BUNGY BABY

The Labour Ward is where most of the action and excitement takes place. It is a busy place where everyone- doctors, nurses, midwives, and medical students included, is kept on their feet most of the time. It is not exactly a place I would like to be at, but I had no choice when I was on-call during my second posting as a houseman.

I was on-call on Merdeka Day, 31st August 2001. It was an extremely busy day. Pregnant ladies kept pouring in to the Labour Ward, one after another. I had lost count of the total deliveries that day. All the babies seemed to be so eager to come out of their mothers’ wombs and be tagged as “Merdeka Babies”. Even premature ones could not wait another day.

My most interesting, or should I say worst, experience at the Labour Ward happened when I first started at the department. My colleagues call it the “Bungy Baby” story. A native lady in her second pregnancy was brought in by some relatives one night when I was on duty. She did not speak Malay well and I had difficulty communicating with her. The relatives left early. I knew that was not a good idea.

She looked very comfortable so I decided to clerk her first before doing a vaginal examination. She was not a very good historian, but I managed to gather that she was not having regular and strong contraction pain. Her face was somewhat “masked-like” and expressionless, so that made it difficult to tell whether she was in pain. But I then proceeded to do a vaginal examination quickly as I noticed changes on the cardiotocogram. The baby’s heart beat was occasionally falling from the baseline.

I was horrified to find that her cervical os was almost fully dilated. I told her not to push before I dashed off to grab a wheelchair, to get her to a delivery bed as soon as possible. As I wheeled her into the room, I reminded her repeatedly not to push yet. She had kept a straight face from the moment she walked into the Labour Ward with her relatives, and had not uttered much.

The worst happened as we reached the delivery bed. The pregnant lady was still on the wheelchair, remaining silent. Two midwives were around. I heard one of them said aloud, “Oh, shit.” Something had dropped. I was stunned for a moment, before saying “Oh, shit” myself. I froze for a second or two, before I could act accordingly. The baby had come out, and almost dropped on the floor, if not for the umbilical cord, which was of just the perfect length. Our patient remained calm.

I felt very bad after that, but I had refused to take the blame entirely. I was haunted by paranoia for the next few days. The very sight of a pregnant lady sent shivers down my spine. I did vaginal examination on all patients who came in with the slightest sign of labour. There was not going to be another “bungy baby”!