Henry -- As medical students we were required to do ten home
deliveries during our senior year while taking a class in obstetrics. In
Memphis there was ample opportunity for home deliveries among the fecund colored
population, so after a call from the obstetrical coordinator, a public health
nurse would pick up the student who was next on the roster and drive out to the
home of the intended patient. The nurse always called us ‘doctor’
but she was the one who really knew the ropes. The nurse would line the
patient’s bed with newspaper and I would count the time between pains and
wait for the climax.
On one occasion when the time was near the patient
began to call on her religious backers for help with each pain, then between
pains ask for the slop jar, saying she had to go. The public health
nurse cautioned, “Doctor, I would not advise putting her on the pot as she has
the ‘Jesus, help me pains’, and that is a sign of a fast-approaching
baby.” In my role of ‘Doctor’, I said, “I’ll handle this, nurse, just put
her on the pot”, feeling sorry for the patient. The next sound was a
loud THUNK. It was the baby, delivering itself into the slop
jar. I learned my lesson - listen to the voice of
experience. Will
Meriwether
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