I remember the first time I saw someone die. It's not one of those memories you want to hold, but it stays with you...at least it did with me. I remember that day in the pediatrics ER at the University Medical Center in Vegas like it happened yesterday. A 7 year-old boy was ambulanced in from a birthday party, where the child fell into the pool. His young, hysterical mother trailed the stretcher closely, but it was surrounded by frantic nurses and doctors pounding his tiny chest with desperate attempts to keep his heart pumping blood to his brain. The room was chaotic and messy. There were sheets on the tiled floors as well as unused tubes and syringe caps. Usually, the curtains would be drawn to keep an incident like this private and hidden from the other emergent onlookers. But that little rule was broken due to the frantic atmosphere.
And as fast as it began, it ended. The code was called. Time of death: 3:28 pm. As each of the doctors left the room, another ambulance announced their arrival with another emergency. And although this was a tragic event and something most doctors pray they don't see on their shift on any given day, it happens. Children will go to birthday parties and unfortunately, will jump into a pool without close attentive eyes on them. And their number will be called...even if they're only seven years old and have their whole life ahead to look forward to. And we who witness this robbery are left with a piece of our sanity taken and with only aweful memories stored safely away in files in our minds that we visit once in a while upon sad recollection.
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