So if a patient codes (passes out, has a seizure, starts dying, etc) on floors 1-3 of the hospital, it's the ER's job to assist...and as a grunt slave laborer I have to carry all the heavy shit needed in a code.
Today, at about 3, overhead we hear a page for Code 199 in cysto operating room--our cue to grab the shit and run. Sporting my lovely orange backpack and respiratory box I start running towards the OR. However, when I get there, all of the nurses and doctors that first responded are just standing there because they don't know where this cystoOR room is. No one seems to know where the code is actually taking place. We run to another department, ask a clueless phlebotomist, another clueless security guard... and I'm thinking--sweet this poor patient is coding somewhere and we have a bunch of foolish medical personnel running around a hospital.
Eventually, after going back to the OR for the 3rd time, we're told it was a false alarm. People are pissed--big hot shot doctors are reprimanding random people in the hallway. I stop for one moment, a little annoyed that I got all worked up to actually take care of an emergency that never happened. But then I think for a moment longer...and realize, but dude I just got to run through the hospital with a bright orange backpack on... rock and roll.