Code Blue

To see the blue light flashing above a hospital doorway is an eery thing. There isn't time to think much other than "go." Last week it happened as I was finishing up in one room and taking off my blue plastic gown (the ones that both protect me from hospital bugs and cause me to lose a half gallon of sweat every time I put one on.) I heard the alarm, poked my head out the door and saw the light. I called  to my co-worker, a Respiratory Therapist (RT), who was talking to the patient in the room we were in. "Jake, Code Blue, let's go!" and we ran the 20 yards or so to the room.

By then the family were standing outside the room, a nurse was trying to find a pulse, the RT ran in to get the equipment ready to bag him, and I did the functions that are my role in this situation. I am not a nurse so there are about six things I can do -  record the events (code blue 10:14 am, CPR began 10:16, 1 dose of Atripene 10:20 etc), do chest compressions, bag, open the cart drawers and hand meds to the nurses, get calls out to doctors to get them on the line with the charge nurse, stand with the family for support, pick up trash (you wouldn't believe how much trash a Code can  generate. People are opening meds and IV fluids and discarding the trash on the floor behind them.)  Behind me came in about five more people to do their roles.

In this case once the crash cart was in place and I had the recording chart set up and handed off to a nurse I went to be with the family outside the door. This particular turn happened unexpectedly so the wife and daughter were pretty freaked out. Get a chair, put an arm around, give encouragement, watch.
Wait.

In this case the waiting was very short lived. Whatever the cause of this man's sudden unresponsiveness and lack of heartbeat he came out of it quickly before any drugs were given or any CPR needed. One minute it was full steam ahead and then it was like, "Hey, he's ok. Look, he's waving at you." And with that, everyone pulled off their blue gowns and gloves, packed up the crash cart and filed out back to their normal work stations.

The only problem was that the family was still freaked out (understandably!). Sensing a need for the tension to break I said, "Well, now you know how many and how fast everyone runs when there is a problem!" and they laughed and took a deep breath and you could see the fright drain and the adrenaline start to leave their bodies. I hugged them and led them back in - and I knew I'd done my job well in that moment.


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A side-note about CPR. It ain't pretty or neat. If you're doing it right you usually break their ribs and sometimes their sternum. And it is exhausting. We usually have three people who rotate in and out doing compressions because it is so tiring. The last code I participated in (before this one) was 1 hour and 20 minutes long. That is a LONG time. Compressions, drugs, IV fluids, analyze heart activity, repeat. He lived, but coded again that night and was revived again. The next morning, and before he coded a third time, his family decided to sign a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate). His journey ended shortly afterwards.