Monday, January 21, 2013

Freckles



The ICU was in chaos – the Code Blue called seconds before had turned a normally placid environment into bright lights, pounding feet, shrill alarms and strained voices struggling to remain calm. Twelve people packed into one tiny, curtained room left only milliseconds to obtain a glance of what was occurring within.

Orders came fast and furious as the team performed individual duties. One nurse straddled the tiny body in the bed, sweat dripping off her brow as she tried to get the little heart beating again, while her own was breaking. Another nurse prepared the paddles, ready to administer pure electricity to the pale, cyanotic skin peeking through the generic green gown. One more was forcing oxygen into the exhausted lungs. White coats and purple gloves flapped around the room, giving the action a serpentine, writhing quality.

Yet another nurse, the nurse for this patient, tried to deliver life-saving medications through the IV in the delicate arm she was holding. The syringe wouldn’t budge; the IV was blocked. “BITCH!!!” she screamed inwardly. Her mind raced as she thought why it would be blocked – she had given the blood thinners through the line. She had flushed the line frequently. Why wasn’t it working!?

She snapped her head up to call for another IV kit… and her eyes met those of the wan, exhausted red-headed woman who was clinging to the dark-haired man next to her. Tears flowed unobstructed down the faces of the couple as they watched their child being put through the horrific agony of resuscitation.

The nurse felt renewed energy flow through her. With a heartfelt prayer, she inserted a fresh needle into the lifeless, freckled arm draped over her knee. The saline solution flushed cleanly through the new line, as did the chemicals that were made to jar the heart into a regular rhythm.

They all waited, many sets of watery eyes trained on the little being in the bed who loved pink and lace and guinea pigs.

________________________________________________

Word Count: 330


Trifecta: Week Sixty-One

This week's word is:

BITCH (noun)

1: the female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals
2 a : a lewd or immoral woman
b : a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman —sometimes used as a generalized term of abuse
3: something that is extremely difficult, objectionable, or unpleasant
Please remember:
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response.
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
  • Only one entry per writer.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us. 

post signature

30 comments:

  1. Very realistic and sad. Well done!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Joe. While this was not based on anything I've seen, it's a scene that I've played out many times in my mind during my pediatrics rotation.

      Delete
  2. Wow! Loved this completely! Very detailed and accurate description of ICU operations when the team gets called to a Code. Vivid descriptions of the effect of each team members duties upon the child's body. Finally, heartbreaking scene with the parents and their child who should be home with her pink and lace and guinea pig. Four stars from me to you!!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you kindly, Tom, for your sweet comment!

      Delete
  3. This was great writing. It really kept my attention. Well done!

    ReplyDelete
  4. It's one of the hardest things any parent could witness. I've never felt as helpless and horrified as when I watched that scene in NICU. Very well written. Awesome job.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. I've watched several codes, none of them children. This was tough to write, as I knew it would affect many.

      Delete
  5. This hit a little close to home... very well done. Thank you for sharing!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Kim, I hope that your situation ended positively. I apologize if I caused distress by sharing this fiction in a public forum. Xoxo

      Delete
  6. Loved how you balanced intense emotions with hurried actions & minute details of working of the units at the ICU.It is a very touching story-glad the child survived:-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for your kind comment. Codes are fully intense, and while I have never participated in that of a child, I could only imagine the pain.

      Delete
  7. Very realistic, I could feel myself getting so tense... Nicely done.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Sandra. I appreciate your comment!

      Delete
  8. So I have a daughter. With freckles. And a guinea pig. Whose favorite color is pink.

    I think I'll go cry now.

    This was just too realistic for me.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. ((((Jennifer)))) I apologize for causing you distress.

      Delete
  9. What an intense, difficult scene!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for reading and your comment. I truly appreciate your time!

      Delete
  10. Well described heartbreaking scene.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Steph. I am glad this particular story is fiction. I understand many parents have gone through agony of their own.

      Delete
  11. This is realistic enough to break my heart...I am so glad I haven't ever experienced anything like this.

    Great job this week :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Rachael. I'm glad I haven't either, and am so sad for those who have.

      Delete
  12. I read this some time ago and the image of the child's lifeless body keeps reappearing in my mind until I had to come back and tell you about it: a sure sign of great writing!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I appreciate you coming back, Sandra, and thank you for your compliment!

      Delete
  13. The details are striking and the ending is a cliffhanger I can barely endure. Awesome job!

    ReplyDelete
  14. I really, really liked the last sentence!

    ReplyDelete
  15. You have my heart beating overtime while reading this. A terrible situation for any parent.

    ReplyDelete
  16. oooh wow, you really drew me in with panic. poor baby girl. :(

    ReplyDelete
  17. I love the hopeful note of this and the last line is perfection.

    ReplyDelete
  18. I came back and read this again--Just as good the second reading.

    ReplyDelete