It's 6pm over here. Sweltering heat, until the blessed merciful rain came.
I looked at the weather forecast over there in Minnesota. Apparently it was as low as -17 C. A foot of snow, my housemate told me (thank gawd I'm not having to shovel that. Bwahaha)
I catch myself wondering right now, if Mr. X and Mr Y
are still alive. Chances are they're both deceased.
Peacefully, I hope. Because having to code Mr. X would be disastrous. Truly disastrous. And perhaps partially for my own selfish reasons too; I'd hate to be the one doing chest compressions, because you know you're going to be squishing out GI secretions from his enterocutaneous fistulae.
For whatever reason, when I was napping just now, I dreamt about my very last code. 8 months ago. Elderly lady with PEA (pulseless electrical activity). I dreamt about how NS and I worked on her for 15 mins. And just as we were gonna quit, her rhythm and pulses return. Except by the time I evaluated her during the MICU admission, I find her pupils dilated and unresponsive. Absent brainstem reflexes. And so, after all that work, we told the family she'd never come back. I had to request her husband's permission to shut off the ventilator.