Crushes

Yesterday afternoon I went into the city to have a little cyst cut out of my lip. No big deal, I had one removed two years ago. The three stitches itch a bit, but oh well.

As I dropped S with her daddy I picked up a copy of the weekly hospital newsletter figuring the wait in dermatology might be long and something to read would be good. On the cover of the newsletter was an article about the pediatric trauma unit being re-certified and an interview with the head of pediatric surgery, Dr. G.

Our beloved Dr. G.

Dr. G is an extremely confident and demanding, some would say cocky, pediatric surgeon. For residents and fellows and others beneath him, he can be very tough to work with. However, for patients and patient’s parents, he is the one you want working on your kid. He is kind and caring and more than competent.

Dr. G is probably the biggest reason C is here today. Dr. G saved C’s life. Twice.

During the code, my husband and I were sitting an empty PICU room just a few doors down from C, crying and praying, and listening to the desperate all-hospital pages requesting any and all available help to come to the PICU. For C.

While C was bleeding uncontrollably from chest tubes, and Dr. F was performing chest compressions, it was Dr. G that took over calling the code when he arrived, ordering just the right sequence of actions and procedures and medications and getting the situation under control without further invasive measures (there were rib spreaders ready). That was the first time.

We saw Dr. G everyday. He came in to check on C every day, often multiple times a day, and declared that he was the only doctor to touch this boy. No residents, no fellows, no junior faculty, just him. He even came back to the hospital on a Friday night at 11:30 to adjust C’s tubes. He ended every visit to C’s room with these words, in a strong, confident voice: "Keep the faith. God is good."

Five days after the code, C starting spiking big fevers that we were having trouble managing with ibuprofen and acetaminophen. On the sixth day, Dr. G ordered a CT scan to see what was going on. Within minutes of seeing the CT scan, he came to us and said C needed surgery, and he needed it now. He’d already had the OR schedule rearranged to get him in there within the hour.

That afternoon, Dr. G removed part of the lower lobe of C’s left lung (which he described as “hamburger”), and sucked out a hematoma that had been constricting C’s upper left lobe. This likely was the remains of whatever germ had attacked C’s lungs (to this day, we do not know what it was) and the source of the fever. He said that C likely would have had hours left if the surgery had not been performed as the rotting lung tissue was spreading. And that was the second time Dr. G saved C’s life.

C turned the corner with that surgery and started to really improve. More than a week later, Dr. G came to us to say good-bye. C was almost ready to go home. As Dr. G left C’s PICU room for the last time, he turned, not quite looking at us, and said, very quietly, “God was really looking out for this one.” And he walked out.

Dr. G had been using his game voice all along.

We've seen Dr. G a couple of times since - just walking through the hospital and at the fundraising walk. He always remembers C.

It’s an odd feeling, knowing there is person walking around who saved your son’s life. A good one, but odd. I have a bit of a crush on this man. Not a romantic crush, but a serious adoration. If he were to call and ask a favor, I probably would drop everything to do it.

He saved my son’s life after all.