Life-saving skills

Stuff that saves people is cool. We can all accept that. The things that really save people, though, are usually not what we expect. Helicopter transport, hypothermia with a cool machine that self-regulates, ICU care, monitors that beep and whistle, recombinant clotting factors that cost more than an SUV per ounce, those save people, right?

Um, maybe; but things that actually do are often eerily simple. Good chest compressions. Needles in the mid-clavicular line. And airway management--with a mask and a chin lift.

Terrifyingly recently, anesthesiologists would do a suprising number of cases without intubation and without a machine, just bagging the patient with an ambu bag. You breathe for the patient, literally.

On peds anesthesia this week, the best cases were the ear tubes, becuase for five minutes or so it'd just be me and the bag and the patient not breathing. This skill, as much as intubation, saves lives. Just a bag. No big fiber-optic scope, no fancy stainless steel LED-lit laryngoscope or, as my trauma surgeon called it, 'dog and pony show'.

It's all well and good to talk about lifting the jaw up into the mask with your pinkie, ring and middle finger spread from behind the jaw to the chin, but like any motor memory task, it takes time to learn it. Once you do, there's no feeling like holding the jaw up, squeezing the bag, and watching that little chest rise just enough to avoid inflating the stomach while still giving them oxygen. And to think we walk around normally breathing without even thinking about it. Want to manage a person's airway? Learn to bag. Don't know what to do with a failed airway? Learn to bag. Save a life.

/sermon.

Callous

The EMS call comes over the phone to us in the ED, ambulance in the field needs assistance. 5 month old, found down, not breathing for an unknown time, be advised CPR in progress. 1 round of epi through an intraosseous line, asystole is the presenting heart rhythm.

The three of us--intern, senior resident who answered the phone, and pediatric EM staff--calm down when we hear the story. This is not a rush, not a challenge, not a moment to shine. This is a moment to let death quietly come in. The chance of success bringing back a dead baby with no heart activity is near zero, and the chance of having a baby recognizable as a baby who smiles and coos is even smaller than that. But we are in a quiet, carpeted control room, not in a cramped ambulance performing CPR on a tiny infant with family looking on. It's easy for us to assess the situation at a distance. Easy for us to be 'objective'.

More details are relayed--impaired status at baseline, crack mom, baby now living with grandma who wants everything done. 2 rounds of epi, aystole in three leads. Intubation fails. Bagging, doing compressions. As I listen, the paramedics relay updates in brief chunks of speech with long pauses.

The senior resident asks for signs of lividity or prolonged downtime. A long pause. We're dealing with an african-american baby, hard to tell, comes the answer. One sign of lividity is pooling of blood by gravity, which is easier to see in a caucasian baby, but that's not why they answer that way.

Third round of epi. Asysto--wait, one beat. Another beat. Long pauses.

The pediatric staff puts her hand to the bridge of her nose, squeezing. I hate the third round of epi, she says. You can get a beat from a stone with enough epi, the senior resident says.

Ask them if there's a pulse. Cajole them. Push them to call off their efforts, it's the right thing to do. We're in the carpeted room. The situation is clear to us. We're not the ones compressing the tiny chest, feeling the ribs recoil, suctioning out the mouth, bagging, watching the limbs jump with the compressions. We're not the ones willing return of circulation. Not the ones chasing the fairy tale ending.

No pulse. Asystole. Stop.

I Will Never Diagnose Constipation

I will never diagnose constipation. I will never diagnose gastroenteritis. You have abdominal pain. You have nausea and vomiting. I may have to diagnose viral syndrome, due to the overwhelming crush of well-appearing sniffly children, but I draw the line after that.

To say 'constipation' or 'gastroenteritis' is to say 'there is no chance that you have badness currently occurring'. That is NOT how I have learned to think. This was reinforced a few days ago.

