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.)