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Before the Dawn
Wednesday, 14 August 2013 22:00I keep the door open to my room, because I like airflow, it cuts down on the claustrophobia and powerlessness of being in hospital so long and I'm nosy.
As I am on Lasix, I tend to need to pee every couple of hours.
So it was no surprise that I found myself awake at 5:40am. Someone in the hallway yelled Code Blue! Code Blue. This is not the first one I've heard. They happen. From the left, towards the nurse's station, someone asked for confirmation. Full Code.
Thirty seconds in and the first people running past me door are aides (burgundy shirts), since there are more of them and they work the floor all night so they're there. One starts heading back towards the nurse's station. What's the number? I don't know -- ask the nurse. Backboard. Already there. There is a rhythmic sound that I assume is someone doing chest compressions.
Crash cart arrives, along with the first nurses (blue shirts). Get the chart. Already coming. Call 9-1-1. Already called.
A minute or so in, overhead announces Code Blue, Code Blue 5149.
It's the room next door. We share a bathroom.
Four minutes in and blue shirts have been arriving from other floors. There are double doors in the corridor. They close only for fire drills. I can see the reflection on the glass, the low over the bed lighting and a couple of heads. Whatever is going on, there is an air of concern and distress, but no one is losing their heads.
Nine minutes in and I can hear sirens approaching. A security guard arrives. At the fourteen minute mark two EMTs arrive carrying bearing packs. Within a minute, more FDGR personnel arrive with a gurney burdened with gear. And one FDGR fireman in turnout coat and a baseball cap.
The work continues with quiet discussion.
When I note that it's half a hour in, someone announces thirty minutes. Activity diminishes and excess people are splitting up. One of the EMTs says something to the women in the room and then the tension is broken with several people giving a short laugh. At the fifty minute mark most of the FDGR crew and their gear has left the fifth floor.
And I have a guilty feeling. "Eddie" bellowed, at any hour of the day or night. He didn't believe in using the call button. He was bellowing at 5:15am, but I was too asleep to know what he was saying. It's been quiet on the floor since then, hence the guilty feeling.
Life happens. And then it doesn't.
Dr. Phil
As I am on Lasix, I tend to need to pee every couple of hours.
So it was no surprise that I found myself awake at 5:40am. Someone in the hallway yelled Code Blue! Code Blue. This is not the first one I've heard. They happen. From the left, towards the nurse's station, someone asked for confirmation. Full Code.
Thirty seconds in and the first people running past me door are aides (burgundy shirts), since there are more of them and they work the floor all night so they're there. One starts heading back towards the nurse's station. What's the number? I don't know -- ask the nurse. Backboard. Already there. There is a rhythmic sound that I assume is someone doing chest compressions.
Crash cart arrives, along with the first nurses (blue shirts). Get the chart. Already coming. Call 9-1-1. Already called.
A minute or so in, overhead announces Code Blue, Code Blue 5149.
It's the room next door. We share a bathroom.
Four minutes in and blue shirts have been arriving from other floors. There are double doors in the corridor. They close only for fire drills. I can see the reflection on the glass, the low over the bed lighting and a couple of heads. Whatever is going on, there is an air of concern and distress, but no one is losing their heads.
Nine minutes in and I can hear sirens approaching. A security guard arrives. At the fourteen minute mark two EMTs arrive carrying bearing packs. Within a minute, more FDGR personnel arrive with a gurney burdened with gear. And one FDGR fireman in turnout coat and a baseball cap.
The work continues with quiet discussion.
When I note that it's half a hour in, someone announces thirty minutes. Activity diminishes and excess people are splitting up. One of the EMTs says something to the women in the room and then the tension is broken with several people giving a short laugh. At the fifty minute mark most of the FDGR crew and their gear has left the fifth floor.
And I have a guilty feeling. "Eddie" bellowed, at any hour of the day or night. He didn't believe in using the call button. He was bellowing at 5:15am, but I was too asleep to know what he was saying. It's been quiet on the floor since then, hence the guilty feeling.
Life happens. And then it doesn't.
Dr. Phil
