Last Hope

There is a time and a place for everything on Earth; but right here, right now was not going to be one of those time because I won't let it be. This is why:

The 911 call came over late in the afternoon, 16 month old child non-responsive. These are the calls we dread the most. The knot in my stomach twists as Chris drives, sometimes no matter what we do, how fast we go, the drive seems never ending. Silence in the cab as we follow the chatter on the radio, voices coming over all of them identical in that sirens are screaming in their backgrounds as they run the same race we are. It does not matter who you are, which department you are from: FIRE, SO, PD, EMS, when you hear the kid calls you just GO...

Today a student nurse rides with us, she is in the back riding on the jumpseat and trying to absorb it all. When I glance back into the cabin I see that she has turned sideways in the seat so that she can watch out the front as we go. She seems to be hanging in there, not getting carsick which can happen from time to time if you are not use to this.

Pulling into the residential neighborhood I can see the distant flicker of lights from a fire engine heading toward us. Parked ahead helter skelter along the curb are two police cruisers: one black and white, the other from the county. Lights are on, doors not completely closed as their occupants left in a hurry. I unclip my seatbelt and ready myself for my own sprint, but as Chris pulls up we see the front door of the home swing open and out runs a Sheriff's Deputy with the infant in his arms heading straight for us. Chris climbs out to intercept, I grab equipment from the compartments on my side and run to open up the rear doors, tumbling in with Chris on my heels.

It isn't good. Chris and I go thru the motions, searching, trying to find some way somehow to revive the life in this child, but in our hearts we already know the truth. Regardless I bark commands and we are soon underway. Someone from FIRE drives our rig, the deputy leads the way thru traffic, and the police car follows. The student nurse is still with us, cardiac equipment has displaced her from her seat and she stands in the side stairwell safely out of the way. She still watches, not saying a word.

As the ambulance weaves thru traffic Chris and I continue CPR. I am physically up on the stretcher doing compressions, Chris is at my shoulder bagging. I hear the sound of his voice, inches from my ear, softly praying for this child and her family. This murmured sound is as familiar to me as anything we do, Chris and I are of the same mind and beliefs; which is partly why we work so well together. He isn't just praying for himself, he is praying on both of our behalves.

"She's dead isn't she?" the nursing student asks quietly, her face looking troubled. I look up at her now, we'd all but forgotten her in the course of things, she has watched closely and stayed out of the way during crisis which is just what every good nursing student should do. I nod my head and tilt it over to the bench seat that runs along the side of the rig. "Edie" moves off the steps and slides onto the seat beside us.

"When do you quit Rox? When do you call it over?"

The murmuring voice at my shoulder ceases. Chris is that close to me as we work together and I hear him give a sigh. "Trade places," I ask him never missing a beat. Chris moves in beside me to switch places. He positions and resumes where I left off, starting the set and picking up the count while I turn my attention to bagging, and back to Edie.

....."Yes, she is gone," I say sadly. "She has been for a while, nothing will change that."
....."Then why...?" Edie asks. "To save her organs for donation?"
....."That's always a possibility. There is something more important though."

Edie looks at me and I can see that she doesn't understand. Doesn't see...

....."Look over Chris's shoulder, out the back doors. Tell me what you see."
....."A police car."
....."Yes, and this little one's Mama is riding in that car. She is watching everything we do thru those back windows. She doesn't know what we know. She hopes and prays that we can save her baby... She is clutching that belief to her heart right now; we are her Last Hope and we are not going to take that away from her. The truth will come soon enough Edie, until that time we will keep that hope alive for her."

Edie nods in understanding and drops her head, looking away, perhaps trying to hide tears. Right now she does not quite get the full picture, the full scope of what working in the medical field means. This is a lesson not found in any textbook, its one that only time can teach. She rode with us today to learn but I know she never anticipated this. There is a hell of a lot more to it than being able to start a line on the fly, or quickly assess and treat on-scene. We don't just bandage and brace, sometimes we have to scoop and run as was the case today. Yes, we handle the needs of our patients, but we also must remember their families needs as well. It's a balancing act of sorts. In many people's minds they think that somone (us) will step in and save the day, that we can make everything right again. I wish it were that easy, that simple, and that the world really worked that way. Still amazes and sometimes scares me to think that people look to me to be that person for them. Me! Sometimes we succeed, sometimes we fail and nothing can change that fact. All we can do is our best, and never give up on hope.

When its all over, the run complete and the aftermath sorted out, Edie calls her instructor, and then begs off the rest of the day. It's okay we understand and yes, it's okay to cry too. We wish you good luck Edie, wherever you wind up. The lesson you learned with us today may have been the most important one yet. Someday you too will understand.