This poem describes a code blue scenario in an ICU. It follows the medical team as they rush to the patient, find her in ventricular fibrillation, and work to resuscitate her through defibrillation attempts and drugs. After minutes of efforts, the inevitable occurs as the patient passes away at 22:10. The poem notes how little is known about the elderly patient's life despite the medical team's efforts to save her.
This poem describes a code blue scenario in an ICU. It follows the medical team as they rush to the patient, find her in ventricular fibrillation, and work to resuscitate her through defibrillation attempts and drugs. After minutes of efforts, the inevitable occurs as the patient passes away at 22:10. The poem notes how little is known about the elderly patient's life despite the medical team's efforts to save her.
This poem describes a code blue scenario in an ICU. It follows the medical team as they rush to the patient, find her in ventricular fibrillation, and work to resuscitate her through defibrillation attempts and drugs. After minutes of efforts, the inevitable occurs as the patient passes away at 22:10. The poem notes how little is known about the elderly patient's life despite the medical team's efforts to save her.
“Code blue, code blue, in I.C.U.” Running, running, every second counts. Rushing, rushing, as the tension mounts.
A pulse, a pulse, do we have a pulse?
“No pulse, no pulse, can’t feel any pulse.” Pump, pump the chest, keep the patient alive. “One and two and three and four and five.”
Get ready to intubate,
We need to oxygenate. Start an IV. check EKG. What’s her medical history?
Rhythm? What’s the rhythm? “It’s V-fib.”
Charge up the paddles; get ready to de-fib. Everyone cleared? Paddles on, buzz-boom. Charge to the max. All cleared? Buzz-boom.
Buzz, buzz, drugs, drugs,
Drugs, drugs, buzz, buzz, Plan A, plan B, plan C, plan D, All to get her heart to beat.
Minutes like sand slip through the fingers.
Everyone knows that the inevitable is near. What time is it? “Twenty-two ten.” Is that really when she meets her end? Family, pacing in the waiting room, Hopes to be spared of the news of doom. One look as the doctor walks in, They know that the verdict is in.
She has lived to eighty-five.
We don’t know much about her life. Was she rich or poor, mean or kind? It’s all the same: just one flat line.