Christmas presents on the lobby floor

An elderly guy puts his proudly-wrapped presents for his daughter, son-in-law, and grandkids in a couple of paper bags from the grocery store.  He goes down the elevator of his senior apartment complex with his wife, who is carrying a couple of the bigger presents.  An unexpected cement block of pain hits him in the chest, knocks his breath out and makes him sweat.  He tells his wife that something is wrong and that he should sit down for a moment.

As he makes his way to the bench in the lobby of his apartment building, he collapses and loses his pulse.  Presents fly all over the place as he spaghetti-noodle flops to the lobby floor in a random assortment of arms and legs.

Phone calls are made and coding chaos ensues; a responding EMT scoops up the presents, throws them in a big garbage bag and takes them on the rig with the patient.

I just want to say that there's just something especially sad about coding someone with a big bag of orphaned presents hanging out in the corner of the room.