Evolution

Timothy Lum

13 December 2010

FD5

 Evolution

     It was a sweltering summer night, and I sat in front of my computer completely and utterly bored.  I felt a festering uneasiness at my core.  I paced restlessly to and fro from my living room, desperately hoping to have an epiphany.   Alas, it was hopeless; I had exhausted all the resources kept in place to keep me occupied late into the night.  It was tragic, what was once my greatest source of joy, now lay as an expensive decoration piece; it's angular black body and blue 'PS2' lettering contrasted nicely against the white walls of my room.  I did not want to stay within the confines of my home, but leaving would produce an even greater problem; where would I go?  It was definitely time for a change, living an anti social existence finally took its toll on me.  That night I declared 'Operation turn around' to be of the highest importance.  [Thesis]It was time to correct myself, it was time to create a new me.[Thesis]

Ever since I can remember, I have always worn different masks depending upon the situation.  As a child, I wore the mask of a 'good boy' around adults and at school; I was quiet, reserved, and conservative for the most part.  Around my good friends, I wore the mask of '5 star general Lum'; I served as their leader, as well as a brilliant tactician who planned the games at recess.  When I was alone, I wore the mask of 'agent code name Wolf'; a person of deep thought, adventurous personality, and sharp wits.  Sometime between the sixth grade and my sophomore year in high school, I had merged the 'good boy' and 'general' mask into one.  I had completely discarded my 'agent Wolf' mask.  Since the merger, I conned myself into believing that at my inner most core, I was destined to forever be an anti social nerd.

From high school to my first year of college I was an all natural pure not from concentrate nerd.  I would never speak or engage in small talk unless spoken to first.  My conversations would never last more than a few sentences unless it steered towards videogames or the stock market.  I could tell you how many points the Dow and Nasdaq fell, but for the life of me, I would not have been able to tell you who was newly voted off of Survivor.   My fabulous wardrobe consisted of only extra large tee shirts, and denim shorts.  I wore a very dated side part, and unusually large rimmed glasses.  In the classroom, I kept a very low profile; never joining class discussion, or expressing my ideas in front of people.  I was as forgettable as the color of the ink used to scribe a lecture on the white board. 

 

During that fateful summer night, I had outgrown my most valued of hobbies.  Videogames did not have the same hold on me it once had, I could no longer sit entertained for more than ten minutes.  My friends were all night hermits, and I quickly lost interest when we discussed videogame gossip via Aol Instant Messenger.  That same night I decided to switch teams, and join the league of extroverts.

I came up with a simple formula in which I would follow.  I would mimic the coolest extrovert I know, James Bond.  Agent 007 always spoke with a calm in his voice, he was always prepared in any given situation, and he was very witty.  In the months that ensued, I began my radical transformation.  In order to have small talk ammunition; I studied pop culture by reading a variety of magazines, and watched hours of popular television shows.  To extinguish nerdy habits I practiced calmer speech patterns.  To develop a quick wit, I would watch British television shows.  In order to get myself to engage more people in conversation, I would pretend I was James Bond gathering intelligence for my mission.  I also took up many random hobbies in order to fill up my schedule with activities.

It was extremely hard to constantly carry on a performance and stay out of my comfort zone.  After many performances, I found out that I had created and assumed into a new character.  I had turned into what I aspired to be; well... I turned out to be me, but a more talkative and sociable me.  Creating a new me required a lot of dedication, but the process was very rewarding along the way.  I had made new friends, and gained a sense of belonging and acceptance.

FD4

Timothy Lum

December 12, 2010

FD#4

Dork?

It was a cool Hawaiian night in the fall of 1998.  Somewhere in the post dawn hours of late night television shows and refrigerator raids came a boisterous cry, "booyah! level 100 Charizard jerk holes!"  Minutes later someone shouted out, "ah! touchdown!", which disrupted the shortly lived silence within the confines of my cousins' two story house.  I was a guest that night at my cousins Mike, and Tom's house.  Evenings were usually split between watching sports and playing videogames.  My cousin Mike was primarily a sports fan, and Tom was primarily a videogamer.  Society has taught us many lessons, one of which is the concept of social hierarchy.  With just a brief description, most people would have already categorized my cousins into two distinct groups.  [Thesis]Often times, society's lessons are observed only by our mind's eye.[Thesis]

Mike was a medium built high school senior with short buzzed hair.  He was a member of the varsity tennis team, as well as their star doubles player.  Since his childhood, he has always had an abundance of stored energy waiting to be unleashed.   Tom was spiky haired and also of medium build.  Tom participated as vice president of the Pokemon Club at school, as well as Mike's tennis partner.  Despite being identical twin brothers, Mike and Tom lead different social lives. 

