Time

Time My index finger was reaching for  the up button on the elevator  when the voice sounded above,  Code Blue Tower 8. Code Blue Tower 8. I broke for the stairs.    They were getting the paddles in place;  the First Year with the floppy hair, Ethan,  pumping the chest; the Night Float, Emily, manning an Ambu-Bag; Jamie, the Resident, running the code.   I dared a look at the face –  Ken, with whom I’d traded jokes  for twenty years – Ken, whom I’d told  yesterday his time was coming –  he’d be back home, maybe two days.   Clear! barked Jamie. Hands backed away, motion suspended. A very long second. The shape on the bed gave a shudder. Then Jamie’s voice: Excellent, a rhythm.   A rhythm – but no pulse. Hands were pumping again,  counting, squeezing in air.  The spark was there on the screen –  life, dancing across it –  but none of the tiny muscles  in the heart were listening.    Epi. Atropine. Thirty minutes.  Ethan looked up at Jamie, she  shot a glance at me. Someone  had to say it – and first  right of refusal to the guy  with gray hair.   A power none of us wished for –  a power none of us have –  but the world pretends.   I felt my head move up and down. Jamie’s eyes found the clock –  7:44 AM, she said. Time.