Bob comes out of the closet, sort of… September 2007
Morning, y’all. Not 5 minutes after I posted last in the old thread about busting my butt at home because the weekend was quiet in the emergency context, there was a page for a 17 year old, (barely) 7 months pregnant girl having abdominal pains.
I was literally getting nekkid at the time to hop in the shower 'cuz I was nice and stanky from working outside, so it was easy to put on the EMT duds and I took off. When I got to the scene, buddy and potential adoptive grandma Sue (she makes the BEST cookies, hence my trying to get her to adopt me as a grandson) was helping the young girl out the door to the ambulance. We got her inside and settled, and the most awkward call of my life to date began.
I have no problem trauma stripping an adult of either gender, and I’ve seen plenty of naughty bits doing CPR and trauma exams. Kids are different, even older teens, and I was way uptight because of her age, but also because I’ve never had to deal with potential childbirth before.
Her britches had to go; I kept busy hanging a sheet over the back door of the ambulance to keep the peepers out. That kept my back to her and my awkwardness down.
Her contractions were about 3 minutes apart, but were not regular. Some came on time, some were late; a good sign. Even better, she had not lost her mucus plug, nor her water. If we got her to the hospital in time, there was a chance the docs could get her labor stopped.
So off we went. Then the awkward moment came to a head. I had to look under the sheet to check on things. By this time, I came to grips with what I had to do, but now the patient had the problem because I was a guy. Deb, the other EMT, said, “Bob is good and a professional. He needs to look.” The real reason was I needed the clinical experience.
“Why can’t you? He’s a guy!”
“He’s not doing it for his jollies. He’s a professional. [pause] Besides, he’s gay.”
I went :eek:, then 
“Well, OK. He can look.”
I looked, and saw no crowning or discharges. Let me tell you, there is nothing sexy about looking at mommy parts when there are children involved, either as owner or occupant.
We got her to the OB unit in plenty of time. I still don’t know if she sprouted or not, but in some ways this call was happier than Friday night’s attempted suicide. I hope they got labor stopped so the kid has a little more oven time.
To add insult to injury, there was another fire page right after midnight, for a yet another automated alarm misfire. The second one of the day, and the third in 2 weeks.
Epilogue: I stopped the next day to ask about the young patient. She was having contractions because of dehydration, and had dilated to 2 cm. The folks at the hospital rehydrated her and stopped the labor, so the girl has another shot at getting her sprout to full term.
Second Epilogue: The Saturday following VWife’s knee surgery, I ran into the girl and her mother at Hooterville Hardware. She was well into her 9th month, and looked like she was carrying a pumpkin. The sprout will be a big one…
Third Epilogue: Little Cheyenne was born on Friday, 7 December, her projected due date. Seven pounds, 12 oz, 20 inches long, and everything in their proper places. Mom and child are doing fine.