Flunking ACLS

Well, the John Prine song I love best is..

You come home late and you come home early
You come on big when you're feeling small
You come home straight and you come home curly
Sometimes you don't come home at all

So what in the world's come over you
And what in heaven's name have you done
You've broken the speed of the sound of loneliness
You're out there running just to be on the run...etc.

The code I was so proud of--something happened and no one will tell me what.

"You don't want to know," Wiz said, cutting me short when I asked. "I can't believe it. It's appalling. Just stay well clear of this."

And do I care about the patient? No. All I want to know is "is it me? me? me? Did I do something wrong?" Ego.

Wiz looks agonized. Truly upset. What happened, I wonder? I can't look it up on the computer--because the patient's not on the floor any more and that would be violating HIPPAA. I don't want to ask too many questions, because if Wiz is getting some heat, raising people's awareness of it will just make it worse, and there are a lot of people who don't like Wiz. That goes for everyone involved, actually. Did Drunken Disaster do something wrong?

I'm taking the ACLS refresher this week. No more teachers. Just a computerized dummy and a simulation, which doesn't always record the actions you take. You wear headphones, and they've simulated the sound of breathing and all the beeps and hmms of the monitors, and half of the work is figuring out your way around the computer. I believe I'm becoming stupider with every passing day. And as you make stupid choices, or click on the wrong god damn thing, the patient gets worse, and so your nice day off wearing clean clothes and regular shoes turns into a little flashback of hell. I was in there eight hours. With an hour break to turn in the reimbursement forms for two of the zen students' trip to Mt. Baldy. Of course, there are things left out, because they're Nick and Lilly's age, so I'm sitting arguing pleasantly with the reimbursement czar, and finally in exasperation I end up calling one of them to bring the correct documentation NOW PLEASE, sounding exactly like his mother. "Okay," he says meekly, "I'll be right over."

Hard to keep from being mom...

Then back to the education building--which is way, way, way over on the other side of town, in this terrible building with no right angles It's supposed to stimulate creativity, but it makes me feel as if I have low blood sugar. The whole building trembles slightly with the passing traffic from the highway, and it's always freezing cold. Not just the temperature--but a strange, layered cold that seeps into your very soul. I hate that building.

I pull into the parking lot and almost have a head-on with the only person who has ever written me up--on something stupid--5 years ago--I won--then I go back inside the cramped little simulation room and try to finish up my simulations--and actually don't, I'm ashamed to say.

5:00. I reward myself with chocolate brownie ice cream. Jay buys. We sit out on the sidewalk in the crisp fall air, not saying too much. He looks so good. He smells so good. I wish I could trust the smallest little particle of him. But I don't. I should have paid attention. Mistrust comes back at you like a scorpion's tail. You hang on at first, just wanting things to be okay, but then, whoosh. The sting. And the slow, hard baked anger, that eventually poisons and silences..

I go home. I've got an email saying they made a mistake about my raise, and I'm actually NOT getting one. Then Jay calls. He left his keys inside the bank and wants to know if he can borrow one of my cars tonight. I drive back downtown, park on 9th and walk up the street to the bar.

I've been feeling the strangest way, lately, as if all my pretty is just leaching out of me. As I'm going up the street, I see Hali, Jay's ex, walking in that self contained, complacent, replete way she has. She's a pretty woman. She's walking her bicycle, she has a tiered skirt swinging around her shins and clogs. I think bad thoughts, try not to. But really, why is she such a part of our lives? She senses my glower, gives me a tentative wave. She looks like Elena when she does that, and I give her a real smile and wave back. Elena who's shy, and funny, and who I like most of the time.

I wish I understood anything.

Jay's at the bar with Hunter, who is staggeringly drunk. He lectures us about being positive. "The trick to life is to stay positive."

"Another trick," I say, snarkily, "is to stay sober."

But I'm probably wrong about that, too.

I loan Jay Nick's thunderbird. And Jay drives off. I get hit in the stomach suddenly, watching the taillights disappear, with an ache so hard I want to curl up in the street. For my son, for the past, for this fragmented life. Where is it all going? What was I thinking?

Hohum.

That's my 1/2 hour.