A 14-yo boy w/hx of constipation written suggestively in the nursing notes comes in with RLQ pain for only 2 hours that came on suddenly. I went to see him. His story was correct in sequence for an appy--pain first, central migrating to RLQ, with nausea. One tiny loose stool that did not relieve the pain. His exam was correct; he was tender maximally over McBurney's point, the magic spot for the appy. There was one more detail; there was something behind his eyes that told me he was sick. This is not scientific. It isn't always there. When it is, I have found it very reliable.

I went to staff the patient, told the story, and the attending, who is quite good, said, if you told a surgeon this story, they would laugh at you. No way appendicitis starts and progresses in only 2 hours. But, you're right, he's hooked us with his exam.

We tried a KUB which showed some stool. We tried a fleets enema, and it initially seemed to work. I actually filled out the paperwork for constipation before I went back in to re-examine him on my own, because the nurse said it made him feel better. Just before I went in, my staff went in, and came out. His exam was unchanged. CT showed a 1 cm dilated appendix with peri-appendiceal fat stranding (inflammation) and I called surgery for an acute appy, put in a line, gave him some morphine.

Constipation is a sign and a symptom, not a diagnosis. Yes, there are LOLs who come in with impaction, but it is due to something--inactivity, opioids, or, scary terrible inflammation in the gut that is waiting to kill them.

Gastroenteritis and constipation are dangerous, dangerous diagnoses--moreso becuase they are so common, and usually we will get away with these diagnoses if we are confident, or maybe foolhardy, enough to use them. The author of RENT, 3 days before he died in his apartment of a ruptured aortic aneurysm, was diagnosed with gastroenteritis. Is that common? No, or people would be dying in droves. But COMMON isn't what I'm looking for. I'm looking for 'zebras', what we call rare diseases. For a medicine doc or a pediatrician, that's usually some obscure genetic disorder. I look for enormous zebras with big teeth waiting to kill you--the aortic dissection, the coronary artery aneurysm from KD, the inferior MI that shows up as weakness.

It felt good to be right about this kid. He got helped. But how many have I sent? How many will I send? Only paranoia can save me from the abyss.

Respect the SS

Sickle-cell anemia comes in a couple of forms, but in general SC disease is more trait-like, and SS disease is more severe, with pain crises, strokes at young ages, autoinfarction of the spleen, and so on. So, typically we're more careful with SS patients than with others.

A 13 year old girl with SS comes in with a sore throat for about six hours and feeling a bit tired. She has friends who have strep. Her exam isn't scary; she does have a fever, and a bit of a fast heart rate (116), but otherwise, her throat isn't bad, she's not in respiratory distress, she's appropriately alert. This is not like a normal crisis. She's having absolutely no chest pain or shortness of breath. Her neuro exam is normal. By protocol we sent off CBC, reticulocyte count, and blood cultures, but only by protocol.

Her anemia was so profound that her count of new blood cells being created in order to make up for her losses was almost higher than her blood count. Her hematocrit was 18 (normal is above 35) and her reticulocyte count was 17 (normal is, like 2). Oh, and her O2 saturation was 80.

We only got an oxygen saturation because she had sickle cell disease.

This kid scared me good. Respect the SS disease. She looked fine! No respiratory distress! Yes, she had a murmur--but a hematocrit of 18?!? And a pulse ox of 80%?!?

Oh, by the way, the strep was negative.

Rant

This is a rant. Fair warning.

OK. Reasons NOT to bring your kid into the spanking new high-quality 20 bed pediatric only ED with 6 resuscitation rooms and triple attending coverage.

