Going against the parents

At six pm my cell phone rang. I put down my dinner plate and answered my cell phone. "Can you come quickly, he's breathing funny" said the woman on the other end of the phone. "Hello, who is this?" I asked. "Is this the nurse on call?" asked the stranger on the end of the line. "Yes. Now calm down" I spoke calmly in the hope of getting the women on the other end of the line to follow my example. "Now, who are you, and who is having breathing problmes, and where are you?" I asked.

The caller was Mrs Anderson, a teacher on duty in the junior boys' dorm. She was with a boy called Mohammed who was breathing rapidly. The boy had no history of asthma, no medical problems, and according to Mrs Anderson, no sign of any injury. I told her I'd be there in five minutes.

My diagnosis was instant, although I still gave him a full check up. Mohammed was sitting outside on the steps because he said the 'Air was more fresh.' He was breating at a rate of 40-45 breaths per minute. At 85 beats per minute his pulse was fine, and his blood pressure was a healthy 125/75. His hands were beginning to cramp, looking like a bird's claws.

I sat down next to Mohammed. I moved slowly and calmly, every movement, every phrase aimed at creating a calm environment, my body language trying to say 'Don't worry, you'll be ok.'

Mohammed was having what is known as a 'Panic Attack'. With end of year exams about to begin he'd been getting more and more worried the closer exams came. As far as 'Panic Attacks' go this was definitely a good exmple of how nasty they can be.

I spent the next hour talking to him, trying to get him to slow his breathing, trying to have him blow into a paper bag, but it was all to no avail. I called the emergency doctor but he was busy with an emergency and couldn't come to see Mohammed, but he gave permission for me to give Mohammed a medicine to calm him down.

The medicine worked wonders and withing twenty minutes of taking the small tablet he was fast asleep in bed.

"I want the doctor to see him now" insisted Mohammed's dad. I had to hold the phone away from my head as he was nearly shouting down the line. "I'm sorry, but the doctor can't see him, and besides, Mohammed is fine now, he's fast asleep" I said. I had spent the last twenty minutes explaining very simply what had happened, but it wasn't getting through. "You're just a nurse, I want a doctor to physically see him and assess him. Take him to hospital, call an ambulance. I don't care, but do your job. He's my son and you will do as I say."

Nurses are generally understanding people and put up with a lot of abuse, but not when it comes to compromising their patients. "I'm sorry sir, but that would be the worst thing to do to Mohammed right now. It's taken a lone time to calm him down, and finally he is asleep, his breathing is fine. It really would be wrong to wake him, especially to drag him out of bed and take an half hour drive down the mountain. It could trigger another panic attack." I was determined not to wake Mohammed up at this stage, it would be the wrong thing to do, and may even make him worse. I had to stick to what I knew was right, regardless of what the parent said.

"You're telling me what I can and cannot do with my own son. I want a doctor, no, a I want a specialist to see him tonight or you won't have a job by the time I'm finished with you" screamed Mohammed's father. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I'm doing what I know is right for your son. You left him in our care, you trusted us to make the right decision. That's the issue sir, you're not here to assess your son. I am. If it makes you feel any better I'll be checking on him during the night and will take him to the doctor in the morning. I'll call you then. Goodbye" I turned off the phone.

Mohammed woke the next morning back to his normal self. He was at breakfast with his friends, laughing, running, doing all the things a healthy teenager should. I had made the right decision, alhtough I did wonder if it could have been handled better.