Pong Pong Code Blue
A woman, young, with small children,
pain so deep that liver and renal failure
could not keep her away from the alcohol
that dulled her ache.
Pulses back
nurses and doctors and techs
working frantically in astronaut-like helmets or
in respirators that resemble insects.
Blood pressure too low
a body that just wants to escape
stabilizes
Bleeding internally. Brain injury.
Husband concedes - DNR.
And before she is whisked away
to the ICU where her family will
eventually take her off life-support
in a day or two when
the futility is absorbed another . . .
Pong Pong Code Blue
A man, young, with small children
pain so deep that one bottle of pills
was not enough.
CPR is violent, abusive to the body
staff are desperately trying to save.
Depress the chest at least two inches
for at least one hundred times a minute.
Hair bobs, faces sweat,
flesh ripples with each depression
dormant arms flop.
Ten more seconds. Pulse check. Resume CPR
Plastic packaging crinkles as drugs
and syringes join and are handed through the door.
Epinephrine. Bicarb. Adrenaline. Lidocaine.
Voices muffled by protective gear
trying to be heard as instructions and
information are thrown across the room -
across a body stubbornly trying to slip away.
How long has it been?
Crack - a rib is broken.
Crack - the sternum gives way.
Two inches down .
One hundred times a minute.
Blood backs up in the breathing tube
from injured lungs.
How long has it been?
Ten more seconds until pulse check.
Resume CPR.
Sweat glistens on flushed faces
As staff take turns.
Two inches down.
One hundred times per minute.
Pulse check.
Call it.
A woman, in her 20’s, with small children
is a now a widow.
Her wails fill the room
pressing against physician and chaplain,
suffocating all attempts to console.
“What was he thinking?”
“I’m fucking 27 years old!”
Extubation. Comfort Care
Upstairs two nurses stand vigil
holding the hands of a dying patient.
Family left, saying they could not
bear to watch
so two nurses, tears soaking
their cloth masks watch.
No one dies alone
so they bear witness to his final breath.
“He was so kind to us.”
“He was a lovely man.”
Another COVID statistic
and before the IV poles are emptied
or the monitors are removed
the “cart” is brought up
to carry him to the morgue.
“We need the room.”
Shoulders slump and tremble
as they express their own wails.
They are so tired.
They are so drained.
Too many deaths.
Too many times.
COVID death - 1
COVID collateral death - 2
Hours until end of shift - 4
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