Wonders

Frigid air slapped Nicki's face as a gurney blasted through the automatic doors of the emergency room. A paramedic straddled a lifeless body, rocking up and down with each chest compression; Like a bronco rider, Nicki thought. Another ran alongside squeezing a resuscitator. A military looking paramedic held an IV high while guiding the gurney through the ER to an area outfitted to wage war against death.

Excited, the new student nurse tucked herself into a nearby corner. The first responders stepped back as the ER team took over. A staccato of orders shot across the room. Inside the intense flurry of activity, skilled hands moved with precision. A shout came, "Clear!" The body jumped. Again, "Clear!" And again, "Clear!" The body jerked and a monitor beeped as the lifeless heart revived. The ventilator breathed, wires and tubes and needles and blood and fluids ran in as black urine ran out. They'd brought a dead man back to life. They were heroes! Full of wonder, Nicki almost applauded.

Nicki was thrilled when Dr. Neil, an old family friend, strode through the ER to the gurney. She resisted the urge to run tell him how right he was; she was born for this. The solemn doctor flipped through a chart and pointed for the nurse to see. Stepping away and turning his back to the man on the gurney, Dr. Neil picked up the phone to notify family. A nurse turned off the respirator, removed the IV and moved around the inert body disconnecting life.

A poisonous cocktail of horror and disbelief filled Nicki. Her eyes burned and her nose began to run as elation whooshed out. The bone marrow in her legs turned to mush, she clung to an IV pole and swallowed bile. Dr. Neil saw her and sighed, he crossed the room, laying a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away.

"You know what DNR means, Nicki?"

"Do not resuscitate. But they saved him!"

"No, Nicki, cancer destroyed his organs. A few days hooked to machines is not saving him."

He stood there like it was just any normal day. The tiny stitches that held Nicki's life together tore open; it would leave a scar. "You're a murderer, I quit!"

A cool mask of professionalism disguised Dr. Neil's familiar face. "Nurse Nicki, go sit with the patient until the family arrives." He walked out the door.

Nicki sat, eyes roving over the man's flaccid body, taking inventory. Emaciated, jaundice, a dribble of blood pooling around his left nostril. She wiped it with a tissue. She read his wristband; Charles A. Morgan. Clasping his limp hand in her trembling one, Nicki started humming "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."

The instant he departed his body, liquid heat flowed through Nicki and spilled out her eyes. When Mrs. Morgan rushed in, she spotted the student nurse holding her husband's hand, her grief etched face softened and she released a long-held breath.

That's the day Nicki learned that holding the hand of a dying man was as much a wonder as the life-saving feats of heroes.