We all know what that means -- at least, those of us who have kept at least one medically-related show in our viewing repertoire since the dawn of television. When you're sitting in the lobby of Chez Healing, eating a bagel sandwich while your son sleeps two floors above you in an MRI machine, your mind goes places when you hear those words over the intercom.
Somewhere nearby a life is possibly ending. Did anyone see it coming? Is this how they expected it to turn out? What hopes and dreams are suddenly being placed into the "never mind" pile? Are the parents there, watching this unfold?
Will George Clooney or Noah Wyle show up in time to save them?
I'm going to hell, I think to myself as I move beyond my shallow curiosities and focus on the breakfast food before me. Of course, I understand that this belittling of what is most certainly a nightmare for someone is my own emotional defense, designed to keep myself from going down the road of envisioning, feeling, preparing...
But there is no need to fear the worst today. Once again VB returned from his MRI a little groggy from the anesthesia, but still "free of disease".
A day without our own Code Blue -- a good day indeed.