CouldaShouldaWoulda

More, could have done more.

Still more, intubate. 

Compressions, rhythm, shock, epi, rhythm.

No rhythm, no air.

Bagged more, compressed faster, why didn't they start a line?

Why no drugs?

You just called it, and I was stunned.  I wanted to do more

My rational mind has set there was nothing to be done, nothing more to do

Futility most raw, most burning

Gone so long, success would have meant quantity instead of quality

Instead.  Of Quality.

But did I do it right?  I don't remember who was bagging, 

Why didn't you take over for me, tell me what I was doing?

I only remember one face, and that awful silence.

"Let's call it."  Words that still sting, here months later.  

Compressions, breathe, rhythm, harmony, trigger, feeling, shock, grief, shame.

Shame on you.  Is there something wrong with me?  Something wrong with us women, we are so supportive to these women in crisis, what about my crisis?  

I can't be the only one.  The only one who wonders...

What if?  

Could have, should have, rhythm, fluid, volume, cardiac, heartache, headache, ischemia.

Isolation.

Maybe I'm just not cut out for this.  

Or, maybe I'm tired or hungry and have hair-trigger tears these days.

Trauma, Tamponade, Tension Pneumo, Toxins, Terror, Treatment, Torrent, Terrible.

Hypovolemia, Hypoxia, Help, Hypoglycemia, Horror, Hidden, Hydrogen Ion, Hydrogen Bomb.

Help.

Help.

The T's and H's can't explain it all away.  Can't save you even though I tried.

There's always a reason, bleeding always stops, not your turn.

Not your turn.

Help.