The rhythmic ringing of the phone rudely interrupts the Sunday evening news. “Dr. Ensz, the squad is out and they are bringing in a 1099. CPR is in progress.” Diana calmly explodes my near somnolence.
“I’ll be right there,” I mumble. My brain attempts a quick transition from bozo condition to red alert status. No time to methodically assemble my battle gear. I simply grab the keys and my jacket and head for the car.
The ride to the hospital under these circumstances is reminiscent of creeping to the top of the first peak of a roller coaster ride. You have adrenaline dumping into your veins like lighter fluid being doused on the coals in your Weber grill.
This is no time to bail out. You need as much help as you can muster. The EMT’s, nurses, and aides always offer excellent support. I pray that we will all be empowered to give our best effort.
As I turn into the rear hospital parking lot, I realize that I have arrived ahead of the ambulance. That doesn’t make it any easier. Your fight or flight system is maximally energized. You just have a technical delay before the game starts.
My heart sinks as I stride through the automatic sliding doors into the ER department. A dear friend is sitting in the hallway. Her eyes tell the story. Her father is the passenger in the rescue squad racing to the hospital.
We chat. I don’t know what we say. She hugs me and her eyes fill with tears. The wail of the siren intensifies as

the emergency vehicle approaches. The sound changes to ding, ding, ding as it backs into the garage.
Our patient is wheeled into the ER on a gurney. He is escorted by three men all in unison chanting the one and two and three and…CPR mantra as they perform life support.
At that moment, the roller coaster car plunges straight down the slope and the match is thrown on the brickets. Potential energy yields to kinetic energy. Everyone has a job. Everyone is determined. Karen starts an I.V. in our patient’s left hand. Kami draws up an ampule of epinephrine into a syringe. Diana jots down all the times, doses, and drugs on the flow sheet. Chest compressions continue. Ventilation persists through a mask filled over the man’s throat and nose. Between the four beat and the five beat of the resuscitation doxology, a puff of pure oxygen is pushed into his lungs.
The rescue squad workers recite the pertinent details of their mission. The man’s wife had alertly dialed 911 after her husband slumped over after supper. The Johnson QRT (Quick Response Team) had been the first to appear and had initiated CPR. The Auburn Rescue Squad arrived minutes later and continued the drill as they loaded him up and raced to the hospital. He was hooked up to an automatic defibrillator. Unfortunately, at no time did the chest electrodes identify any cardiac activity that could potentially be shocked into a normal, blood-propelling rhythm.