(seven weeks ago)
I held the coolness of the Levophed and fentanyl IV drips against my flushed cheek and considered taking the stairs. Mentally, I mapped the route I'd have to take to reach TRU but without much success. It had been a long day. Maybe volunteering to deliver stat drips wasn't a great idea when you barely knew the layout of the hospital. But the evening tech had had to leave early and the trauma pharmacist training me tonight had been bogged down with orders and issues. So when the call came from the trauma resuscitation unit for meds needed asap, I volunteered to deliver them. The relieved smile the other pharmacist had sent my direction had been gratifying, but more importantly it meant a brief but welcome reprieve from the madness of the Shock Trauma inpatient pharmacy.
As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I leaned against the pink tiled wall and examined the coffee stain on my lab coat and scrubs testifying to my clumsiness. Sighing, I made a mental note to do laundry when I got home.
At last the elevator pinged, and the stainless steel doors quietly swished open.
Getting off on the second floor, I searched for signs to direct me. My memory - already saturated from last week's training - drew a blank; it seemed like signs were posted for everywhere except where I was headed.
I stopped a young, fresh-faced intern rushing by, and feeling foolish, asked for directions. He glanced at my name badge, smiled and pointed to wooden double doors behind me. I was standing outside the TRU and hadn't even realized it.
Embarrassed, I smiled and nodded my thanks.
Swiping my badge for access, I stepped back as the double doors swung open to reveal a scene of utter chaos.
Only moments before, a multiple gunshot victim had been flown in and transported down from the rooftop helipad on a stretcher. A team of doctors and nurses swarmed around his bed as a state trooper and two EMTs stood by and dispassionately observed.
The lead trauma surgeon for that team barked orders to nurses whom promptly obeyed.
Reluctant to interrupt during these crucial minutes, I took in my surroundings as I waited for the urgency of the situation to lessen before seeking out the nurse assigned to the patient whose drips I had brought.
Monitors beeped a desperate tune as harsh fluorescent lights illuminated the unit's state-of-the-art equipped bays. Almost every bay was occupied with critically ill patients, but at this moment, attention was focused on the newest arrival as the medical team worked furiously to revive the man and stabilize his vitals.
From where I quietly observed, I could see part of the left side of his body - or what was visible apart from the tubing, oxygen mask, gauze, and other paraphernalia. He was of slender build in his early to mid-thirties, sandy blonde hair plastered to his forehead. He'd been stripped bare and a white logo-stamped hospital sheet covered the lower portion of his body. His pale white skin had a bluish-gray tinge that whispered of death. Traces of what appeared to be dried blood matted his chest hair and left arm.
So this is what happens when someone is shot or injured in an automobile accident and flown here, I thought.
Watching on television paled in comparison to witnessing it first hand. I found myself wondering about him, the life he had lived so far... whether he had a family, children...
God, please let him make it.
I didn't know him personally of course, but it didn't matter. As I silently prayed, a sense of déjà vu overtook me. Flashbacks clouded my vision and I found myself momentarily transported back in time. The dark night… the lightening and thunder… pleading to slow down… the shrill laughter, screech of tires, then the crash… minutes stretching into eternity…red and blue lights flashing, but more red... red everywhere… the paramedic's siren wailing, drowning silent screams...
I stood transfixed by the despair and helplessness that gripped me. The pounding of my heartbeat reverberated in my ears, drowning out the surrounding din.
'Hello? Excuse me, I said is there something I can help you with?'
Jolted back to reality, I realized the voice was directed at me. Easing my death grip on the side rail on the wall, I breathed deeply and willed my heart to slow down. Turning, I focused on the pretty blonde nurse looking on in concern.
'Are you ok?'
I brushed the back of my hand across my face, reined in the demons, and summoned a half smile.
'Yes... yes I'm fine... thank you. I'm... from Pharmacy. I'm looking for the nurse for this patient...”
*****
I don't know if the man made it, I didn't investigate. The evening pharmacist reassured me that it was difficult at first but I would soon become accustomed to people dying. His reassurances were well meant and he was probably right, but I wondered if I could ever really detach myself enough to become immune to the implications of death. Part of me prayed I could, but part of me hoped not.Later that evening while driving home, I called my family to tell them I loved them. I thought to myself how we sometimes place so much importance on trivial things that matter so little in the greater scheme of things. How we chase waterfalls and neglect to appreciate the beauty of rivers and lakes around us. How we take for granted blessings in our life or consider them our due, and forget that everything we cherish can be taken away in an instant.
That night after preparing for bed, I prayed for those who have passed on, and peace for loved ones left behind who still grieve - for the mothers who mourn a lost child, the orphans who wander through life lost without parents to guide and teach them, the widowers who even after decades continue to faithfully cherish memories of their beloved.
I prayed for guidance to help me make the most of my time in this duniya and to prepare for the Akhirah. And, struggling to keep the memories at bay, I prayed for oblivion to overtake me as I restlessly drifted off to sleep.
