E.R.

Today was my third trip to the Mission Community Hospital Emergency Room since August 14th. The first two were with my dad, and today's was with Mrs. Holycoast (scroll down the page a bit to see how all that turned out). None of them were much fun, but I have to admit it's a fascinating experience to spend a few hours in such a place.

The area is fairly open and you hear a lot of stuff about the other cases on the ward. Awhile after we got there I heard a nurse talking about an incoming trauma involving a kid hit by a car. The story is here, and I'm glad to say the last I heard he was banged up but doing pretty well.

The second case did not have such a happy ending. We've all seen TV hospital shows like E.R. or even SCRUBS, in which the dreaded words "CODE BLUE!" are uttered, followed by a frenetic gathering of doctors and nurses all trying to save the victim. On TV the handsome young doctor usually shouts "CLEAR"!, shocks the victim back to life, and he then gets up off the table, gets dressed, pays his bill, and goes home to his happy family.

It doesn't usually work that way.

Maybe an hour or so after we checked in an elderly man was brought by paramedics into the room next door. We were separated only by a partial wall and a curtain, so we could hear everything going on in there.

At first everything seemed fairly normal, but over the next 45 minutes or so the voices next door seemed to increase in urgency and intensity. It became obvious that a health crisis was developing and options were becoming fewer. A "CODE SEPSIS" was called, and that brought in other doctors to try and deal with the problem. Within a few minutes they were getting ready to intubate due to his depressed respiration. Things went from bad to worse.

Orders were being given and responded to, and then I heard a doctor say "someone hit the CODE BLUE button". Alarms started going off at the nurse's station, the overhead P.A. chimed and the voice said "CODE BLUE E.R. ROOM 1!" The battle was fully engaged now.

However, within a minute or so the family who was present called it off.

A doctor said "the family says stop". The room calmed. He then thanked all the professionals who had come to help, and it was over, this whole drama taking place maybe 15 feet from where we were.

The gentleman apparently was in the final stages of cancer and the family made the courageous decision to let nature take its course. I know what that feels like, because we had to make a similar call just over a month ago. My heart went out to the wife and daughter who had to witness that. It was a difficult reminder of our own family's recent events.

I have to say that every person we've dealt with in our recent visits to Mission Hospital were just as nice and professional as can be, from the people who cleaned the rooms, to the aides, techs, nurses and doctors. I always felt we were in the best of hands.

However, if I never spend another day in that hospital I'll be very, very happy.