Tom did not get nearly the same amount of attention from girls as Mike had.  Mike would get far more invites to social gatherings, and calls to the house would more often be forwarded to him as well.  Mike's inner circle of friends had a healthy male to female ratio; while Tom's inner circle consisted only of males.  To anyone who has been through high school, this is about as shocking as a two wheeled bicycle.  Stereotypically, Mike could be considered the cool jock, while Tom had the lead role of dorky outcast.  If aliens from a galaxy far far away had to research how humans socially ranked one another, they would be hard pressed to find a consistent system.  In the case of my cousins; both subjects shared similar DNA, had similar faces, and both conducted themselves in a very similar manner.

Mike and Tom were very enthusiastic with their hobbies and interests.  Mike would endlessly scour the internet for the latest news concerning his favorite athletes.  He would also read several commentaries concerning certain players matches.  Tom was no different in burning the late night oil in order to gather more information.  Tom's internet browser was filled with bookmarks to videogame sites; the sites were also separated into distinct categories.  Tom would read gamefaqs.com to familiarize himself with new game strategies, and for purchasing advice he would travel to ign.com.  Before the era of internet cafe's, wifi, and iPhones; there weren't too many outlets available to feed a person's addiction for information.  The answer to that conundrum lay in picture laden periodicals, also known as magazines.  Tom had subscriptions to Next Generation Gaming and Playstation Magazine; while Mike subscribed to Sports Illustrated and Tennis magazine.  Having bountiful resources of information endowed the brothers Mike and Tom with special abilities.  From memory, Tom was able to inform you that the pokemon Charmander, evolves into a Charmeleon at level 16 before becoming a Charizard at level 36.  Mike possessed a similar ability; from memory he would be able to tell you that in 1998 Andre Agassi won five titles leaping from world ranking number 122 to number 6 in one calendar year. 

As is customary with many sports fans, Mike would proudly display his favorite teams’ logo on his clothing.  A typical outfit Mike would be clad in included a black and red baseball cap featuring his beloved Chicago Bulls, a collared black and white Andre Agassi tennis shirt, and a pair of black Babolat tennis shoes endorsed by Andy Roddick.  Tom would also sport clothing exalting his devotion to a hobby.  Tom had a very extensive collection of tee shirts featuring many videogame characters; his favorite being a black tee shirt featuring the golden Tri-force logo from The Legend of Zelda.  Their attire matched beautifully with the decor of their rooms.  Tom's walls were blanketed with posters featuring his all time favorite videogame character, Cloud Strife from Final Fantasy VII.  Tom was especially proud of his rarest wall scroll; it featured a spiky yellow haired Cloud on the back of his immense black motorcycle Fenrir.  His shelves were littered with videogame strategy guides, game magazines, and plastic robot models featured in the game Virtual On.  Like Tom’s room, Mike adorned his room with posters that featured his favorite athletes in action.  Above his bed was Anna Kournikova with her backhand in full swing, behind the door was Pete Sampras in mid serve, and just above his computer was a poster of Andre Agassi diving for save.  Mike's collection of tennis posters were so extensive, it featured players from Andre to Venus. 

Without the distractions of school, due dates, and tennis practice; Mike and Tom like do their research in the field on the weekends.  Tom would frequent the most popular arcades as judged by his peers; the most popular being Hawaiian Brian's.  Hawaiian Brian's was a dark and smoky environment.  At the door you were instantly greeted by the scent of second hand smoke, and deafened by the music coming from the Dance Dance Revolution machines.  At Hawaiian Brian's, Tom would learn and implement new strategies by watching and competing with the people there.  Crafting friendships with the other regulars, Tom was able to acquire more information.  Mike would frequent the Kapiolani tennis courts late at night.  At 11pm, the Kapiolani tennis courts were still quite busy.  Usual waiting time for an open court was nearly an hour.  However mind numbingly boring a wait could be, it did not phase Mike. While waiting for an open court, he would closely examine each player’s style of play.  Mentally noting each subtle movement and reaction, Mike would employ their techniques during practice.  The reason behind Mike’s late night tennis sessions, were because graduates of the same alma mater played there at that time.  Mike would not only have a chance to learn from the upper classmen, but they would give him inside information about his upcoming opponents.  For instance, Mike acquired information that Kalani High School's first seed doubles net player was very easily intimidated.  In order to psych out that certain player, all he would have to do is forfeit one point.  That is, forfeiting a point by hitting the ball at full strength straight into the net in the direction of his opponent. 

