Sliding Doors

A long while back, there was a lil known movie called Sliding Doors that told the story of a lady, reminiscent of a very youthful Gwyneth Paltrow, who found herself splitting into two alternate timelines because of one possible missed train. One in which she actually managed to get on that train and one where the doors literally shut on her.

Just a serendipitous incidence that would send her life barrelling down two entirely separate timelines that couldn't be more different. 

That very distinct image of the sliding train doors always remained with me - along with the surprisingly sentimental ballad from Aqua that accompanied it. 

One that comes to mind whenever I travel afield with Charming Calvin since he moves at a snail's pace while I'm decidedly ... faster. Though age has slowed me down plenty, I'm still plenty quick enough to leave him quite literally in the dust. Which is one reason why I'm always spinning around every hundred metres or so to make sure he's at least ten paces behind. 

Otherwise I might actually lose sight of him. 

Which is what happened in a train station in Tokyo.

And yes, we've been there several times since that first time. That's another couple of stories to tell. 

Rush hour in Tokyo is a crazy madhouse with crowds rushing to and fro at maddening speeds, though Charming Calvin always seems spectacularly unfazed by the human chaos and methodically trudges his way down the steps. Me, akin to many other brash mainland Chinese passengers, I'm all too prepared to smack, shove and strain my way into the nearest possible train. Scrambling down the steps to see the train doors fortuitously open, I rarely think twice about stepping in. 

Made it right on time!

Moments before I of course swung around to find him as I usually do. Only to see the train doors gradually closing. It was like a movie sequence with everything slowed down to a staggering pause as we both stared at each other through the doors. I could practically hear Aqua singing. Perhaps I looked amused, I might even have waved. Calvin for sure looked absolutely aghast. 

Fortunately though it was something both of us had anticipated a long time ago - quite brainy the both us! - and even prepared several options for what to do after. First plan would be for me to hurry out at the next station and try to enter the following train at the same carriage.  

After that, I actually suggested hurrying him into stations and then pushing him into the train in front of me. Calvin wasn't too amused at that. 

Code Blue

There's actually more to us than just being the casual gas man at work. Over here in these parts, your friendly neighbourhood anaesthetists also wear another hat, the far more austere cap of an intensive care physician.

Not only do we knock patients under, we sometimes also keep them under for a much longer while in the intensive care department - apart from a myriad of other more onerous tasks ranging from life support to specialized medical therapies regulated to the patient at hand. Working in the shadows as it may be since most of our patients, hopefully if we do our job correctly by keeping them well and truly under, don't even recall our faces.
 
And that's the way we like it.

Which brings me to the topic at hand which is Code Blue, something we all dislike vehemently since not only does it involve some unfortunate life on the absolute precipice of free falling into oblivion, it also necessitates dropping everything we are doing at that moment to make a literal run for it. Seriously, I've been paged halfway through making out - exactly like what happens on those scandalous medical dramas.

Damn, is that your pager or mine?

But every little moment counts.

So it makes us even more agitated when we are confronted with the most ludicrous situations, like the one I had yesterday.

Doctor : Yes, you called? 
Nurse : There's a Code Blue. 
Doctor : Alright, what is it about? 
Nurse : It's a Code Blue. 
Doctor : Yes. What is it about? Tell me more. 
Nurse : It's a Code Blue. 

I could have sworn I was talking to a dictaphone. Or at least one of those mechanical voice messages that are put on a loop.

Rather than a junior nurse whose faculties seemed to have flown out of the premises the moment a Code Blue was called. Realizing that her greenness required some proper handling and patience, I refrained from reaching across magically through the telephone lines to strangle her properly.

And that was after asking repeatedly for the incidence that brought about the Code Blue. Yes, it was even more times than what I wrote above. Code Blue just means an emergency situation where a patient has suffered a cardiopulmonary arrest. What brought it about could be an infinite number of possibilities that would probably require all number of different medical procedures.

So you can imagine my consternation. Fortunately after the umpteenth time of trying to draw out the reason for the Code Blue, a far more senior nurse grabbed the phone away from her to explain.