Karin Baine - The Courage To Love Her Army Doc

Emily moved closer to the oscillating fan before the heat in her cheeks eroded her camouflage make-up and caught sight of a young woman running up the path with a baby in her arms.

‘Help! She’s not breathing!’

The baby, no more than nine or ten months, was conscious but not making a sound, even though her limbs were flailing in a panic. Not hearing a baby cry in this situation was heart-stopping for her too, indicating the child’s airway was completely blocked.

‘Give her to me. Quick.’

The child’s lips and fingernails were already turning blue but there was no visible sign of obstruction in her mouth.

Joe was at her side in the blink of an eye. ‘What happened?’

‘She... We were eating breakfast. She grabbed some bread off my plate. Is she going to be okay?’

Emily slid one arm under the baby’s back so her hand cradled the head. With her other arm placed on the baby’s front, she gently flipped the tiny patient so she was lying face down along her other forearm. She kept the head supported and lower than the bottom and rested her arm against her thigh for added support. With the heel of her hand she hit the baby firmly on the back between the shoulder blades, trying to dislodge whatever was stuck in there.

Delivering a blow to such a small body wasn’t easy to do without guilt but the pressure and vibration in the airway was often enough to clear it.

Unfortunately, after the recommended five back blows there was no progress. Time was of the essence as the lack of oxygen to the brain would soon become critical. She rushed over to lay the baby on the bed, paying no mind as Joe kicked the screen away so he had room to assist. He cradled the infant’s head, murmuring soothing words for child and mother as Emily started chest thrusts.

With two fingertips she pushed inwards and upwards against the breastbone, trying to shift the blockage. She waited for the chest to return to its normal position before she repeated the action. Her skin was clammy with perspiration as she fought to help the child to breathe. If this didn’t work they’d run out of options.

Joe reached out to touch her arm. ‘I’ve done a few tracheostomies in my time if it comes to it.’

He was willing to step up to the plate with her and she found that reassuring. She’d never performed one and hoped it wouldn’t come to that. The idea of making an incision for a tube into the windpipe of one so small was terrifying.

‘Thank you.’

With her surgical inexperience and the primitive facilities she was glad to have the backup but it was absolutely the last resort. His calm demeanour in the face of a crisis helped her to centre herself again and deliver another chest thrust.

She checked inside the mouth again. If this didn’t work she would repeat the cycle before letting Joe take over. After another chest thrust she felt movement beneath her fingers and heard a small cry.

‘You’ve got it!’ Joe’s shout confirmed her success and she stopped so he could retrieve the chunk of bread causing the trouble.

The colour slowly returned to the baby’s face and Emily had never been so relieved to hear a child cry.

‘Thank you. Thank you.’ The weeping mother alternated between hugging them and stroking her daughter’s face.

‘I just want to sound her chest.’ Emily unhooked her stethoscope from around her neck so she could listen to the baby’s heartbeat and make sure there was no resulting damage from the trauma. Her lungs were certainly in good order as she raged her disapproval.

Once she’d carried out her checks and made sure all was well, she gave the relieved mother the go-ahead to comfort her child.

‘I think I need to keep you all under observation for a while. Emily, if you don’t mind, I’m going to break into that stash of tea and biscuits I saw you put in your locker earlier. We all need it for shock.’ Joe’s worried frown had evened out into a relieved smile to match her own. She sat down on the bed and waited for the much-needed cup of tea, still feeling a tad shaky herself after the ordeal.

Having a partner here mightn’t be all bad. He’d let her take the lead today while still providing support, and tea, when she’d needed it. It made practical sense for them to work together. If only she’d stop overreacting to the slightest body contact. And staring at his backside as he bent down to retrieve her precious cure-all.

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