Number 1. My kid's foot jerks in his sleep sometimes. I videotaped it. It happens, like, every five minutes. He keeps sleeping but he, oh my GOD, like rolls over. I brought him in here, not so you ED docs could look at him because you don't know what seizures are, but so he could get an MRI and a STAT Neurology consult (I didn't tell her that was an oxymoron). Yes he has a fever. Yes he has a cold. Yes he's 18 months. So, A, that's not a seizure, it's sleep myoclonus, and B, even if it were a seizure and it were generalized, even up to 3 or four minutes, it would be a febrile seizure and he wouldn't need an MR. Let's say you're right and he is having focal seizures, just for the sake of argument; if that were the case, he has a fever so I have to 1, CT him, which is radiation which you don't want, and 2,tap him which you obviously won't like if it bothers you that his itty bitty widdle foot twitches in his sleep. Honestly. I'm not trying to deprive you of your God-given right to a stat MR for sleep myoclonus. I'm trying to avoid giving your kid leukemia (now thought to be perhaps as high as 1 in 1000 for early CT exposure). Sigh.

Number 2. My otherwise well kid really didn't sleep well last night and he has a runny nose. Guess what? My kid didn't sleep last night either, because despite stripping at the door and sprinting to the bathroom to wash my hands, I still am covered with stinky-germ-goo from people like you and all my kids, my wife, and I, are sick. I still came to work. My kid is at home. He woke up ten times too. My wife, who feels sick, is at home taking care of three sick kids so I can have the joy of telling you it's a virus and you should, like, suction his nose and let him rest. Christ.

Number 3. On to annoying primary docs (many are good, I'm not yelling at them). My patient is totally fine, but she has a bump on the back of her leg that doesn't hurt at all. She fell a MONTH ago on her shin and couldn't walk for a day and now is better. She has NO feverchillseasybruisinglossofappetitenauseavomitingdiarrheacoughheadachemalaise. You, smart PMD, told this poor lady and her two kids to come DIRECTLY to the ED for EMERGENCY hematology consult and EMERGENCY orthopedic consult. Apparently small, painless, barely noticeable calf bumps are outside the scope of practice for this particular generalist pediatrician.

Number 4, a special shout out to the receptionist. Thank you, oh thank you, for telling the chronic abdominal pain patient who, to their credit, is not requesting drugs or mega work-up, to come DIRECTLY to the EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT (so named because it is for emergencies, not clinic visits) so that we EM docs can arrange for your doctor to see you in the ED because he's over at the hospital today. Please, please don't tell the patient they can be seen in clinic by one of the doc's colleagues. Please, please don't tell them to make an appointment, God forbid, tomorrow when the doc is back in clinic. No, no. Send them directly here. I'll see them right after the runny nose, the calf bump, and the jerking foot kid.

GCS of Seven

Most kids aren't that sick in the ED. Some are downright well. After working there for a while, you're sicker than most of them because they've given you GI junk and URI junk and maybe some rash junk, too.

When they ARE sick, good God, it's scary. We had an ambulance call, not a trauma call, come in the other day, of a 3 year old, head versus TV, and 'altered'.

To prepare in my head, though I would never be the one to do it as an Intern, I reviewed RSI doses--0.2 mg/kg etomidate, 2 mg/kg succinylcholine, estimate for a 3 year old about 15 Kg, so 3 mg and 30 mg.

He came in moaning, not in a C-collar, his right arm flexed, eyes closed. GCS? 1 for eyes, 3 for pediatric moaning, 3 for flexion posture--seven. Needed a tube.

We took him into the trauma bay, and held C-spine precautions while I realized I didn't know how to work the C-collars we have at children's because I've never done it. Having never done a peds trauma resuscitation, I was sort of useless--I could hold the bag on and do the ATLS algorithm in my head, but so what?

IV in 2 minutes, intubated in 5, CT scanner in 10. Pretty good. The kids are so small and everyone is so intense, pediatric traumas are frenetic. Everyone is close together. The sphincter tone in the room is incredible.

His CT scan showed a skull fracture and air all over, with 2 mm of midline shift. Hopefully he'll do better.

That's Peds EM this month--95% BS snot and wheezing or their leg looks funny but doesn't hurt, and 5% holy crap.

L'il D

L'il D is a 2 month old. For reasons unknown, his soul was born to pain. His parents' story is that they were having a party and had too much to drink. L'il D was left on an ottoman, fell, and somehow acquired massive subdurals of different ages.

