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.