Code (part 2) posted 6/20/2009 1:32:19 PM | 5 kudos what's this?     report abuse

PsychoMagnet

Some folks call it a crash cart. Others call it a code cart. If you're a patient and need one, you won't care what it's called. You'll never give the cart a thought. I think of little else when I'm on cart duty. If I think I have a cart that's not in order, I think of nothing else. That Monday as I weaved my way through the hospital, I found my carts to be in good order. My mood elevated as the morning went along and I attributed that to the combination of finding things in order and getting out of the department for a spell.

“I like working with people; I just don't want to work on people”.

That was the line I used on them during my job interview. And it's a statement I stand by to this day. Not only do I have no patient contact, I have little contact with anyone who does have patient contact. Occasionally, I'll have a discussion with a surgeon in the OR regarding instrumentation, but it's usually a very short exchange and then I just go back downstairs and wait for my ass to grow back.

Code cart duty is different. I don't really interact with the staff in all the departments other than to explain why I'm there, but I do get to see them at work – see how the other half lives. I wouldn't trade place with any of them, but I was fascinated as to how the gals in ER were so calm and collected and seemingly enjoying an atmosphere that I found almost intolerable for the 10 minutes I was there. And then there was Pulmonary Rehab where old folks exercised on gym equipment while a nurse monitored and Elvis sang Hawaiian music through the sound system. The patients were sweating but smiling. I worked very quickly through the cart as it was time for my smoke break.

After lunch, I walked to Outpatient Oncology. It's the longest walk I've ever made without actually going outside. It's a completely different building and walks as if it's in a different zip code, but walkways provided a cool smooth surface for my journey. The striking thing to me in both the radiology and chemotherapy part of the building was the mood of both the staff and the patients. Smiles and laughter were both plentiful and unexpected. I completed both the code carts and headed back to the main part of the hospital.

I read somewhere once that in the strictest scientific terms there is no such thing as “cold”. There is only “absence of heat”. In the Oncology station within the hospital, there is an absence of laughter. I found the cart to be in order except for a trach tube that would be out of date in three weeks. I was comforted to know the cart was up to date and just exactly when it would expire. From my legal pad, I glanced over at a father walking slowly up the hall with his son that I judged to be 9 or 10 years old. Kids can't act. The boy was fighting it with all he had but could neither hide his pain nor his tears. Even at his age, I could always spit it out – keep a stiff upper lip, but then, I never made a visit like the one he had just made. I quickly glanced back at my notes. I did this out of respect. I kept my upper lip. But in that moment, if I had the power to trade places with whoever that boy just visited, I wouldn't have hesitated for a second.

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Blogs by PsychoMagnet: The Final Post (part 2) The Final Post (part 1) MacPsycho's Park My Girl Why Can't We Be Friends? Boom A Blog Longer* Than Misschoos** Untitled My Blog, My Friend My Blog, My Bitch Code (end) Code (part 2) Code (part 1) The Rat Pack & Pack Rats T & A . . . gone tomorrow Blogging is Very Sweet, Brother . . . An Open Letter to the President of the United States Everyone Has One . . . Here's Mine 12 Days of Psycho (Day 12) 12 Days of Psycho (Day 11) 12 Days of Psycho (Day 10) 12 Days of Psycho (Day 9) 12 Days of Psycho (Day 8) 12 Days of Psycho (Day 7)