Here’s an account of the events that led up to the reporting of Kris Kringle’s medical record:
‘Twas the call before Christmas – by GiggleMed.com
‘Twas the call before Christmas, when all through the floors
Not a patient was restless, not even Old Claus
The nurses were standing at the station, just chatting
each avoiding the word “quiet”, (…you know what could happen)
Med students were dismissed home early for the night
with pages of Cecil’s or Sabiston’s to get just right
And my resident in her long coat, and I in my scrubs
had just resigned our bodies to cold, cafe grub.
When from our pagers, there beeped such a note,
We flew from the lounge heading straight for the code
not the elevators (too slow), I hit the steps
time for some aerobics, then A-C-L-S.
The door to the unit slammed ‘gainst the wall
deepening a dent where it had hit before
When, what to my wondering eyes should manifest
But a pint-sized doc compressing a chest
With a shrill, firm voice, so demanding and loud
She called out: “Help. This guy’s really goin south!”
More rapid than docs, the nurses, they ran
and she yelled, and ordered, and gave them the plan.
“Now airway! now bag in/out! now you check a rhythm!
is it a-fib, is it v-tach, decide so we’ll know what to give ‘im!
drop the head of the bed, check a pressure (its low)
Then clear away, clear away, clear you schmoes!”
As charged paddles touched down on his hairy chest,
a jolting shock was nigh as buttons were pressed,
and up to the sky, the patient, he flew
We stared at the monitor to see what to do
And then, in flash, we saw on the screen.
The P,T, and QRS’s of normal sinus gleam.
As we checked a pressure, the patient was coming ’round
“Who are all of you and what happened to my gown?!”
Old Claus was naked, you see, from his head to his toe,
his gown cast off by the chest compression blows
a tray from a line lay on his belly
the thigh glistened with residual ultrasound jelly
His chest, how it heaved, his cheeks how hammy,
his hands were like ice, his skin cool and clammy.
His purple mouth pursed into an O,
and the hair on his head was damp you know
The edge of a mask was tight ‘gainst his mouth
but every so often it burped as he groused
He had a red face and a distended tummy
probably overinflated when he was doin’ crummy
His neck was obese and thick, veins full to the bone
And I cringed as the implications struck home
a roll of the eyes and his head drooped to his chest
all alerted us that there was no time to rest
He said not a word and we went back to work
and placed an ET tube, he didn’t jerk
and checking a pressure with a doppler probe
into the IV, thrombolytics soon flowed.
The doors opened, we heard the hiss of the vent
and away the bed rushed, like a post-call resident
But I heard the intensivist say as he checked access
“Cripes, look at this guy. Did anyone more clearly need prophylaxis?”
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