With all hobbies and interests, information is useless without application.  Tom would often spend his mornings by saving the world from a galactic threat, or rescuing a princess from an overgrown turtle creature with spikes on his shell.  On his way to school, he would continue playing via his custom blue metallic Gameboy Color.  Even though videogames were contraband, Tom held a secret alliance with his homeroom teacher Mr. Ihara.  Behind closed doors during lunch, Mr. Ihara allowed Tom and his friends to use the classroom television to hook up their various game consoles.  After tennis practice, chores, and homework; Tom would play another round of videogames until his optical and mental strength gave out.  Mike was no exception to obsession either.  Much to his parents’ dismay, Mike would spend his mornings practicing his forehand against the side of his house.  Between classes, Mike would practice a common yet difficult tennis technique used to promote quick net play.  The technique involved placing a tennis ball at the top of the strings; the person would then proceed to flinging the ball upward as if they threw it, as the ball descends, the person would catch the tennis ball by matching the velocity of the falling tennis ball with their racket.  At lunch, Mike and his friends would gather in front of the school gymnasium and throw around a football; all the while discussing previous games and scores.  After Mike had finished his homework and house duties, he would immediately go to check his Yahoo! fantasy football account.  Employing his knowledge of statistics and player history, Mike was in first place in his fantasy football league. 

Looking with the minds' eye, it is easy to conclude that my cousin Tom should be rightfully dubbed the outcast in high school society.  However, from an objective point of view, the lines between cool and dork are blurry.  In our minds' eye, the line is usually drawn at social interaction.  The general connotation behind dorks and outcasts is that, they have limited interactions with the population.  This misconceived idea is simply untrue; just about every hobby or interest worth being obsessed about has a large following.  Many people with similar interests will eventually congregate with one another in large numbers; Star Wars conventions are a testament to this.  Both parties devote countless hours to their sport, and both parties is able garner many social interactions with peers. 

_X_Nov. 9t- Intro to Paper #4: Read Guidelines for Paper #4: Literary Journalism (Confirmation reply required.)
_X_Nov. 15M- Complete readings for paper #4: chap. 15 (Confirmation reply required.)
_X_Nov. 22M- Laulima Discussion #1.
_X_Nov. 29M- Laulima Discussion #2.
_L_Dec. 3F- RD4 due [50 pts] Review the guidelines. (Confirmation reply required.)
_X_Dec. 6M- RD4 Evaluations due [50 pts] Review the guidelines. (Confirmation reply required.)
_X_Dec. 9-12- FD4 due [150 pts] Review the guidelines. (Confirmation reply required.)

Dork?

Timothy Lum

3 December 2010

RD#4

Dork?

It was a cool Hawaiian night in the fall of 1998.  Somewhere in the post dawn hours of late night television shows and refrigerator raids came a boisterous cry, "booyah! level 100 Charizard jerk holes!"  Minutes later another shout, "ah! touchdown!", disrupted the shortly lived silence within the confines of my cousins' two story house.  I was a guest that night at my cousins Mike, and Tom's house; evenings were usually split between watching sports and playing videogames.  My cousin Mike was primarily a sports fan, and Tom was primarily a videogamer.  Society has taught us many lessons, one of which is the concept of social hierarchy.  With just a brief description, most people would have already categorized my cousins into two distinct groups.  [Thesis]Often times, society's lessons are observed only by our mind's eye.[Thesis]

Mike was a medium built high school senior with a short buzzed hair cut.  He was a member of the varsity tennis team, as well as their star doubles player.  Ever since Mike was young, he has always had an abundance of stored energy.   Tom was spiky haired and also of medium build.  Tom participated as vice president of the Pokemon Club at school, as well as Mike's tennis partner.  Despite being identical twin brothers, Mike and Tom lead different social lives. 

