July 5, 2016

“MSET, north patient tower, seven twenty six; MSET, north patient tower, seven twenty six; MSET, north patient tower, seven twenty six.”

The room was crowded. The crash cart, our nurses, the tech, the unit director who happened to be visiting that day, and the rapid response team were all huddled over the patient. The director, in his expensive suit covered by the garish yellow isolation gown, was searching for a pulse and poised to begin chest compressions. Amidst the general frenzy and the instructions being barked there was a profound couple of seconds of silence as we all came to realize there was no pulse. The nurse in charge had at some point notified the team of the patient’s advance directive which dictates that we cannot attempt resuscitation. It was anticlimactic in a way; all the adrenaline racing through and fueling an effort we could not pursue. Soon the room was emptied until it was just the lifeless body of the patient covered with a sheet and the bleary-eyed charge nurse restoring the crash cart.

All I could think was, “God, I wish I could have been a part of that…”, and I was, but not in a significant way–I was still a neonate (not even a fledgling) in my teal as I stared at the crimson and white of the professionals.

But I think there could not have been a more pertinent display of the nature of God imparted to man. There were so many people rushing to save one life, so much effort. When one patient begins crashing or we are anticipating the reception of a critical patient, the entire hospital is notified. If He had not put this noble nature in us there would not be a health profession; that there exist careers dedicated to saving lives is evident of the [com]passionate love of Christ. The very instinct to preserve and protect a life is not human, no matter how good a person we as individuals may think we are.


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