While we were still in the ER I went looking for someone to come in and turn off an annoying alarm in his room. I saw a cubicle with several police milling around and observed a medical staff on top of a patient in a gurney doing chest compressions. What a sobering sight. I said a quick prayer for the patient and medical staff and returned to Dad's room. A short while later, we heard crying and saw three women in tears as they looked in the direction of that room. Obviously that person had lost their life. My brother commented that he thought that the patient was a young person brought in suffering from an OD. I heard an older lady say to someone on the phone "He's gone. They worked on him for over an hour, but couldn't bring him back". Heartbreaking to hear. I don't know this family. I don't know the circumstance. All I could do was pray.
After we got back home last night, I found my thoughts returning to that scene. Each time, I prayed. Of course I was also praying for my dad and mom and Dad's medical team. But the heartbreak of that family just stayed with me.