It was close to midnight as I ran down the hospital corridor to the labor ward where Julia Ngamo lay struggling to deliver her firstborn.
I scrubbed up carefully and clothed in a green gown entered the room. It smelled. Dettol, sweat and anaesthetic. My victim lat before me on the delivery couch emitting a soft groan as the labor pains hit. Two green gowned medical students were already there. One tall, the other short and bespectacled and to my dismay the oficious maternity nurse who called me mister even though as a proud young intern I deserved at least the title, doctor. She was big and fat her hair hidden by a paper cap that looked like she belonged in the hspital canteen instead of the labor ward.
I approach the table where Julia lay, carefully palpating her abdomen I raised my eyes and spoke to the waiting interns.
"The head's up here," I said pointing at the upper abdomen. They both nodded and the taller one said;
"A breech, do you think?"
"Definitely a breech" I said palpating the lower part of her belly where, between the contractions that were increasing in frequency, I felt what I was sure was a baby bottom.
"Come,come, mister, lets get on with it," nurse Marais insisted wheeling a bowl of cloudy white warm water closer to our patient and raising her legs so we could examine her. Using as far as possible the most sterile of precautions first Marais and then mister--ie myself, examined the patient internally.
"She's four fingers dilated," Marais concluded.
"I would say three," I suggested, but she brushed my objections aside and proceeded with the delivery. "Push,Julia" she commanded.
"We'll wait for the next contraction please, nurse," I said remembering all the lessons our professor of O and G had given us.
"Next time you get a pain, just push," I told Julia thinking I might be wrong about how far she was dilated and this slight delay might help. No use pushing against the cervix when it is not dilated yet--that could be fatal.
This pushing and stopping continued for another twenty minutes and then the baby appeared. A smallish head covered in black curly hair.
"You were wrong," mister, nurse Marais turned her popeyes in my direction and I knew she was
I scrubbed up carefully and clothed in a green gown entered the room. It smelled. Dettol, sweat and anaesthetic. My victim lat before me on the delivery couch emitting a soft groan as the labor pains hit. Two green gowned medical students were already there. One tall, the other short and bespectacled and to my dismay the oficious maternity nurse who called me mister even though as a proud young intern I deserved at least the title, doctor. She was big and fat her hair hidden by a paper cap that looked like she belonged in the hspital canteen instead of the labor ward.
I approach the table where Julia lay, carefully palpating her abdomen I raised my eyes and spoke to the waiting interns.
"The head's up here," I said pointing at the upper abdomen. They both nodded and the taller one said;
"A breech, do you think?"
"Definitely a breech" I said palpating the lower part of her belly where, between the contractions that were increasing in frequency, I felt what I was sure was a baby bottom.
"Come,come, mister, lets get on with it," nurse Marais insisted wheeling a bowl of cloudy white warm water closer to our patient and raising her legs so we could examine her. Using as far as possible the most sterile of precautions first Marais and then mister--ie myself, examined the patient internally.
"She's four fingers dilated," Marais concluded.
"I would say three," I suggested, but she brushed my objections aside and proceeded with the delivery. "Push,Julia" she commanded.
"We'll wait for the next contraction please, nurse," I said remembering all the lessons our professor of O and G had given us.
"Next time you get a pain, just push," I told Julia thinking I might be wrong about how far she was dilated and this slight delay might help. No use pushing against the cervix when it is not dilated yet--that could be fatal.
This pushing and stopping continued for another twenty minutes and then the baby appeared. A smallish head covered in black curly hair.
"You were wrong," mister, nurse Marais turned her popeyes in my direction and I knew she was
