Code Blue

The room was dimly lit and a deep, steady snoring was coming from Dad's hospital bed with a frequently changing, staccato-like snoring from the cot in the corner where Mom slept. You would occasionally hear an agitated flop on the cot as Mom flipped from one side to the other. We figured out that the noisy flop was a "somewhat silent" protest when we or people around us made too much noise and disturbed her sleep. 

Mom stayed with Dad continually and we kids rotated, two of us at a time were in his room to watch for any need he might have. To pass the hours while Dad slept we reminisced of days past, recalled how blessed we had been and worked crossword puzzles. It wasn't unusual to quietly ask one another, "What is a four-letter word that starts with an "I" and ends with an "M"? to hear Dad say, "Item." Or whatever the puzzle might be, when we thought he was sleeping. 

The smells of food made Dad sick so we would generally leave the room to eat. But one night I popped a bag of microwave popcorn and thought he wouldn't know, as he was sleeping. Shortly after getting it into the room Dad turned his head in my direction and said, "Get that stuff out of here." 

One particular night Mark and I sat near the doorway of Dad's room quietly talking when we heard, "Code Blue!" "To room 2016!" "Code Blue!" "To room 2016!", and almost immediately a wire-framed basket on clattering wheels with a heavy man running came down the hall and into the room next to where we sat. 

Hearing the "code blue" made our hearts stand still for a few seconds as we were made aware of how quickly things could change. Then we breathed easier as the technician and his basket walked out of the room and back toward the nurse's station. 

Probably fifteen minutes had passed from the last call when Mark and I heard, "Code Blue! "To room 2019!" "Code Blue!" "To room 2019!" and immediately we heard the clattering wheels of the basket and the slapping of feet as the technician panted past us. Again a few minutes passed and he walked quietly out again. 

At irregular intervals throughout the night we would hear, "Code Blue!" "To room 2016!" "Code Blue!" "To room 2016!" and again the clattering of wheels, and the slapping of feet as the technician raced toward the room number called. His face looked pale, he was drenched in sweat and he gasped for breath as his flagging steps sped by. Mark finally said, "That fat guy is going to look like an Ethiopian before the night is over." I almost fell off my chair laughing at his observation.