Well it finally happened, after 2 years in the hopsital. It was a code blue and I came onto a scene with about 20 people trying to save a life. I always thought Id be really nervous, but I wasnt. Being one who openly admits to not being very "high speed," I was kinda shocked how calm I was watching several rotations of CPR.
It wasnt as sad as I thought it would be. I know that sounds terrible, but that body was done. That heart was done beating. It absolutely sucked to see the family, but the actual death wasnt as mind-blowing as I thought it would be. I do remember thinking of Jeff and praying that wasnt how either one of us goes.
I never realized how hard a person has to work to do the job of a small, but incredible heart. It was insane. Healthy, full grown men sweating and panting as they tried to keep this soul alive. By no means did I think it was a futile effort, but I couldnt help but consider how easily a person keeps himself alive, and much effort it takes out of a person to try to "run" someone else.
I, sitting there tapping on my belly as I wait there (I was completely useless, but we have to stay in case they need anything blood-wise), I realized that I kind of dont matter much. My thoughts on the whole thing didnt matter. As I got out of the way of the family, I saw what I interpretted as a dread- almost a 'this is it' look on their faces. No one appreciates their family enough- but for a second- I could.
I walked past the room on my way out, and didnt even look in. I wasnt curious. I still to this day have not seen a truly dead body. Like this person, I saw the team stop CPR, but I didnt see the actual moment. I didnt need to. It was their moment. I was busy thinking about the supernatural kindness in and around people that is way too easily lost.
The possibility to be kind to that person dies with them. You could never hold that hand, and you could never make that heart feel warm. That soul was gone. In my opinion someone can never be loved too much
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