Sunday, November 28, 2010

Code White

My first travel contract was in Waterloo, IA.  I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't mind it.  The only thing that went through my mind was that it was in tornado alley and I would occasionally go outside and watch the coming storms.  I used to love watching the thunderstorms roll in, see the sky turn dark and feel that crackle in the air; it was glorious.  In some ways, it's why I looked forward to going to southern Illinois.

While I was in Iowa, I would watch the weather channel fairly often.  Now, I'm not insane, so I can reasonably say that I took everything that was said with about 4 cups of salt, but if they had some storm warning up, I would at least go outside and verify it.  When I was at work, however, there were no windows, no way to look outside which sucked.  I would occasionally hear a thump from a close blast of thunder through the wall, but if you like thunderstorms, it's like a dry hump compared to an Asian brothel; yeah, it's nice, but it's not the same.

I was working in the sleep lab alone one night and I had gotten there early so that I could get everything set up in advance.  After about an hour, there was still no sign of any patients and I was like "kick ass!".  One of the steps that I had to do, though, was call downstairs and verify that there was no one down there waiting, give it another hour or so, call the patients, then go home.  So, I went into the control room and called down to registration to see if any or both of my patients had failed to show up.

"I can't send your patients up right now" was the response from the operator.  I was kind of shocked and responded with "do I need to come down and bring them up with a wheelchair or something?"  Now, this thought was kind of a sucky one.  I don't mind helping people with disabilities, but it does make the night longer.

"Oh, no.  They will be able to come up in a few minutes."

You could have heard my mental crickets chirping over the phone.

"You must not have heard.  There is a code white for the hospital, when it's over, they will be upstairs".

I told her okay and hung up.

WTF is a code white?  25 Dr's running through the hospital naked except for their lab coats? A terribly horrific flu like bug that spreads instantaneously?

I went and pulled open the lab policy and procedure book and looked up code white.  (side note, they never tell you what a code brown is.  You don't want to know).  Code White - tornado visible from hospital, do not under any circumstances go above the 1st floor.

I don't know what was worse.  Sitting in the sleep lab wanting to see the tornado that apparently was within visible range wishing I could see it, or knowing that I was sitting near the windows on the 4th floor that could soon suck me outside.  Instead, neither happened, but I still remember the day I completely and epically failed to either see a tornado or fly in one.

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