Brown Eyes

My shift started out with the usual routine. Sixteen hundred hours, Monday afternoon. Just like every other Monday afternoon. I sat on a chair over looking the unit - hearing the noise of the television quietly speaking out to ears that hear more than one voice. Watching individuals look far beyond the walls that hold them in. Focusing on lips that move speaking to unseen others and watching those who lost their freedom because they are lost mentally. I hear the beep over the intercom. Unusual. No one was making an announcement at the desk. What was the hospital announcing? A message of an activity held that night? A test to see what units would respond to a mock code? The message proceeded. “Attention, attention, there is a Code Blue in the kitchen of the Harmon Building.” Immediately my senses focused on the repeating message. There was no “mock” before "Code Blue"!

I immediately jumped out of my chair. Everything was in slow motion, each step in control. I ran across the room to the supply room putting my key in and opening the door, grabbing the emergency cart. I shut the door behind me and started running down the hall, our unit nurse right behind me.

After the doors locked behind me I ran towards the call for help. Each step brought me closer and closer. The SSRN waved me down and pointed me in the direction towards the emergency. I ran through a corridor, which led me through a maze of hallways. I was blind - only the screaming led me closer to where help was needed. A small hallway was ahead of me. People were pointing. This was it. The only moment that night I felt my senses lose control. I ran around the corner and entered a staff bathroom.

Slow motion over. Reality up to speed. The timer started. The leader in me, out.

I entered the room as one of the first responders with an emergency cart. A young man was on the floor, unconscious. CPR was being preformed. In the mist of fear, our nurse asked “Did anyone call 9-1-1?” No one responded. I was in shock. Immediately I called 9-1-1, sending out the S-0-S call for help to the hospital. I was on the phone with the dispatcher relaying information of what I was seeing.

“Is he breathing?

“No.”

“Does he have a pulse?”

“No.”

“Is he talking?”

“No!”

I then handed off the phone to the nurse who had a better idea medically of what was going on. I was on the stall over looking this person, whose life was in our hands. CPR was still being performed. There was no time to lose. Without thought I jumped in and assisted with the CPR. I tilted his head back, opening a better air way.

His lips were blue. His skin was still warm. His eyes were brown.

They were brown.

His eyes looked up into mine but there was no life in them. His voice couldn’t tell me anymore than I knew, but there was pain in his eyes. He was dead because he chose to end his life by suicide. The bruise around his neck showed the way he chose to leave his life.

17-18-19-Breath.

This continued over and over till the EMTs arrived. The panic was calm because we all knew. He was dead. We secured his neck and pushed the body from out of the stall to an open area so more work could be done. I stood back and held the exit door open. I watched staff as they began to trickle out. The stress of that moment started to hit the people that were involved. One of those who were involved passed out from the stress.

Why did he do this? Why at work? What about his family?

Suicide is not the answer. It never will be.

- Rick