Pressure Drop

On the way to work today I listened to this song- Pressure Drop by Toots & the Maytals (the guys who invented the word reggae, literally) and little did I know I was about to witness pressure drop in a whole other way.

At approximately 2:00pm I went in to check on Mr. D for our afternoon therapy session. His breathing was heavy, labored- even a little more than usual for him. He appeared anxious, attempting to get out of bed. I checked with the nurse, she said the PA had just been in 15 minutes earlier to examine him and okayed him. I checked his vitals- O2 Sat 86%, HR 138, BP-116/70. Desaturating to 86 on 2 liters of oxygen while lying in bed and elevated resting heart rate- two major red flags! "Get the PA back in here now!" The secretaries paged the PA out of meeting, we checked him out together. We asked him if he was in pain- "No" he responded, then attempted to get out of bed again. She agreed that his situation was worsening. "Let's get respiratory in here." She ran out to call his MD, I stayed with him. I held his hands. He began to gasp for air and looking up and off to the right. "Call a code!" CODE BLUE ROOM 334B. CODE BLUE ROOM 334B, 3A North.

Everything began to fall away. Every PA and doc in the house came running. CPR began, but he never regained a pulse. That was it. He was gone.

And so was I, somewhere between witnessing the present situation and flashing back to the last time I saw a full code in a hospital. Suddenly I was 15 again, watching my mom slip away. As Mr. D's family came rushing in- screaming & in panic mode, I lost it. Midge and Joan walked me down to the hall to the OT office, their hands on my back, supporting me. I flashed to walking down the aisle at my mom's funeral, with gentle loving hands supporting me, ushering me, comforting me. I settled down into the present moment again with a cup of tea and some humor- a powerful combination. Then went for a walk with my supervisor. The fresh air and kind words of advice helped, "This may take to you to a deep dark place, but allow yourself to go there and come back. Refill the well. Take the time." I needed to hear that.

Before I left for the day, I met with the family. I let them know his last words, his show of strength in attempting to get out of bed, his feeling of no pain, and that he was with someone who really cared about him before he passed.

Rest in peace, Mr. D.