The human brainstem takes care of life for months. Early eating, sucking, and regulation rely on so-called 'primitive' reflexes but it's probably more fair to think of an operating system out of the box that takes care of basic tasks. After 2 to 3 months, the cortex should take over.

For this guy, his cortex can't take over. It's gone. He's cortically blind and deaf. He probably will never eat correctly. He's sort of all done.

For both of my last call shifts I've had to deal with him spiking temps or heart rates or both, and fussing. Babies fuss, that's OK, but they don't normally spike to a BP that would be hypertensive for a fifty-year-old smoking vet. And they don't fuss like D.

Last night, I held him. Now I have three kids, so I have the part of my brain that knows how to hold babies and wants them to feel better. Because I held him, I think, I now cry more for L'il D than almost any of the other remarkable patients I've had. You should see him. His head is a bit lopsided from all the swelling. His pupils are too big and usually lazily unequal. He has a tiny little NG tube in one nostril. All of his limbs are stiff and tonic because they don't have a brain to guide them. Despite all of it, he is, somehow, consolable. He likes to be held. His rates go down. He fusses but not as hard. His cries are miniature convulsions, eyes closed, bundled.

I don't know what happened to him. It may be his parents got drunk and he was hurt by someone else, he fell somehow. It doesn't matter. There is no justice for him. He's already gone, and yet still so vulnerable for the tail of soul he left behind when he was devestated.

Here's to him, and to the foster parents taking care of him when he goes home. L'il D, we love you. I hope your soul is more at rest the next time around.

Photo Credit: Not L'il D, of course, due to HIPAA.

FMOE: The Apathetic Adrenal

4-yo female, african-american with big bushy pigtails and a vacant stare, presented to an outside hospital today after mom noticed that she was unresponsive. Initial exam notable for altered mental status, hypothermia to 35.2, decreased respirations, bradycardia. Her blood sugar was urecordable; she got glucagon IM by EMS, then more glucagon in the ED, then D25, then a dose of 20 mg hydrocortisone with subsequent return to baseline.

Mom is present with the child and notable for flat affect and a poor recollection of when she was seen last, by whom, or the name of any of the specialists that take care of her. She knows her PMD who is an NP at a free clinic.

Her past medical history is notable for a stroke at the age of 3 with persistent right lower extremity weakness and some speech delay, adrenal insufficiency of unknown etiology, and multiple seizure episodes accompanied by hypoglycemia.

The differential for shock that presents as above includes adrenal crisis but also sepsis and dehydration. The prodrome, if history is obtained, may often include a recent illness. This girl, g-tube dependent from her stroke, had vomited twice over the last two days and had generally been 'tired'. Check.

Physical exam findings may support CAH--abnormal genitalia, vitiglio, or the like, which I've never seen. She had no such findings.

The most interesting part of the case is, first, the appeal of a 'fix-it' intervention for a shocky patient--the hydrocortisone brought her back to baseline relatively quickly--and the oddity of such an apathetic parent and child. Their main question on rounds has been 'when can I go home?' A genogram reveals lots of hypoglycemia and stillbirths in first-degree relatives but mom didn't really care. I mean, I know you are a primary care giver for a sick kid and that can be tough but sheesh.

The other part of it is home management. Like asthma, if a kid with known AI starts to get sick, or get fatigued, parents should give them a stress dose of steroids--2 to 3 times their normal dose of supplemental meds. Mom HAD that at home. Although it's easy to use the retrospectoscope on her, it would've saved her kid a lot of possible harm to just treat early. And she's had a STROKE at the age of FOUR in the past! I would think that would catch her attention.

The other explanation is that she's very aware just tired of residents. That's possible.

Still, good to keep on the differential for a cold, slow, shocky kid, especially with a non-specific, malaise-and-angst-laden prodrome or some flu-like illness.

Photo Credit.