Monday, December 13, 2010

Code Blue

I am sitting in Makenzie's UCSF Room, #647, and have been awake since 5:05 am. I can't get back to sleep, and that is in part because of all the beepings and also because my mind keeps racing back to the code blue page from Saturday morning.

When you "live" in a hospital you digest the noises as part of your existence. You start to ignore beeps, iv- noises, pumps, breathing treatments and machines working at keeping your children alive. But you never can digest the noises of kids cries, moans, and chirps and especially the beeping of Code Blue. When that happens, you hear a mass of clogs and running shoes storming down the hallway to the child in need. You hear the quick talk of medical lingo on the walkie talkies, swooshing of ventilators, hands working at rapid pace to keep a child alive. The intensity of those moments are some that stay with you forever, as you were in the midst of hearing life almost slip by...but being saved by the incredible hands of RN's and MD' pray. By the nature of God, because I believe more than ever that there is a God who has embraced Makenzie, my family and our challenges, and I have to know and believe is embracing all the little gifts of children on the 6th and 7th floor at UCSF.

Right now, I'll go back to embracing my sweet Makenzie, who is sleeping in front of me with her lovely French braids down her back and cuddling her little Ali medical bear. She wanted to cuddle tight last night as we talked about what we could do when it is our turn to go home. The nerves of potentially staying through Christmas are floating within her and it would be incredible to be home and soon. It will happen soon, and I am beyond grateful that during her medical challenges the past almost 3 months I have never heard the words Code Blue in relation to her. Almost in ICU....but gratefully Makenzie was never Code Blue.


  1. write beautifully and I look forward to your next posts. I am grateful to you for reminding me of what is truly important but also for reminding me how to see illness through a parents' eyes. I am always thinking of your Mackenzie...thank you for being so candid and open with all of us. It is an inspiration. Cassie

  2. Cassie, I thought about you as we left last night. The joy but nerves to leave are holding a place in my gut. I am going to try to digest what has happened the past months and put it to words. Many ways, I started the blog earlier, but I don't think I was ready to. Much love to you.


I am probably out running, but I thank you for taking the time to share. I look forward to your additional input as this blog grows and evolves.
Erin Kreitz Shirey