Page 34 of The Doctors Will See You Now

The instant my fingers reached her cervix, I knew what the issue was. Not only was Carmen six centimeters dilated with ruptured membranes, but she also had a prolapsed cord. Which was the exact opposite of a good situation. A very, very bad situation, actually. Prolapsed cords were fairly rare, but when they occurred, delivery had to be straightaway. And in Carmen’s case, since she wasn’t fully dilated, it most likely meant an emergency C-section.

It was at that moment that Dr. Cummings stepped inside the room. “Everything okay?”

“She’s six centimeters. Gestation is unknown, but patient believes she’s around eight months. Her water broke about forty-five seconds ago. And now, we have a prolapsed cord. I’m holding the baby’s head above it. Fetal heart tones were fifty but have stabilized a little at 110 with the baby’s head off the cord.”

Will immediately peeked his head back out of the room and instructed the triage receptionist to notify the OR and neonatal team. “You know it’s for sure the baby’s head and not breech?” he asked and immediately shrugged out of his white exam coat and started donning OR gear.

“Yeah, I can feel fontanels.”

“Is everything okay? Is my baby okay?” Carmen asked, her accent thicker with distress, and my eyes glanced toward the continuous fetal heart monitor noting that even with baby’s head off the cord, the heart rate was continuing to dip below one hundred at times.

“Carmen, I’m Dr. Cummings,” he introduced. “We have a bit of an emergency right now. The baby’s head is on the umbilical cord, and we need to get the baby out as soon as possible. We’re going to take you back to do an emergency C-section.”

Her eyes went wide. “Pero…Right now?”

“Yes,” he responded. “But I promise you I’m going to take very good care of your baby.” His eyes met mine, and he nodded for me to get comfortable on the bed. “Ready to ride, Mel?”

“Let’s do it,” I said and pulled my legs onto the bed—with my hand still securely keeping Carmen’s baby’s head off its umbilical card—as Will pushed us out.

“Think your hand can hold up until we’re scrubbed in and I can get the baby out?” he questioned as he pushed the bed down the hall and toward the obstetric ORs.

“Yep. I’ll be fine.” Luckily, it wasn’t my first prolapsed cord experience.

Carmen’s eyes met mine, and I could see the sheer terror of being a powerless mother in her gaze.

“Carmen, you’re in good hands, okay? All you need to do is stay calm and keep taking those deep breaths like you have been. You’re doing great.”

“Okay,” she whispered, and one lone tear started to drip from the corner of her eye.

“Did you come to the hospital by yourself?” I asked as the bed made its way to the OR doors and OR staff members started to help us suit up before heading in. A mask was placed across my face and a scrub cap over my hair.

She nodded as an OR nurse placed a surgical cap over her hair.

“Is there anyone we can call to come to the hospital?”

She shook her head, and a few more tears dripped down her cheeks. “My husband is at work and doesn’t have a cell phone.”

“It’s okay, Carmen,” I reassured again as OR staff helped moved both Carmen and me onto the sterile and draped surgical table. “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Miguel.”

“And where does he work?”

“A construcción company.”

“Do you know which one?”

“Phillips and Neiman.”

I glanced over my shoulder and met the gaze of who I thought was the circulating nurse. “Can you do me a favor and call out to triage? Ask them to find the number to Phillips and Neiman construction company and see if they can get in touch with her husband.”

“Sure thing,” she responded. “What’s her husband’s name?”

“Miguel Dominguez.”

“Did we get fetal heart tones?” Will asked as he moved toward the OR table.

“Yes,” one nurse responded. “Tones were one hundred.”