Tom did not get nearly the same amount of attention from girls as Mike had.  Mike would get far more invites to social gatherings, and calls to the house would more often be forwarded to him as well.  Mike's inner circle of friends had a healthy male to female ratio, while Tom's inner circle consisted only of males.  To anyone who has been through high school, this is about as shocking as a two wheeled bicycle.  Stereotypically, Mike could be considered the cool jock, while Tom had the lead role of dorky outcast.  If aliens from a galaxy far far away had to research the social behaviors of humans, they would be hard pressed to find an answer.  Both subjects shared similar DNA, had similar faces, and both conducted themselves in a very similar manner.

Mike and Tom were very enthusiastic with their hobbies and interests.  Mike would scour the internet for the latest news concerning his favorite athletes.  He would also read several commentaries regarding certain players matches.  Tom was no different in burning the late night oil to gather more information.  Tom's internet browser was filled with bookmarks to videogame sites; he even had them separated into categories.  Tom read gamefaqs.com to familiarize himself with new strategies; and for purchasing advice he would travel to ign.com because he felt the reviewers were not as biased.  Before the era of internet cafe's, wifi, and iPhones; there was really only one way to feed a person's addiction for information when they were not at home, the cure was magazines.  Tom subscribed to Next Generation Gaming and Playstation Magazine, Mike had his subscriptions to Tennis and Sports Illustrated magazine.  Having bountiful resources of information on tap granted brothers Mike and Tom with special abilities.  From memory, Tom was able to inform you that the pokemon Charmander, evolves into a Charmeleon at level 16 before becoming a Charizard at level 36.  Mike also possessed this same ability; and would be able to tell you that Andre Agassi won five titles leaping from world ranking number 122 to number 6 in one calendar year. 

As is customary with many sports fans, Mike would proudly wear his favorite teams logo or jersey.  Mike would often be seen wearing a black and red baseball cap featuring his beloved Chicago Bulls, a black and white Adidas tennis shirt in honor of Andre Agassi, or a pair of black Babolat tennis shoes endorsed by Andy Roddick.  Tom would also clad himself in clothing exalting his primary interests.  Tom had a very extensive collection of tee shirts featuring many videogame characters; his favorite being a black tee shirt featuring a golden Tri-force logo from The Legend of Zelda.  Their attire matched beautifully with the decor of their rooms.  Tom's walls were blanketed with posters featuring his favorite videogame character of all time, Cloud Strife from Final Fantasy VII.  Tom was especially proud of his rarest wall scroll, it featured a spiky yellow haired Cloud on the back of his immense black motorcycle Fenrir.  Shelves were littered with videogame strategy guides, game magazines, and plastic models of robots from Virtual On.  Mike's room was adorned with posters that featured his favorite athletes in action.  Above his bed was Anna Kournikova in full swing of her backhand, behind the door was Pete Sampras readying to serve, and just above his computer was a poster of Andre Agassi diving for save.  Mike's collection of tennis posters were so extensive, it featured samples from Andre to Venus. 

Without the distractions of school, due dates, and tennis practice; Mike and Tom like do their research in person on the weekends.  Tom would frequent the most popular arcades as was judged by his peers; the most popular being Hawaiian Brian's.  Hawaiian Brian's was a dark and smoky environment.  At the door you were instantly greeted by scent of second hand smoke, and the deafening music coming from the Dance Dance Revolution machines.  At Hawaiian Brian's, Tom would learn and implement new strategies by watching and playing with the other people.  Crafting friendships with the other regulars, Tom was able to share and gather more information.  Mike would frequent the Kapiolani tennis courts late into the night.  At 11pm, the Kapiolani tennis courts were quite busy.  Usual waiting time for an open court was nearly an hour.  The wait did not bother Mike, while waiting for an open court, he would observe the play style of other players.  Mentally noting subtle movements and reactions, Mike would often employ these techniques during practice.  For Mike, the main reason for playing tennis at such a late hour was because graduates of the same alma mater played there as well.  Mike would not only have a chance to learn from the upper classmen, but they would give him inside information about some of the players.  Mike learned that Kalani High School's first seed doubles net player was very easily intimidated.  In order to psych out said player, all one would have to do is forfeit one point; by simply hitting the ball at full strength straight at the net in his direction, the opponent would lose his nerve. 

