're still young, what's spent can be recovered in time', as she tapped my shoulder as encouragement. 'We're making a move, the nurses shall be with you shortly'. And they left.
It was another ten to fifteen minutes when a nurse exited room 2. 'Okay, daddy can proceed with her admission first, these are the forms, head down to the reception of A&E on ground floor from the lifts there. Once done, come back here'. Okay, auto pilot mode, ON. The journey was straight forward but the registration took a while, surprisingly, even at such odd hours, there were quite a number of ongoing admissions as the staff of duty chattered. Deposit was five thousand ringgit, pretty steep compared to just a thousand and five at the other hospital - it's at these moment when you're thankful for the existence of credit cards. Makes me wonder how things used to be, am I to scour around for cash to complete admission at such ungodly hours?
The return to NICU was a complex journey as I wasn't allowed to use the previous route, which was meant only for emergency cases. After much trial and error, I was standing outside the NICU department, denied entry as the PD and nurses were performing procedures on baby Ning. The current spot was much better, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the ongoing situation though hardly able to make out anything, just individual hard at work.
It was roughly around two plus in the morning when I was finally allowed to enter, standing between myself and baby Ning was the PD, who started overwhelming me on status riddled with medical terms. He was stern, direct, speaks fast and my first impression of him was uncompromising, uneasy to approach. Not exactly the perceived characteristics of a pediatrician I had in mind. Post briefing, I inquired if I could stay beside baby Ning and he replied, 'No point of you staying here, there's nothing you can do, just go home and rest'. No sugar coating, no word play, just in your face response. 'Any questions?', he muttered. I shook my head, he nodded and departed.
The nurse was more comforting, informing me there's no place to properly rest within NICU as well, she could arrange a room if I insist on staying here (chargeable of course) but it's better to rest properly and come back tomorrow, as visiting time in NICU is quite flexible. I nodded, thanked her and informed her I will stay a while then head off. 'Okay, just let me know once you're leaving, I'm on duty and will be nearby'. As I drew closer to baby Ning, the vision that dawned upon me was one I was unprepared - I tightened my fists, took deep breaths and eventually held my composure.
A ventilator tube was secured to her mouth, both her hands were bound, on one hand to hold the inlet for IV drips, the other for medication purposes, her left leg bound with sensors, and multiple sensory patches on her abdomen. I was confused. This certainly doesn't look like a mild or non-critical condition as I was advised earlier, I mean, this is the Intensive Care Unit and the only times I've seen level of attachments to a patient, were during movies or dramas. I felt hopeless, all I was to offer then were words of encouragement and prayers to baby Ning.
Then, I bid the nurse farewell and stepped out of the NICU.
2.45 a.m.
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