I remember that night. It was a little chilly indoors, snow was falling outside. You’d have thought with the amount of money that hospitals bring in, they could at least afford a quality heating system.
There was a strange scent, not unlike the smell of under-bathed patients, but this was different.
You ever stood in a cadaver theater? You know, the kind where the body is out to display the various hidden viscera? Strange place, if the world decided to hide away the macabre beneath a layer of flesh, I’d be all the happier with keeping it there.
Though the creeping mystery of what lies beneath always got to me. Guess you could say that it was that night. The one I discovered what really happens to bodies.
A patient came in, obtunded, no signs of breathing, pulse was weak and thready. An obvious emergency.
Within the next few minutes, they became the star of the show. Resuscitation efforts lasted an hour, you could see the draining hope on the faces of my coworkers as the realization of this man’s death was sealed before he was brought in.
The doctor ordered one last round of epinephrine, and with the final pulse check, he said his verdict.
“Time of death, 0247”
The few nurses looked to each other with knowing, charge quickly whisked away from the room. Like a well oiled machine, the various staff cleaned and prepared the body.
No signs of identification, invasive efforts left in place, disconnecting the various monitors, pumps, and shutting off the Zoll.
Despite his tragic demise, our staff was taught to handle bodies with care. Humanity was something that never left a patient, even after death.
The warmth drains from their body, skin pales, muscles relax, brain slows to a halt. Nothing in this person would suggest life, and yet he never cooled, never paled.
Ten minutes had passed, I chose to remain with the patient. This late at night was usually the time that newcomers would ebb out. Couldn’t have a complaint if you’re asleep, right?
Well, this patient would be the last of the night.
I looked to the primary nurse, she had decided to take lead on preparing post-mortem care. She was diligent in her work, I was only able to follow so briefly behind her.
See I wasn’t much for that stuff. I enjoyed the fast paced express care. Nose swab, drop a pipe, give fluids and send home. The simple stuff. I was good at it, but when it came to complex issues, ethical matters, I would fall so far behind.
The room was just the three of us. She broached the idea.
“He hasn’t cooled off yet. Can you grab a temperature?”
I obliged, scoffing at the notion. Sure enough though, he was running hot.
Puzzled, she called in the doctor. He had already spent the last half hour contacting family and writing his notes on the patient.
He entered the room, half disgusted, half tired from the long shift.
We approached him with the news and his eyes widened. He left the room in a hurry.
Safe to say that the whole situation kept us puzzled. What was happening with this patient, what did the doctor know?
Before I could finish any meaningful theory, he came back to the room with an ultrasound cart.
He stared daggers into the primary nurse and I, “Expose the patient, I need to see something.”
We pulled away the patient’s gown, I started with exasperation, “What are you on about?”
The provider didn’t acknowledge me. He was too invested with the patient. As he sprayed the jelly along the patient’s chest, a subtle cracking arose from him, like his skin was cracking from the jelly.
He then applied the probe to the patient, refusing to touch the body with anything but the probe. What he found beneath was a shimmering, pulsating mass. Nondescript, only so much an ultrasound can see.
The primary nurse looked on in terror, “What is that?!”
The provider removed the probe and spoke in a hushed tone, “The patient isn’t dead, it hasn’t been born yet.”
The primary nurse looked on, expressionless, disbelief slowly painting her face as the silent moments grew on. I looked between her and the doctor and the only idea I could muster slipped from my lips, “Are you suggesting we perform a C-section?”
The provider nodded, he turned to us and with urgency and ushered us into action, “We have five minutes to deliver, contact birthplace, let them know they are getting a new admit.”
What happened next was a flurry of bodies, all walks of medical experience came in and out of that room yet none could define this experience with any reasonable certainty that what we were trying to save was a neonate.
Monitors were reattached to the deceased patient, I had taken to establishing a sterile field with the provider. Within minutes we started the procedure, an emergency and arguably dirty cesarean section of a deceased male patient’s chest.
I was awe struck when we finally delivered it, a small, placenta wrapped neonate rustling beneath its amniotic sac. To this day, I cannot explain how this happened. On February 17th of 2022, we delivered a healthy baby girl named ‘Cindy’.
She was placed under state protection, our social workers continued to provide any outside resources and get in contact with extended family, but it appears as though she was the last of her line.
Last week I brought her home, I applied for adoption and was approved within short order. I was worried at first, her checkups came back normal, she has a pediatrician, and my work is offering me maternity leave so we could get settled.
It’s 9:46 p.m. of February 26th. I can’t find her, and I’m starting to feel an intense, writhing pressure within my chest.
More: I’m a Rural ER Nurse, I should have never adopted my patient. Here’s an interesting article from https://reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1swmmof/im_a_rural_er_nurse_i_should_have_never_adopted/: I remember that night. It was a little chilly indoors, snow was falling outside. You’d have thought with the amount of money that hospitals bring in, they could at least afford a quality heating system. There was a strange scent, not unlike the smell of under-bathed patients, but this was different. You ever stood Continue here: I’m a Rural ER Nurse, I should have never adopted my patient.