The Calm After the Storm

Abstract

A child gets rushed into the resuscitation room ‐ chest compressions in progress, pale and mottled, emesis and blood streaking his matted hair and ashen face. Everyone springs into action, instinctively assuming the roles we were trained to do. The respiratory therapist seamlessly takes over ventilations, the nurses simultaneously obtain access, prime lines, and connect monitors, and I stand at the foot of the bed acting as the conductor amongst the cacophony of sound and motion.

This article is protected by copyright. All rights reserved.

http://bit.ly/2W3E2hP