Code Green

"Code Green Unit 5A, Code Green Unit 5A"

Thus began my first Code Green (i.e. psychiatric emergency). As this is my first call, I've got a set of beautiful training wheels, a very capable and calming third year resident. As I was, ahem, updating the blog (after a looong break courtesy of orientation week), the words above dispassionately filled the room from the intercom and drowned out Venus Williams' vocal serves on the waiting room television. We briskly exited the clinic.

"Is your heart rate up yet?"

Yup. Certainly was. Remarkably though I was still grasping calm. I was desperately trying to clear the clouds of our orientations to think of exactly what to do. Thankfully, I had the fast-walking Atlantan by my side to elucidate the details. What level of Haldol? How much Ativan? I'm not supposed to use Benadryl, right?

This was quickly replaced images of what awaited us on internal medicine's fifth floor. Images of a charging half-naked, obese, gray-haired veteran came to mind. Then there was the thought of a feces-flinging new schizophrenic break. By the time I had psyched myself out (no pun intended), we arrived to hear an exasperated :

"Yeah, no problem now. He was just trying to leave AMA (against medical advice) and with his IV still in his arm (a big no no). His doctor told him that he can't be discharged right now; he's in an emergency surgery."

That's it? Huh. So, we enter this patient's room to find a IV-less ornary old man with an incredibly appropriate hat that read, "Dysfunctional Veteran, Leave Me Alone." Will do. After some coaxing, and of course the arrival of half a dozen police officers, he calmed down a bit and was allowed to leave donning a scruffy disposition with his physician's new blessing ten minutes later.

Apparently the threshold for calling for a Code Green on the internal medicine ward is a bit lower than I expected. The rush melted away, and I've retreated to the clinic.