With all hobbies and interests, information is useless without application.  Tom would often spend his mornings saving the world from a galactic threat, or saving a princess from an overgrown turtle creature with spikes on his shell.  On his way to school, he would continue playing via his custom blue metallic Gameboy Color.  Even though videogames were contraband, Tom held a secret alliance with his homeroom teacher Mr. Ihara.  Behind closed doors during lunch, Mr. Ihara allowed Tom and his friends to use the classroom television to hook up their various game consoles.  After tennis practice, chores, and homework; Tom would play another round of videogames until his optical and mental strength gave out.  Mike was no exception to obsession either.  Much to his parents dismay, Mike would spend his mornings practicing his forehand against the side of his house.  Between classes, Mike would practice a common but difficult tennis technique used to promote quick net play.  The technique involved placing a tennis ball at the top of the strings; the person would then proceed to flinging the ball upward as if they threw it, as the ball descends, the person would catch the tennis ball by matching the velocity of the falling tennis ball with their racket.  At lunch, Mike and his friends would gather in front of the school gymnasium and throw around a football; all the while discussing previous games and scores.  After Mike had finished his homework and house duties, he would immediately go to check his Yahoo! fantasy football account.  Employing his knowledge of statistics and player history, Mike was in first place in his fantasy football league. 

Looking with the minds' eye, it is easy to see that my cousin Tom should be dubbed the outcast in high school society.  After all, Tom was the one who constantly had his gaze set upon a screen with moving pixels.  Forget that he was also a top ranked doubles player, he spent his lunch time hours away from the rest of the school to jam on a six button controller.  However, from an objective point of view, the lines between cool and dork seems blurred.  In our minds' eye, the line is usually drawn at social interaction.  The general connotation behind dorks and outcasts is that, they have limited interactions with the population.  This misconceived idea is simply untrue; just about every hobby or interest worth being obsessed about has a large following.  Many people with similar interests will eventually congregate with one another in large numbers; Star Wars conventions are a testament to this. Whether a social interaction is under a "dorky" pretense is of no issue; the fact of the matter is that it is still a social interaction. 

Soon To Be Former Sidekick

Timothy Lum

11-12-10

FD3

Soon To Be Former Sidekick

The hour was late, the lower back was aching, and the books on my desk resembled a virus extending over the surface of a cell.  My eyes had developed a mutinous will of its' own.  It plotted to shut down all the operations of the body with the single act of an eternal blink.  For the most part, it was successful.  I had succumbed to total bodily paralysis.  Just as reality started to blur into a dream state, I began to hear a desperate voice cry out.  It sounded as if the voice was approaching me with haste, and each time the words "grandpa wake up, wake up grandpa!" became louder.  Waking up abruptly, I gasped for a breath as if I had been underwater.  I immediately reached for my energy drink and consumed its' contents.  My eyes still fatigued, I was newly filled with an unnatural high as I commenced my studying.  [Thesis]I was determined to evolve from a sidekick, and into a hero.[Thesis]

It was a Sunday morning, and I was prompt for my 6:30am shift.  Once the morning coffee kicked in, I started to enjoy the hospital's serene environment.  Many departments did not operate on the weekends, so the normal hustle and bustle of machines and tests were nonexistent that day.  At 9:00am I finished the last of my morning rounds in the Critical Care Unit (CCU).  

On a typical weekday, the CCU was normally comprised of seven to eight nurses.  But on that Sunday, the entire CCU was spearheaded by Alma, John, Patrick, and Lorna.  Alma was a petite woman who was always sporting the latest trends.  John was an eight year old trapped inside a grown mans' body.  Patrick was your typical intellectual; someone who was quick with witty remarks, and who was always in the know about political issues.  Lorna was the nicest person in the entire hospital, she was also the hardest working person.  I had grown close with the CCU staff over the past two years of my employment; close enough to be accepted into their inner breakfast circle.  In this circle, we would all eat together around a table just like a family would, and our conversations would vary from life stories to whom we wanted voted off a particular show.  The topic of that morning however, revolved around an elderly patient in room 3.

The patient in room 3, whom I will refer to as Joe Smith, was Lorna's patient.  By looking at Joe, you would never have guessed that he was critically ill.  In the medical industry, Joe was what we called a frequent flyer; he frequently checked in and out of our hospital.  Initially, Joe was your typical disgruntled patient; every nurse in the ward desperately wanted to avoid him.  He eventually warmed up to the hospital staff after having lost a bet to me.  

