I started replaying Luka's NICU stay in my head recently because the hospital sent us a survey in the mail about our experience. The multiple choice questions didn't really do a good job explaining our story. First, let me say that the amazing staff at Northside's NICU saved our kid's life. That's the most important thing, no matter what happened in between the time Luka was admitted and when he was discharged. But the stuff sandwiched in the middle of that time was still interesting, frustrating, good, bad, and kinda weird.
For the first ten days, the kid was staying in the 2nd floor special care nursery. The 2nd floor is for the sicker babies, who need more than just typical preemie care. Most of the staff on the 2nd floor was drinking grumpy juice, I think. At each visit we would go to the reception desk to check in. They would check our wristbands (only immediate family is allowed), and I would tell them if I had pumped milk to deposit. They would buzz us in, and bring a key to unlock the milk fridge. Nine times out of ten, the person working this desk was unresponsive, lacked eye contact, and generally hated our existence. So annoying. Excuse us for wanting to visit our critically ill newborn! Once we dropped off milk, we would head to Luka's pod, wash our hands at the sink, and check in with the nurse. Each shift was a different nurse, so we met someone new just about every time we came. I wish that they wouldn't have rotated the staff so much, so we could get used to who was taking care of him, but I'm sure they have a reason for switching them out so often. They worked 12 hour shifts, so maybe that had something to do with it. Anyway, the nurse would fill us in on what had happened since we had been there last. Did they raise or lower his oxygen and by how much? What tests were run? Did he need another blood transfusion? When will they start to wean him off of the sedatives? From there, we would go standby his bed and look at him. As you probably remember, we weren't allowed to really touch him for the first week. This was because of his hypertension in the lungs. If he heard us or felt us, he might get too excited and then his blood pressure would go up. So we would just stand there and look at him.
Some of Luka's nurses were very kind, patient, explained things well, and seemed empathetic (big ups Debbie, Maggie, and the nice lady whose name I don't remember!). Others were curt, bossy, and had no time for us (we shant name names). The rude, bossy nurses sure had a way of ruining our visits. I know they're just people, but damn. They're working with the parents of sick kids. Cut us a little slack, eh? One shitty nurse in particular loved to boss us around. All of the nurses allowed us to help change Luka's diaper when we were there, so Ken and I were changing a diaper. Ken was on one side holding his legs, while I did the wiping and diaper switch. We got yelled at. "Only one person for a diaper change!" Why? This had to have been her personal preference, because other nurses allowed us to both do this. What the hell does it matter? Then she told us that we could wipe his mouth with this sterile water that comes in a bottle. (His mouth got foamy from the feeding tube and oxygen.) So I take a little cloth wipe, and dip the end into the bottle. She got all sideways with me for ruining the water bottle, as apparently I was supposed to pour the water on the wipe, not dip the wipe into the bottle. Then she made a big production about throwing the full bottle of water away in front of me because it was tainted. Jesus, man. Can you give the parents a little break, here? Our kid is sick, I'm hormonal from giving birth, and so on. My standard was to cry when we visited, so I cried. She said in a curt tone: "Mom, your tears are getting to me, so I'm going to let you hold him."
So we held him. The only redeeming thing this lady did. Besides taking care of our son's medical needs for 12 hours, of course.
One of the 2nd floor nurses we simply call "Crazy Nurse". We show up one night to visit Luka, and meet the nurse on duty. We never got her name, but she proceeded to talk our ears off about herself and various other dumb things. "I like your tattoos! I have one!" Stuff like that. When we were politely trying to pull away to go visit the kid, she didn't get the hint. But we thought, hey, at least she's nice and not shitty. Well, Ken showed up the next morning at the end of her shift, and she was like a different person. She snubbed him, gave him full-on attitude. Luka's nasal cannula was coming loose, and Ken asked her if she could tighten it. She told him that she was about to be off work. Oh, sorry. It's only his OXYGEN.
When the kid was moved up the 7th floor, the staff was way better overall. Except for that one receptionist that made a comment about the amount of breast milk I was dropping off. "You need to make more than that." Oh, really? Yes, let's make me feel worse about my small milk production. That's a good idea. Like I was trying to hold out on the kid or something. Then she told me to drink more water. Everyone at Northside is convinced that the key to milk production is simply drinking more water. I'm sure it does help, but I'm drinking water, damnit. Anyway. The 7th floor nurses were mostly much better. One night we showed up and Luka was propped up in his Boppy pillow, with a little faux hawk. It was hilarious. Then we see who's sitting there doing his charts. Crazy Nurse! Aaaahhhh! Oh no!
Ken feeding a little faux hawked Luka.
She was babbling on about whatever, asked me if I was "still weepy" (poking fun at me for crying about my sick child on the 2nd floor. Nice.), then she took off to tend to another crying baby. She came back a little later with that other baby in one hand, completely taken off of her wires and such. She as waving the baby around like it was a puppet or something. I shudder to think what kind of wild ride Luka was on with her when we weren't there. I do know we showed up the next morning, and Luka's shirt was covered in dried spit up because Crazy hadn't bothered to clean him or tend to him after a certain point in her night. Ken and I picture her talking on a telephone that's actually a banana. Bat Shit Crazy.
With that one exception, the nurses on the 7th floor were good about educating us on various baby things. That was nice. It was like having a two week training class for taking care of a baby. We learned different ways to burp him and swaddle him. Man, NICU nurses do the best swaddling. Nice and tight, like a baby cocoon. We were required to take an infant CPR class before we cold take him home, so that was helpful, too.
This is getting too long. Maybe I should do another "to be continued". I dunno if this is too boring for y'all. I just kind of wanted it for myself later, so I don't forget the experience.
