“Time of death, 2:18”

As a young intern, I watched my senior residents with envy as they commanded the code room. “Equal breath sounds,” they would announce after sliding the endotracheal tube effortlessly through the cords. I reflected on those early days briefly before delivering the bad news to anxious family members. Walking back to my desk I placed my hand on my colleagues more experienced shoulder with a halfhearted grin, “Who knew the medicine would be the easiest part of our job?” He laughed, “Always learning my friend.”

The intubations, chest tubes, and central lines become routine after a while. And if you’re not careful, codes become routine as well. But it’s one of the most important things we do. Not the procedures, not the medicine, but rather the finesse, the details, the subjective and unquantifiable aspects of the job. It’s a separation of our specialty from others. It's the dignity of human life. It’s important to preserve.

I’ll leave you with one of my favorite poems to read before I walk into my home.

'No Man is an Island'

No man is an island entire of itself; every man

is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;

if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe

is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as

well as any manner of thy friends or of thine

own were; any man's death diminishes me,

because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

MEDITATION XVII

Devotions upon Emergent Occasions

John Donne 

Welcome to humanity, young interns. It’s a good place to be.

about the author

Adam Barnathan, DO, is a 2019 graduate of USF Emergency Medicine. Dr. Barnathan enjoys working as a community ER physician and giving back to the EM Community at USF by sharing his unique perspective and teachings regularly as an invited guest at our conferences.

Post edited by Enola Okonkwo, MD.