It all started with my first encounter with Joe.  Every nurse and doctor warned me about our new guest in room 505, a mister Joe Smith.  As I performed an EKG test on Joe, he was compliant yet grouchy.  While listening to his complaints about the nurses, I learned that he was a Dodgers fan; and that he had named his dog Dodger, in honor of his favorite baseball team.  After several conversations about his dog, and how his condition limited his passion for photography; I concluded that I had built sufficient rapport with Joe.  Enough rapport to kindly ask that he cut the nursing staff some slack, and to try smiling more often.  Joe scoffed at my comment saying how he hated being in hospitals, and how no one would be able to get him to smile.  Answering back with a bit of defiance in my voice I asked Joe, "is that a bet?"  Several hours later, I returned to Joe's room while he was sleeping.  I snuck into his room as quietly as a ninja, and placed a framed picture of my smiling dog on his tray table.  At 2:00am I received a call, from a fifth floor nurse, sarcastically asking me to restrain my patient.  I smiled with accomplishment because I heard Joe laughing hysterically in the background.

Suddenly without warning, the overhead speaker cried out what every health care provider dreads, a Code 500.  A Code 500 was the universal signal for when a patient undergoes cardiac arrest, or if a patient had stopped breathing.  This specific Code 500, was set in motion for a patient in room 3 of the CCU.  Like horses being released from the starting gates, the inner breakfast circle members leaped out of their chairs and immediately sprung into action.  

What I witnessed in that moment could only be defined as awe-inspiring.  All the nurses knew exactly what to do and when to do it.  Almost as if they had ESP and were able to read each other's minds.  Lorna bolted down the west hallway to obtain a crash cart.  John went straight to the drug dispensing unit.  Alma began preparations to draw an arterial blood sample from Joe's right arm.  Patrick gloved up and proceeded to perform CPR chest compressions on Joe; and I followed proper protocol and assisted with the CPR.  The room quickly reached its maximum occupancy as techs and doctors flooded the scene.  The temperature of the room rose as everyone rushed to accomplish their part in the Code.  Just outside the room, there was an x-ray tech dressed in light blue scrubs warming up his machine, a phlebotomist gathering her color coordinated test tubes for blood samples, and a ward clerk darting back and forth as she answered calls and secured test results.  What looked and seemed like chaos, was actually a very well orchestrated event with the attending physician as the conductor.

The fatigue in Patrick's face now grew evident, and sweat ran from his forehead saturating his hair.  Alma desperately feeling for an artery was becoming very aggravated.  John looked as if he prayed for a miracle each time he injected a drug, begging the monitors for a change in vital signals.  Lorna, having placed defibrillator pads on Joe's chest, ordered everyone to stay clear as she began the series of shocks.  The extended beep of the defibrillator pierced through the clamor of the room, everyone paused and diverted their attention to Joe.  The delivered jolt tightened every muscle in Joe's body making him spasm abruptly.  The anticipation that ensued swept up the entire room, everyone gazing upon the heart monitor waiting for a blip.  Fate was unusually cruel this morning; it was not until the fifth cycle of CPR and defibrillating that we were successful in releasing Joe from death's grip.

During the last six hours remaining in my shift, the nurses and I would stabilize Joe many times as he slipped in and out of a Code.  Joe was now classified as a CTD patient; CTD stood for circling the drain.  It would only be a matter of time before Joe's body eventually gives out.  Earlier in the day, the attending physician spoke to Joe's daughter on the phone; he suggested that she and the rest of Joe's family fly in from Maui. 

As I had mentioned previously, fate was unusually cruel that day; Joe had Coded once again.  The nurses again resumed their efforts to resuscitate Joe, and amidst the chaos we were informed of the arrival of Joe's family.  Once Joe was stabilized, his family was allowed to visit.  Joe's daughter, and eight year old granddaughter entered the room in tears.  I felt my heart grow heavy as I witnessed Joe's family openly weeping, his daughters eyes bright red from her briny tears.  Not being able to cope with empathy any longer, Alma and Lorna excused themselves.  I was able to hold my reserve up until Joe's granddaughter grasped his hand and pleaded "grandpa wake up, wake up grandpa!"  Not more than five minutes after their arrival, the continuous sound of a flat line filled the room.  Joe's daughter instantly threw her body onto his and started to wail; Joe's granddaughter unsure of the situation began to cry loudly as well.  Just as the nurses started to intervene, Joe's daughter instructed them to stand down.

