My Husband, The Hero!

I've decided to share a story with our family and friends because it's likely James won't. If you read the title of the post and threw up a little in your mouth, I apologize... kinda. I don't want to be one of those people who is unbearable to listen to because they seem to brag all the time, and yet, I want to share the amazing things God does in our lives. Because God is so good to us!

Before I begin the story, I'd like to mention a conversation I had recently with a friend who is also expecting a baby boy late this spring. We were discussing what it meant to raise a boy into a man, how that might look, and how we as women might foster an environment to nurture our sons' unique dreams and spirits. She had heard a radio show where a woman spoke of this very topic. She said her grade-school age son was very interested in super heroes. She decided she would start asking her son, "What are you going to do to be a hero, today?" The woman shared that this had provided many opportunities for her and her son to demonstrate love and care for those in need. After hearing this, I thought I could see myself and a little boy in a cape running to those in need of rescue, or at least finding ways to share love and offer help... This reminded me of something I had seen...What was it....?

This is the only picture I could find, but I'm nearly certain this is not the only proof that exists. James is holding his baby brother, David, and while that is sweet, that's not why I chose this image. Notice the diaper pin securing a blanket cape around James' neck....? I hear reports that James often wore a cape and played a super hero... Not surprising!

My husband! He's been playing a super hero for years! He has since lost the cape, but he is no less impressive, if I do say so myself. I'm so excited my son will have such a wonderful concrete example of a hero in his life. This brings me to my story...

The other day when James arrived home after being on call overnight for a 30 hour shift, he was bouncing off the walls. This is highly unusual. He is usually stumbling over his own feet and needs assistance to carry him upstairs and into bed. (I use the word assistance liberally. I generally am only capable of providing my hubby with lots of verbal encouragement and support to conquer the stairs. If he looked to me for physical assistance, we'd both end up in a heap at the bottom of the steps...) Anyway, we was very excited!

Our normal post-call procedure is to greet each other at the door. He then proceeds to the dining room table where I feed him a small snack before he heads upstairs for an afternoon nap. While he eats his snack, he shares a few of the highlights from his evening at the hospital. Depending on how the shift played out, this can be a time for James to vent, or a time to tell colorful tales of the characters he's encountered, sometimes it's even a time to share sadness and grief. It's not uncommon for me to feel the weight of James responsibilities during this brief tête-à-tête. James is rarely very animated as he recounts his last 30 hours.


[Please keep in mind that while I tell the story, I may not be 100% accurate on hospital happenings, but this is my understanding as the spouse of a resident. It is greatly simplified and hopefully clear enough to make sense.]

While a resident is on call overnight they have many responsibilities. These vary depending on what sort of service they are currently assigned to for the given 4-week rotation. However, there is one constant responsibility ALL on call residents share. They must respond to codes. A code is called when life-saving measures are required urgently and many health care providers rush to the sick patient's room to provide intervention.  These are a common event in a hospital caring for very sick patients.

The other night, while on call, James responded to a code. It just so happens that earlier that day he had sat in on a refresher course on ACLS (Advanced Cardiac Life Support.) They went over using specific technology and reviewed algorithms for treating specific situations. While en route to the room where the code was taking place, he ran into an intern level resident. James took the opportunity to talk with her and asked, "What's the most important thing you want to know in a code?" She thought on it but wasn't certain. James responded, "You want to know the rhythm." He explained to me later that knowing the heart's rhythm is the first step in using an algorithm. Without that basic knowledge, it's tough to know how to proceed.

Upon arriving in the room, he asked that very question. Those previously present, running the code, did not know the answer. They were proceeding with ACLS, but without that knowledge it must have been tough to know what to do.  The patient wasn't hooked up to leads or a monitor so there was no reading on the rhythm. Fortunately, James had just had the refresher course and knew how to use the equipment they had available to them. He was able to share the knowledge with others and they were able to accurately access the situation and provide the specific intervention needed to return a pulse to the patient, effectively saving his life.

James is quick to share that this is just what is expected of him, and that it was fortunate that he had just been refreshed on such things. And I know it is, but I am still so proud of him. He would also share that while they were able to intervene, such measures are extreme and it's really hard to know how well a patient would fair after receiving such aggressive treatment.

When he shared his story with me his arms were flying about with large gestures and his voice would rise and fall with excitement. I love these moments. They make the stressful hours and demands of residency seem worth the sacrifice.

It wasn't seconds after he finished his story that he nearly passed out in his bowl of soup. It must have taken all the spare energy he had to give such a spirited rendition of the night's events. I had to provide my usual "assistance" to get him up into bed for his nap.

I'm thankful for his triumphs in medicine. I'm thankful to hear when James is able to discharge a patient from the hospital, or when one of his regular clinic patients decides to stop smoking or has successfully lost weight. I live for those stories. It makes the sickness, the sadness, and the death that so often accompany a career in medicine a little more bearable. 

I'm proud of my husband, the hero!