20 minutes after I wrote the previous message, the pager (clipped on my T-shirt) made a screeching sound. I pressed the button with a shaky hand and the words “code Blue, room 616” appeared. Code blue: a heart stopped. Nurses and doctors trying to revive a patient. Looming death. I was supposed to call back the number on the pager, but no number showed , just the room number. What should I do? Reluctantly (it was almost midnight) I called Greg, my supervisor. He always said we could call him at any time. Indeed, Greg answered – though I could tell I woke him up. “Call the nurse supervisor” he said. At this station, a nurse that knows everything that happens in this huge hospital. “Yes, come in, she said. I am calling the family right now.”
I jumped in my car. I prayed as I could, broken words through the many fears I was experiencing. Above all, I was afraid of not being able to face whatever was over there. When I arrived at the room of the patient, I found out that he had been revived and he was being transferred in critical care unit. His family was on their way. I look at the nurses and doctors busy around the unconscious young man. I was impressed. One of the nurses approached me. «There is another one» she said, pointing to another room. “He just died. The family is coming».
A few minutes later, the mother of the patient and his girlfriend arrived in tears. The nurses introduced them into his room and I followed them, hoping to be useful, maybe pray with them. “Get out please!” the girlfriend shouted. I left the room, realizing my mistake. This moment was theirs. I should have not been there without being invited. A few minutes later, a nurse went in and told them about the circumstances of the death. He died peacefully – they were supposed to make a decision the next day about taking him off life support. “They would like a prayer now” the nurse told me.
I came in – the patient’s room was large, filled with silent machines. I noticed in a corner colored balloons with “Happy Father’s Day” written on them. I sat down by the mother who was crying silently. I suddenly started crying too – I did not see that coming. I needed several minutes before being able to speak. Then I started praying. I talked about the presence of God standing by people in sorrow. I talked about Patrick in the light of the Kingdom. I prayed for the comfort of those left behind, who loved him. I say that their memories, the shared experiences with Patrick would remain theirs forever – nobody would take them away. I quoted King David, after the death of his son, who said “he will not come back to us – we will go to him”. Finally, I stopped talking. The mother told me kindly “that was beautiful”. We stayed silent for a while. I was looking for a way to invite her to tell me about her son but I did not find the words. Why did not I say simply “tell me about him”? Eventually, I left to check on the other patient and promised I would be back.
The mother had arrived by Larry bedside, the first patient. His heart was getting weaker. I just had time to introduce myself when another code blue took place. More nurses and medical technicians arrived. This time, the patient could not be brought back. Larry’s mother was in tears. The doctor hugged her. I stayed with her in the room after everybody left. I hold her hand and we prayed together. Then she asked to stay alone with him for a while.
I spent some time waiting in the hallway. This was a welcomed pause. I was still shaking. I went back and visited with the other family, who had some questions about the upcoming formalities. I gave them information and the phone number of the nurse supervisor – she would need to know the name of the funeral home that would be coming. The two women were getting ready to leave. Patrick’s mother hugged me. I watched them walk away – the girlfriend had taken the «Happy Father’s Day» balloons with her…
Another code blue took place at 6 :00 AM – a woman who was revived. I came and prayed with her daughters.
«The on-call nights are not always that busy» said Greg, my supervisor later that morning. Greg assured me I probably would not have another night of that intensity during the rest of this CPE.
But next Wednesday, that will be my turn again to have the pager back, a long unpredictable night ahead of me.
Another notable difference with France: how to get your medicine. In France, pharmacies are stores of their own, usually painted with green colors as it goes with its national ensign, a green cross. You bring your prescription and you don’t have to wait or come back: the pharmacist straightaway brings up and gives you the box of the medicine you need. No counting of pills. The first time I needed a prescription when I started living in the US, I was puzzled by the statement “it will be ready in one hour”. How come picking up a box on a shelf required this amount of time??? 