The nurses of the CCU fought tirelessly and valiantly that day.  They were not awarded with medals, nor were they publically recognized for their efforts.  Yet, if they were asked to do it all again; those heroes would gladly endure any type of hardship, if it meant giving a family five minutes to say goodbye to a loved one.  Five years ago, on that Sunday morning, I stood on the side lines assisting the nurses as their sidekick; that day I vowed to endure as many hardships as it takes, if it meant evolving into a hero.

_X_Oct. 13W- Intro to Paper #3: Personal Essay. (Confirmation reply required.)
_X_Oct. 18M- Complete readings: all of chapter 12. (Confirmation reply required.)
_X_Oct. 20W- Laulima Discussion 1: “Chimera“
_X_Oct. 22F- Laulima Discussion 2: “Notes of a Native Speaker“
_X_Oct. 25M- Laulima Discussion 3: “Under the Influence“
_X_Oct. 27W- Laulima Discussion 4: “Being Brians“
___Oct. 29F- Laulima Discussion 5: “Warring Memories“ and “Snakebit“
_X_Nov. 1M- RD3 due [50 pts] (Confirmation reply required.)
_X_Nov. 5F- RD3 Evaluations due [50 pts] (No confirmation reply required.)
_X_Nov. 8M- FD3 due [125 pts] (Confirmation reply required.)

Soon to be former sidekick

Timothy Lum

11-2-10

RD3

Soon to be former sidekick

The hour was late, the lower back was aching, and the books on my desk resembled a virus extending over the surface of a cell.  My eyes had developed a mutinous will of its' own.  It planned to shut down all the operations of the body with the single act of an eternal blink.  For the most part, it was successful.  I had now succumbed to total bodily paralysis.  Just as reality started to blur into a dream state, I began to hear a desperate voice cry out.  It sounded as if the voice was approaching me with haste, and each time the words "grandpa wake up, wake up grandpa!" became louder.  Waking up abruptly, I gasped for a breath as if I had been underwater.  I immediately reached for my energy drink and consumed its' contents.  My eyes still fatigued, I was newly filled with an unnatural high as I commenced my studying.  [Thesis]I was determined to evolve from a sidekick, and into a hero.[Thesis]

It was Sunday morning, and I was prompt for my 6:30am shift.  Once the morning coffee kicked in, I started to enjoy the hospital's serene environment.  Many departments did not operate on the weekends, so the normal hustle and bustle of tests and patients were nonexistent that day.  At 9:00am I continued with the last of my morning rounds into the Critical Care Unit (CCU), I was greeted by the usual bare bones Sunday CCU staff.

On a typical weekday, the CCU was normally comprised of seven to eight nurses.  But on that Sunday, the entire CCU was spearheaded by Alma, John, Patrick, and Lorna.  Alma was a petite woman who was always sporting the latest trends.  John was an eight year old trapped inside a grown mans' body.  Patrick was your typical intellectual, someone who was quick with witty remarks, and was always in the know about political issues.  Lorna was the nicest person in the entire hospital, she was also the hardest working person.  I had grown close with the CCU staff over the past two years of my employment, so close that I was accepted into their inner breakfast circle.  In the inner breakfast circle, we would all eat together around a table just like a family would, and our conversations would vary from life to whom we wanted voted off a particular show.  The topic of that morning however, revolved around the elderly patient in room 3.

The patient in room 3, whom I will refer to as Joe Smith, was Lorna's patient.  Just by looking at Joe, you would never have guessed that he was ill.  He could have been described as a man with a strong jaw and a good build.  Joe was what we called a frequent flyer; he was always checking in and out of our hospital.  Initially, Joe was your typical cranky patient that all the nurses wanted to avoid.  He eventually warmed up to the hospital staff after he had lost a bet to me.  

