It’s no surprise that during the course of my work, I meet young girls that are having babies. Babies having babies. Little things that are too young to know how to get the oil changed in their car, and yet they’re about to bring life into this world. It scares the living crap out of me.
Last night was no different. Now, this was not the worst case I’d ever seen. My patient was 18 years old, which is ripe and mature by the standards of my hospital. And, to be completely honest, I fully expected this to be her second or third pregnancy, which is also common as cake.
I rolled my little patient into the room, and had her get up on the bed for me. I had to move her IV pump from the wheelchair to the bed post, and those things weigh almost as much as I do. I said, under my breath, “This isn’t going to be fun. Ugh.”…
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