Oh, I forgot. Worked a night shift at Saint D's. First night shift is always hard because you can never force yourself into the night schedule before going in and it always ends up as a long, long day. The medics brought in a full arrest. Heres' the story. Woman and her boyfriend are drinking. Heavily. She goes to the bathroom. About 45 minutes later he goes to the bathroom also. And finds her collapsed on the ground. Unresponsive. Not breathing. So he calls 911. And waits. The medics arrive to find him drinking beer and watching TV. He then escorts them to the bathroom where this woman is still lying on the ground slowly approaching room temperature. The medics start CPR and bring her to me. Just to be clear, the report I receive when they bring her in is that the patient has been down for about one hour and fifteen minutes. 75 freaking minutes of being dead! I run the protocol, but my main thought is "Are you fucking kidding me? What do you expect me to do?" We pushed some meds, did compressions for two minutes and called it. In the "Impression" section of my chart I wrote "Dead". And then I circled it. 75 minutes down. Are you kidding me? Also, interestingly, a metaphor for my relationship with the Arkansan. U-561