I might of witnessed the last moments of a man’s life today in the ER.

There’s not much privacy in the emergency waiting room. A man and and his wife walk in and go to the triage and the man’s only complaint is that his lungs hurt. He sits down across the chair pool from me with his wife. They don’t look very happy and there wasn’t any consoling, they just seemed frustrated and angry at each other. Arm’s folded, the man hunched over directionally away from her.

The first part of the emergency room process are vitals and admission. “Daniel” is called from the big-secure doors and him and wife get up. Vitals and admission usually don’t take more then 15 minutes, and somewhere around minute 5 a big official announcement comes over the PA: “code 3, code blue, critical cart, room 3” whatever. My mom’s with me, who’s also an RN at the same hospital and says “that is not good” not in a jokingly matter. The people who could stand up all did and looked at the big secure doors where personnel are flocking to like people who slow down to look at a car crash. The wife runs crying “Dan Dan Dan Dan” through the waiting room, and out the main doors. 

Things return to normal it shortly after, but the wife never comes back, neither does “Dan”. Hours later when it was my turn to be seen, I caught a glimpse of room 3, and it certainty wasn’t the man from earlier. 

I can’t say for sure, and I will actually never know that answer of what had transpired.

It’s just fucking with my head.