It all started with my first encounter with Joe.  Every nurse and doctor warned me about the new patient in room 505, a mister Joe Smith.  I performed an EKG test on Joe, during the test he was compliant yet a bit grouchy.  While listening to his complaints about the nurses, I also found out he was a Dodgers fan, and consequently named his dog Dodger in honor of his favorite baseball team.  After several conversations about his dog, and how his condition limited his passion for photography; I concluded that I had sufficient rapport with Joe to kindly ask that he cut the nursing staff some slack, and to try smiling more often.  Joe scoffed at my comment saying how he hated being in hospitals, and how no one in the hospital would be able to get him to smile.  Answering back with a bit of defiance in my voice I asked Joe, "is that a bet?"  Several hours later, I returned to Joe's room while he was sleeping.  I snuck into his room as quietly as a ninja, and placed a framed picture of my smiling dog on his tray table.  At 2:00am I received a call from a fifth floor nurse sarcastically asking me to restrain my patient.  I smiled with accomplishment because in the background I could hear Joe laughing hysterically.

Suddenly without warning, the overhead speaker cried out what every health care provider dreads, a Code 500.  A Code 500 was the universal signal for when a patient has undergone cardiac arrest, or if a patient had stopped breathing.  This specific Code 500, was set in motion for a patient in room 3 of the CCU.  Like horses being released from the starting gates, the inner breakfast circle members leaped out of their chairs and immediately sprung into action.  

What I witnessed in that moment could only be defined as awe-inspiring.  All the nurses knew exactly what to do and when to do it, almost as if they had ESP and were able to read each other's minds.  Lorna bolted down the west hallway to obtain the crash cart, John went straight to the drug dispensing unit, Patrick gloved up and proceeded to perform CPR chest compressions on Joe, and Alma began preparations to draw an arterial blood sample from Joe's right arm.  I followed proper protocol and assisted Patrick with CPR.  The room quickly reached its maximum occupancy as techs and doctors flooded the scene.  The temperature of the room rose as everyone rushed around to accomplish their part in the Code.  Just outside the room doors there was the x-ray tech dressed in light blue scrubs warming up his machine, the phlebotomist gathering her color coordinated test tubes ready for blood samples, and the ward clerk darting back and forth as she secured test results and made calls.  What looked and seemed like chaos, was actually a very well orchestrated event with the attending physician as the conductor.  

The fatigue in Patrick's face was now evident, and sweat ran from his forehead saturating his hair.  Alma desperately feeling for an artery was becoming very aggravated; and John looked as if he were praying for a miracle each time as he pushed a drug and looked to the monitors for a change signaling life.  Lorna, having placed defibrillator pads on Joe's chest, ordered everyone to stay clear as she began the series of shocks.  The extended beep of the defibrillator pierced through the clamor of room as everyone paused for a momentary break.  The delivered jolt tightened every muscle in Joe's body making him spasm.  The anticipation that ensued swept up the entire room, as everyone gazed upon the heart monitor waiting for a blip.  Fate was unusually cruel this morning, it was not until the 5th attempt in which we were successful in releasing Joe from death's grip.

For the next six hours remaining in my shift, the nurses and I would stabilize Joe many times as he would slip in and out of a Code.  Joe was classified as a CTD patient, which stood for circling the drain.  It would only be a matter of time before Joe's body eventually gives out.  Earlier in the day, the attending physician spoke to Joe's daughter on the phone; he suggested that she and the rest of Joe's family fly in from Maui.

As I had mentioned previously, fate was unusually cruel that day; Joe had Coded once again.  The nurses again resumed their efforts to resuscitate Joe, and amidst the chaos we were informed of the arrival of Joe's family.  Once Joe was stabilized, his family was allowed to visit.  Joe's daughter, and eight year old granddaughter entered the room in tears.  I felt my heart grow heavy as I witnessed Joe's family openly weeping, his daughters eyes bright red from her briny tears.  Not being able to cope with empathy any longer, Alma and Lorna excused themselves.  I was able to hold my reserve up until the Joe's granddaughter grasped his hand and pleaded "grandpa wake up, wake up grandpa!"  Not more than five minutes after their arrival, the continuous sound of a flat line filled the room.  Joe's daughter instantly threw her body onto his and started to wail; Joe's granddaughter unsure of the situation began to cry loudly as well.  Just as the nurses started to intervene, Joe's daughter instructed them to stand down.

The nurses of the CCU fought tirelessly and valiantly that day.  They were not awarded with medals, nor were they publically recognized for their efforts.  Yet, if they were asked to do it all again, those heroes would gladly endure hardship if it meant giving a family five minutes to say goodbye to a loved one.  That day I stood on the side lines assisting as their sidekicks; that day I vowed to endure as many hardships as it took, if it meant evolving into a hero.