Ok! So much has happened, where to start. My dear old (young) friend from high school came down with her girls last week and stayed a couple of nights at RMH with me. It was a very enjoyable few days full of fun and laughter. We fed the ducks at the pond behind RMH and finished up our back-to-school shopping while my volunteer (yes, I got her back, twice a week for 4 hours!) sat with Dilly. The one day at the hospital we were heading out to the playground for fresh air and as we stepped into the elevator a code blue came across the PA, saying the patient was at the west playground. I said out loud that that was where we were heading. My friend's eyes got big and she asked what it meant. I realized then that I had been desensitized. "Oh, it means somebody is unconscious." "What!?" "Yeah, cardiac arrest usually." She looked sick. "Does this happen a lot?" "Oh yeah, every few days." Security shouts at us to clear to the side as we step off the elevator. The streams of nurses and RTs and social workers begin to run by us, a stretcher, two nurses gasping saying something about going to the gym. We look through the window out to the playground and see the swarm of medical team gathered around a small body on the ground. My friend covers her girls' eyes, shielding them from the sight but really the trauma was hypothetical in our overactive adult minds. The kids just kept asking what was going on. Time slows and we hear the second page overhead, our hearts in our throats while we are frozen on the sidelines as the second wave of personnel run past, concern written on their faces. We wait at the glass, and finally the social worker (MY social worker) walks through the doors and smiles in relief. "It's a mock!" she says. "There aren't any mock parents to console so I'm off the hook." "A mock?" Color floods back into our world and our faces.  Somebody walks by and tapes a sign to the door "Training Exercise in Progress".  These are the roller coasters we ride at the hospital. Welcome to Funland.