There's something about working at night in the hospital. For the most part, it's eerily quiet; patients are sleeping, nurses are documenting, and us techs are giving patient care. There are no big bosses; no doctors, no administrators. It's peaceful...until the guy in room 15 stops breathing, and the meth addict/MVA case comes up from ER.
Then all hell breaks loose...nurses from all units are rushing to help. Someone's bagging, someone else is calling for the crash cart, and us techs...we are scrambling around to find the code box with all the medications in it. The new admission is getting hooked up to the monitors, while the nurse starts pushing Zofran to control her vomiting. It's all a bunch of hoopla, until the patient begins breathing again, the new admission falls asleep, and then silence covers the unit again.
I live for the hoopla-hell moments. It's what makes working nights exciting. You never know when a patient will crash, and you don't know what new patient will be coming through those double doors. Medicine is such organized chaos. In the midst of all of the uproar, something beautiful happens: a team of people come together to deliver quality care to someone in need. We take all of our energy, and focus it on the patient. And no matter the outcome, the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction is undeniable.
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