Babies Struggle To Survive After Typhoon Haiyan
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By TODD PITMAN 11/16/13
TACLOBAN, Philippines (AP) — Althea Mustacisa was born three
days ago in the aftermath of the killer typhoon that razed the eastern
Philippines. And for every one of those three days, she has struggled to live.
But she has clung to life because her parents have been
pushing oxygen into her tiny body with a hand-held pump non-stop ever since she
came into this world.
And "if they stop, the baby will die," said Amie
Sia, a nurse at a hospital in typhoon-wracked Tacloban city that is running
without electricity and few staff or medical supplies.
"She can't breathe without them. She can't breathe on
her own," Sia said. "The only sign of life this little girl has left
is a heartbeat."
More than a week after ferocious Typhoon Haiyan annihilated
a vast swath of the Philippines, killing more than 3,600 people, the storm's
aftermath is still claiming victims — and doctors here fear Althea may be the
next.
When the fierce storm smashed into this tropical country on
Nov. 8, it transformed Tacloban into an unrecognizable wasteland of rubble and
death.
The bottom floor of the two-story government-run Eastern Visayas Regional Medical Center was flooded, and the intensive care unit for newborns was left a muddy ruin. Life-saving machinery, like the facility's only incubator, was soiled with water and mud.
As the storm hit, doctors and staff took 20 babies who were
already in the intensive care unit to a small chapel upstairs for their safety,
placing them three or four in one plastic crib cart built for one newborn.
With the chapel converted into an ad-hoc neonatal clinic,
all the babies survived initially. But six died later, "because we lack
vital medical equipment that was destroyed," said the attending physician,
Dr. Leslie Rosario.
Within days, however, 10 more babies born during or in the
aftermath of the storm were taken in, including Althea. She was born at the
hospital on Nov. 13, weighing 2.65 kilograms (5.84 pounds), suffering from an
inability to breathe.
Doctors performed CPR on her and since then they have been
giving her oxygen from the hand-held pump connected to a blue rubber bubble
that fits into her tiny mouth and draws sustenance from a green tank through a
transparent pipe.
Doctors said the storm had not been a factor in the baby's
problems, noting that insufficient prenatal care most likely complicated the
pregnancy for the 18-year-old mother. The baby was not born premature.
Still, there was a good chance of saving Althea had the
hospital been equipped with electricity that would have run a ventilator,
incubator and other life-saving equipment.
Until Saturday, the makeshift ward in the chapel had no
light except candles. On Saturday, one small fluorescent bulb attached to a
diesel generator was hung in the middle of the room where a few packs of
diapers sit on the altar below a picture of Jesus.
On the floor are a few more boxes of the only medical
supplies left — water for IV fluids, syringes, a handful of antibiotics.
The hospital also lacks manpower. In the neonatal clinic
alone, only three out of 16 staff are still working, Rosario said. The rest never
reported back after the storm. The Philippines Department of Health sent two
nurses from Manila to help.
The hospital chapel's windows are all shattered and missing.
It is now filled with 24 babies — five of them in critical condition, the rest
with fevers or other ailments. Many were born premature.
Their parents are there too, resting on 28 rows of wooden
pews. Three mothers have IV drips in their arms.
Nanette Salutan, 40, is one of them. She said her labor
contraction began just as the winds from Haiyan began howling. The contractions
continued after the storm eased, and she walked to the hospital with her
husband. It was an eight-hour trek through corpse-filled rubble and waist-high
water.
"All I could think was, I wanted my baby to live,"
Salutan said.
Her baby boy, Bernard, was born the same night — at 2:13
a.m. He weighed just 2.6 kg (5.73 lb) and measured 45 centimeters (17.71
inches) tall.
But he did not cry, and they knew immediately something was
wrong.
The baby was not breathing.
Doctors performed cardiopulmonary resuscitation, and put
clear green tubes of oxygen in his nose. He is still so weak that he has to be
fed by a syringe that is connected to a tube taped to his mouth.
Rosario said Bernard had a decent chance of survival. But
Althea's prognosis is not good.
In a heart-stopping moment, her body turned blue as her
breathing became more labored. Doctors rushed in and connected an IV needle
into the remnant of her umbilical cord -- the one in her wrist had been there
too long to be effective, they said. Slowly life flowed back into her tiny
body.
"If we had a ventilator, it's possible she could
live," Sia said. "But right now she's very weak, and I don't think
she's going to make it."
"They've been traumatized by the typhoon, and now
they're traumatized because they're trying to keep their baby alive,"
Rosario said of Althea's parents. "They're physically and emotionally
exhausted."
As she spoke, Althea's mother, Genia Mae Mustacisa, leaned
over her baby girl, stroked her forehead and kissed it.
The newborn lay on a wooden table, eyes closed, wrapped in a
blue- and white-striped blanket. Her feet poked out, revealing a pair of
mismatched socks — one with pink and red hearts, one of the "Peanuts"
comic character Snoopy sweeping with a broom.
Methodically, her mother squeezed a green rubber bag
attached to the tall tank of oxygen slowly over and over, every few seconds,
just as her husband had done for half an hour before.
"It's OK," she whispered, tears streaming down her
cheeks. "I love you so much. No matter what happens, I love you so
much."
Source: www.huffingtonpost.com
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