Friday, November 03, 2006
This is an, ahem, short story.
I have mentioned in previous posts that I appreciate those members of our society who smoke cigarettes; they were responsible for the vast majority of the medevacs I flew. There was one smoking-related medevac I did that stuck in my mind though.
We did a medevac flight one night in the MU-2, bringing a new-born boy and his teenage mother from Toronto up to Sault St. Marie.
I asked our medic what was wrong with the week-old boy.
"His mother smoked during pregnancy and he has a micro-penis, so they are going to see a specialist and try to find out if they can grow it. The nearest specialist who deals with this is in Sault, so that's why we are heading there."
Poor little bugger, talk about having the deck stacked against you.
For the rest of the flight, from time to time I'd turn around and scowl at the mother. She seemed oblivious; she was probably jonesing for a cigarette.
So my question is: How small does it have to be in a week-old boy in order to justify a night medevac flight to see a specialist? It's a rhetorical question, I really don't want to know the answer.