The family wandered in and out of the room in a quiet dazed look. It was hard to not watch them. Worked hard to give them as much privacy as they needed. Although while taking report on the radio from another paramedic, I got distracted by a conversation I couldn't hear. I looked up and through the acrylic glass, I could see the parents backs. The MD was talking, and using his hands. And though I couldn't hear a word, I could tell by how he was pointing to his own eyes (pupils fixed, unreactive), his ear (another test for brain function), and how he shook his head sideways without thinking, he was telling them their child was dead.

The medics that brought him in did a good job from what I saw. If there is any chance of survival, the local paramedics will shelter those last embers of life.

With a pediatric arrest, the nurses do not go "through the motions" regardless of how unviable the situation is. At least for me, until the MD says stop, the emotional parts of the mind whisper in the voice of spirits, a prayer for miracles. I didn't work the arrest. That was the burden of another group of RN's. And when it was over, and the flow of patients resumed, someone complained about the wait. The reply is standard, "We've been busy."