Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Hi, my name is Jacob, I’m one of the doctors. I think we’ve met before,” he said to Brittni’s parents.
I kept my gaze fixed on Brittni. Her eyes were open, but her face seemed swollen. Her chest was rising and falling quickly and she looked pale. But the thing that stood out to me was her hair.
It was almost jet black, and clearly dyed.
A six-year-old with dyed hair.
Nothing about it felt right.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Jacob asked.
“Sorry, can I interrupt a second?” I asked. “Have you dyed Brittni’s hair?” I asked her parents.
Her mother’s eyes grew large and flitted from her daughter to her husband. “I mean, why would you ask me that?”
That was a yes if ever I heard one.
I approached Brittni and pulled on my examination gloves. “My name’s Sutton. I’m a doctor. I’m just going to check your head, Brittni,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The child didn’t even blink. She was clearly very poorly. I stepped forward and parted Brittni’s hair. Yes, clearly recently dyed and the product hadn’t been washed off properly. The dye was still on her scalp and around her hairline.
My heart began to bang against my chest, telling me I needed to act.
I turned to Jacob. “She needs adrenaline. She’s having an allergic reaction to PPD.”
Jacob put on his gloves and I showed him the excess dye. “When did you dye her hair?” he asked Brittni’s mother.
“Just this morning. But I used proper hair dye. My friend’s a hairdresser and she got me the real stuff. Brittni was desperate to do her hair like mine.”
Jacob caught my eye. I knew I needed to get the adrenaline that was always kept in the drugs cabinet.
“And after that Brittni started to get drowsy? Is her face more swollen that usual?” Jacob asked as I flew to the cabinet.
I was back moments later with a syringe, needle, a vial of adrenaline, and a trolley to prepare it all on.
Her father stood. “Yes, her face is swollen now you come to mention it.”
“Please prepare the injection,” Jacob said.
I took a breath, unwrapped the syringe and needle, attached the two as Jacob talked Brittni’s parents through what was happening and what we needed to do about it.
“Where will it be administered?” Jacob asked me as I unwrapped the vial and jabbed the needle through the top of the vial.
“Naught point three milligrams?” I asked, wanting to check the dosage.
Jacob stayed silent. He wanted me to be sure. He wanted me to have confidence in my ability.
I nodded. Yes, it was naught point three. She was six years old. “The anterolateral aspect of the middle third of the thigh.”
He nodded once. “Go ahead.”
“Brittni,” I said. “I’m going to give you an injection.” I turned to her parents. “It would be good if you could chat to her, just to keep her mind on other things.”
They both stood but stayed silent.
“Brittni, tell me your teacher’s name,” I said as I uncovered her leg and began to clean the area.
She closed her eyes. I needed to go ahead and inject her. She was deteriorating fast.
I jabbed the needle into her muscle and she barely moved. I pushed the adrenaline and withdrew the needle.
One of the nurses came up with a sharps box and I discarded the needle, then placed the used vial and my gloves into the bin at the bottom of Brittni’s bed.
“I’ll talk to the nurses about getting her head shaved,” I said.
Her mother gasped.
“I thought you just gave her medicine. Won’t she be fine now?”
She couldn’t be worried about her daughter’s hair when her life was at stake, could she? “The medicine has stopped her falling into a coma, but the dye is still on her scalp. It wasn’t washed off properly,” I said. “It’s had a chance to seep into the skin. It needs to be shaved and her scalp thoroughly washed.”
“She’s going to have to stay overnight,” Jacob said. “We’re going to have to monitor her.”
“Mummy,” Brittni said. It was the first word I’d heard her speak. The adrenaline was doing its job. Shame her parents couldn’t say the same thing.
Her mother looked at me. “Thank you,” she said.
I nodded. I wanted to tell her not to be so ridiculous next time and not dye a six-year-old’s hair. Or at least do a patch test and use a home dye kit rather than salon products at home. I didn’t. Nothing I said would change her mind if the near-death of her daughter hadn’t already.
“I’m going to leave you to write that up,” Jacob said as we moved away from the bay.
“Absolutely,” I said, my hands shaking as if I’d had the syringe of adrenaline.
“Good work.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. It was a very good catch,” he said. “If we’d been waiting for scans and bloods, it might have been much more serious. Your background and life experience are things you can draw on. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Believe in yourself.”