to the man whose face i never saw

we stood in a semi-circle
waiting for you.
they rolled you in
pounding, pounding, pounding.
on your chest.

in the corner i stood,
never was one more
a fly on the wall
than me.
i saw it all.
pen in hand.
yellow notepad.
my job was to scribble. scribble. scribble.
everything i heard....

27 year old male.
epinephrine times seven.
he said ten minutes ago.
it's 1050 now.

tall man in blue suit.
pounding on your chest.
down. up, down. pound, pound, pound.

atropine. duoneb.
what are those drugs?
calcium. magnesium.
those can be used for the heart?
history of asthma.
collapsed in driveway.
you were on your way here.

purple scrubs. middle aged woman.
down, up, down. pound, pound, pound.

cordarone.
how do i spell that?
epi-pen
twice by family, IM.

man in green scrubs,
badge dangling over your body-

why do you have an epi-pen?

up, down. up, down. pound, pound, pound.

twelve minutes of CPR
before the ambulance came.
they found you in PEA.
he thinks he heard breath sounds on scene.
atropine.
what is atropine?

x-ray. ultrasound.
pound, pound, pound.
never stopping.

at the computer,
the lead nurse is typing.
“how many milligrams?”
“what size tube?”

the pounding arms get weary.
the second blue-suited man
moves fluidly to your side.
with a towel around his neck,
(he’s getting a work-out)
he moves his body
down, up, down.
over you, his hands go 
pound, pound, pound.

pound. pound. pound.
down, up, down.
with each impact of coupled fists,
I see, side to side,
your protuberant mass shift..

another nurse. he is pulling off your pants.
"do we have any scissors?"
naked.
you're all naked.
will someone please cover him up?
they keep pounding on your chest.
and the bag-valve mask goes,
pump. pump. pump.

i say nothing, but the nurse sees what i mean.
naked. you’re all naked.
except the blanket now covering your groin.
a small sign of respect.

your doctor is by your side.
you’ve never met him.
he's trying to save your life.

"a sterile gown!"
over his suit and tie.
shoes only a little more mature
than convers
peep out beneath his pants.

everyone gets a turn.
now it’s curly ponytail girl, in her green scrubs.
she moves down, up, down.
her hands go, pound, pound, pound.

blade and scissors in hand,
your doctor cuts into your side.
your blood on his hands.
he's trying to save your life.

“it’s been 45 minutes,” he says
“5 more and he’s dead.”
and as an afterthought,
“he’s already dead”
...by definition.

your body moves up, down, up,
with each fists’ pound, pound, and pump, pump.


until the doctor is at your side,
ultrasound in hand.
the pounding and pumping stop.
all voices stop.he finds
your blood flow has stopped.

blood on his sterile gown,
blood on his outstretched hands-
he turns-
facing the nurses, the techs, and the EMTs
(and the random hospitalist, too):
“does anyone have any more ideas?”

silence.

1102.

backwards superstition, hearts, and some other thoughts

As of today, it's been one year since Roo passed away.
It's hard to believe it. It seems ike it's been such a long time... and yet a year really is quite short. I am an age she will never be. I have done, and will continue to do things, she will never do.
Perhaps there is a goal in life to see how much of our hearts we can give away. What good does our own heart do the world if we keep it to ourselves? But if we give pieces of it to different people, then when we part ways, those people still carry a part of our hearts. We may feel a pain at that piece being carried far away, but it would be good to remember also that we ourselves recieve portions of other peoples' hearts in return... perhaps with those pieces we are given, we can reconstruct our own, so that our heart becomes a patchwork quilt of the lives we have touched and have been touched by.
That idea sounds good to me. It sounds somewhat romantic, and probably a bit silly. Nonetheless, I like it.
I do not hurt for Roo herself-- she is happy, I am sure-- but rather I hurt for the missing of her. For the time I have spent and will have to spend without her. She has a sizeable chunk of my heart. In return, however, she has nestled herself a tender spot in mine.
That is how it should be, I think. By the end of our lives, our hearts will reflect so much about us. The condition of our hearts will reflect the choices we've made. I think also, though, that how much of our hearts we have given away will be important. And we will hold very dearly (treasure) the pieces of other peoples' hearts given to us.
So, what do you call this day? An anniversary of death? But I recognize it to celebrate a life...
Last Friday was the 7th anniversary of Roo's bone marrow transplant. She recieved the transplant in June of the year 2000 on Friday the 13th. She did things her own way, and where Friday the 13th was concerned, she was superstitious backwards: she considered it a lucky day. That specific day was definately a special one, with a solid miracle.
I wanted to do something special on these days, to remember Roo by. Well, I had a Red Cross appointment today to start volunteering... does that count? Eh, I don't think so much. However, a week from this Friday I'll job shadow at Children's in the oncology ward. So it's not on the 13th or 18th- it's coming up, and I'm excited. I just hope I won't get emotional or anything. I did fine in the Ped's ICU... but then again, I didn't interact much with kids that reminded me of Roo. We'll see how it goes. And-- if I come home at the end of the day and bawl, that's just fine. Every once in a while, a good bawl is called for. I think it has something to do with the heart.

So, Roo... here are some thoughts for you. Thank you for being a sister to me. Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for your patience with me. Understanding, sympathy, and empathy. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, beliefs, feelings, and most of all- your heart-, with me. Thank you for helping me to grow. And thank you for the mark you left on me which will be with me throughout the entire rest of my life. In this way, you are still in my life, and I in yours, I'm sure. I pray for you often, and think of you even more. I hope for your happiness, and for the happiness of those dear to you. You continue to be an amazing example to me, and a cherished friend.
God be with you till we meet again. :)
Love,
~Cassanndre

the end of an era

Okay, I should have written something on this by now, but I haven't been able to get my thoughts aligned to anywhere where I felt like I could write something down about it.
Despite the shock and surprise I felt when I learned President Hinckley passes away, I felt it was right. He's been heading in this direction for awhile, and I think he knew it. I wouldn't put it past him to be excited for it. I know I'd be excited to go to heaven and see the love of my life again.
He will be sore missed. I am old enough that I was alive during one or two previous prophets' times, but young enough to not remember them. I have grown up in this church with President Hinckley at its head- under the direction of our Savior, Jesus Christ, of course.
He was described as "cute". It's true. He was very cute. Honestly, I don't think I could look at a picture of any other prophet or apostle, and think them as cute as Pres. Hinckley. Impressively, he had the ability to pull off being both "cute" and powerful at the same time.
Powerful, in the sense of- called by God, and ordained to act in His name for the sake of everyone on the Earth.
I'm grateful for his example, leadership, laughs, and love.
Gordon B. Hinckley was- and is- truly a great man.
I will miss him.