7pm on a Monday, I walk into a room to ask something of my chief resident and all of a sudden I see the face of death in front of me. Pale and inanimate, her soul escaping her physical being as her body cools. She remains pulseless. Dead.
With a thunderous furry the Code Team arrive in a cacophonic and chaotically orchestrated dance.
Behind the flurry comes a beacon of hope. The calm and emboldened purveyor of life with his magic devices in hand. He walks briskly, with efficiency and persistence. He knows his role as the human opponent of the grim reaper, preventing the sickle from sickling the sick with a wave of his electrical wand.
The old brother breaking down, dentures falling as he cries a thousand miles away from home. Her impending-ending and the reality of his post-life life crashing into his existence like waves into a weathered shore.
But then came Atropine, delicate, concentrated and drawn from a the true fountain of youth, strikes her newly scuddled veins and explodes them open as her heart returns its rhythmic beat.
Reborn once more she erupts back to life.
The Code, or better yet, God-e Team, has won.
At least for today.