10 Minutes in E.R

By Mistress Babylon Consort

(Here’s a re-post of a blog I wrote after one of my E.R shifts)

There is never a minute that is the same in an emergency room. We go from zero to ten in less than a few seconds, and suddenly back to zero again. Trauma, and tragedy, heartbreaking and heartwarming stories, all encapsulate the human condition in a single place and time. This story is but 10 minutes in my E.R department. It is a story that repeats itself several times a day, every day.

Personal detail has been altered to protect patient privacy

‘RED ROMEO 9, 5 MINUTES, RED ROMEO 9’ boomed the overhead speaker through the emergency department, quickly followed by‘CODE BLUE EMERGENCY, CODE BLUE EMERGENCY’ throughout the entire hospital. My mind snapped to military attention.

Not now, no!

Somewhere in the city, an ambulance was nearly breaking every law in it’s screaming effort to reach the hospital where I worked.

At the moment of the call my attention had been with another patient. My heart melted looking into the pleasantly demented, clouded eyes of the frail old man, laying in his bed in front of me.

Be calm, smile. Just smile.

He had to go to the bathroom and I had the urinal, but we couldn’t agree on where to place it. Not there! Not there either! Almost!!! Please hurry. I HAD to get to the Resuscitation Room. My brain was beginning to split from the sudden adrenalin uptake brought on by a Code Blue call, controlled emotion, and an idiotic desperation in helping this gentleman find his..well, you know. Seconds on a clock wait for none. I decided entertainment has many faces and with a silent promise to return, handed him the urine bottle to figure out. Other eye’s would monitor his trials.

My timing, again, was uncannily perfect as I reached the doors of the Resus room and was caught in the surge of paramedics and firemen as they slammed the gurney through the battered doors. There seemed to be too many of them. Big guys, all sweating profusely. I mean I know it’s a crazy job…oh, here we go…‘STORY‘ yells the doctor.

At that moment, I’m face to face with a fireman over the patient. He’s doing CPR and about to hand off for me to continue. The synchronization must be perfect. Watch his hands, it’s her life, it’s her heart, I’m on her, LET”S GO!!!!!

‘…female, 42, collapsed at a party, unable to rouse, 911 called…carried her down 4 flights of narrow stairs tied to the backboard while continuing CPR …350 to 400 pounds…last name..down about 20 minutes.’

Her ribcage jumps after each violent compression. SNAP! I’ve broken her rib. Keep going. A hundred thrusts a minute. An eternity behind me. An eternity before me. My job, at least twice a day

Cease Compressions!’

The room freezes. A movie on pause. Twenty pairs of eyes turn to the heart monitor watching the unsure lines of her heartbeat ease gradually to a flat line. I put my fingers to her throat and press for a pulse, the doctor doing the same to the carotid artery in her pelvic area. No compressions, no heartbeat.

I want to throw up from the adrenalin surge.

The woman’s face is turned toward me, her sightless eyes open and staring in my direction.

Penny’s please, anyone?

The doctor wants confirmation. He’s watching me, waiting for the unspoken acknowledgment. A hated moment, indecisive, unsure, could we do more? She’s too young. It’s not my call. I remove my hand from her throat and say nothing, not a nod, not a glance, not a word.

He nods his head. Unspoken acknowledgement.

‘Is everyone okay if we call it?’

A shard of respect.

The room gradually empties. Brows are wiped, jokes tossed through the air like homeless balloons. I’m holding her eyes shut. I wonder how my other patient is doing?

Why are the police here? Oh, Suspicious Death.

Down down down, I go, standing on the abyss. I glanced at the clock. 10 minutes had passed.

Unwinding, but never all the way….