During last night's duty, we had a code for a 5-year old kid who was long-time patient in the wards. It was the 6th cycle of resuscitation and it was my time to do CPR. 1 min and 30 sec into it, the mom shouted "Doc, tigil na po. Tama na po." Gago, pare, last touch ako. I didn't want to stop. That was just a kid, supposed to be at home playing or in school studying. He wasn"t supposed to be lying there in the hospital bed intubated, with all those lines and cycles of Epi, and yet still unresponsive. I didn't want to stop. I almost said, "Wait lang po mommy!" What if, I pumped harder? What if after this cycle, we get something? What if, kaya pa? I didn't want to stop. I felt for his cold clammy skin ad I pumped onto his bruised and depressed chest. I looked into his eyes and saw the dilated pupils. Maybe a few more cycles could do it. Baka meron pa talaga. I didn't want to stop but I know I had to. It was never my call in...
n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time—and will keep growing back again and again, until you develop a more sophisticated emotional structure, held up by a strong and flexible spine, built less like a fortress than a cluster of treehouses.