Monday, December 08, 2008

Separated By Common Experience

Chatting with one of the Paramedics the other night, shooting the shit, and all.

He'd had a bad run the night before, attending to a young patient, in cardiac arrest. Nothing to be done, but run the numbers, mark time and call it.

I could see it hurt him, hit him hard; the knowledge that it were all for naught.

I know just how he feels; I've been there, run the same code, counted the same numbers, marked the same time.

Somehow, this makes it harder to talk about. We share a look, and go our separate ways into the dark....

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