Epi.....

I feel I should start this post from the beginning, which, in this case, started with my "double the dose" Rockstar energy drink springing a leak in my bag, so I drank the whole thing on the way to work. For those of you who are "energy drink" addicts...you can relate to the following feelings.
I don't drink them all the time because my heart will have random pauses a bit more than I would like when I take that much caffeine. I know most of you nurses are thinking "shouldn't that make your heart go faster?" For most people. Not me. I brady down to the 30's. Fun. Asymptomatic. But I can feel it and I'm aware of it. Anyhow, not the point. And I usually take all day to drink one, and I usually share most of it with my co-workers.
So here I am at work, practically bouncing down the hall, I already have my meds and am in my first patients room and it's only 7:28. Wow, right? Until I hear that overhead beep, you know the one, and hold my breath as I listen to
".........Code Blue...............
...................3 West.........................
................Room 354...........................
Code Blue..........................."
Telling my still sleepy patient "I'll be right back," as politely and unrushed sounding as I could pull off, I stepped out of the room and ran, in about 3 steps, around the corner to where there was indeed a code blue. On the floor. Not in the bed. With 3 people trying to lift her back into bed. That's when that heart drop feeling hits, cause I know this patient. She's the one I didn't think we should have ever started chemo on.
Grabbing gloves (the last 2 in the box, of course) I started yelling orders, "Get me some more gloves! You, get the crash cart! You, get an o2 tank in here!"
By now we have the lady in the bed at least, which is a huge plus if you're having a code, and a crowd has gathered around the door.
Usually on oncology floors, we are not suprised by death. We make it a comfortable thing that we, with our patients, can manage and make the best possible scenario. Not this time. It caught us by suprise. We aren't used to it. A lot of us are stunned by it and have a hard time pulling ourselves away from the the scene to actually do something.
So I started breaking her ribs. That's what happens when you start CPR compressions.
The right doctor appeared magically, or so it seemed, and we really got things going. Someone took over for me doing the compressions. We got the fluids going, got her hooked up to the leads, started pacing her, got her intubated, and........got a heart beat back!!!!
Codes sometimes fly by, and after a half hour that felt like about half a minute, we wheeled her off the floor to take her to the ICU. I think that was when I blinked, and realized how bad I was shaking.
We give our patients epinepherine in an asystole kind of code. We gave it to her. It feels like we all get some too.
Afterward, for about the next half hour or so, I felt invinciable. Alive. Thriving. Flying. Reminded how fickle life can be. Proven, once again, how lucky I am. How lucky we all are.
Maybe it was the Rockstar. I sure felt like one.
Standing side by side with "The Doctor", being part of an amazing team, working towards a common goal of defeating death, it's a rush. It's a revelation every time. I don't think that ever changes.
My patient was the same age as my grandmother.
Don't you think I didn't go straight to see her and tell her I love her and how lucky I am to have her.
I love my job. I appreciate my family and friends. It is good to be me. Things like that are profound reminders.