#Resus Writing

[hiddendreamsstuff]

Content: time called, intentional overdose, compressions, defibrillations, intubation, devastated lover.

I found you in the tub with an empty bottle on the side. Your head has slid down the side of the tub and your nose is just above the water. Your hair floats around you. I don’t know if you expected me home or not- but here I am, finding you in this state. Terror washes over me.

My initial panic quickly dissolves into action… I call 911 immediately and give them the address. I pull the drain on the tub and I lay the towel out. I put my leg in the water, shoe and all, as I reach under your arms and hug you in towards me pulling you over the edge of the tub. I would have fallen over if not for the rubber of my shoe catching me, but my phone falls into the water with 911 still on the line, as I step out and lay you down to the ground. Your perfect body is completely still and I freeze again watching as your unmoving breasts gaze back at me.

Again, I am pulled to action and find myself on my knees with my ear just above your breast, my cheek on the soft skin and breast tissue itself. It is no surprise that I hear nothing, but my terror increases. “How long have you been like this?” I think to myself, my own breathing quickening. I quickly override my fear and move to your mouth and open it while lifting your neck; with my other hand I pinch your nose and seal my lips onto yours before blowing in. It does not seem you have ingested water as the breath makes your chest rise and fall, but your wet body is glistening under the harsh lights of the bathroom.

Now the moment I have been dreading…. I straddle you and place the my heels of my hands between your nipples and push down hard on your sternum. I immediately feel your ribs bend and crack. I let out a whimper, but push myself to keep going. “One two three four five six seven eight nine ten…” I count outloud trying to keep my mind focused on the movement and not the panic.

Tears stream down my face as I continue compressions followed by more exhalations into your lungs, your chest rising into mine as I do so. I put my ear to your naked chest just to be sure there is no pulse, as if that was not obvious already. “Nothing… nothing… fuck!” I whisper. I continue pressing deeply into your chest pumping your heart, your stomach rising into my own pelvis. I realize I have no other tools to save you; the ambulance is supposed to be on its way, my phone still in the tub I can’t tell how long I have even been doing this…. “Come on baby…” I scream out loud, but think to myself “how could you do this to me?”

I continue this process for what seems like forever until I hear the sirens followed by the front door being banged in. I don't stop, even though ever muscle in my body is burning and my heart is pounding. As I am breathing into you again, a medic pushes me out of the way and puts an ambu bag on you while a woman starts pumping your chest hard and fast. It is only out of shear exhaustion that I let them take over- I dont have the strength to fight them... I fall backwards into the side of the tub at your feet and let out a blood curdling scream, which does not phase your rescuers at all.

Your body is under their control now as they begin hooking you up to the monitor with leads and they assess your airway. They quickly decide to intubate you because you have been down for at least 15 minutes, which really means I have been working on you for 15 minutes prior to their arrival... who knows how long you have really been unconscious...

The woman continues pumping until the man takes a plastic hook and places it down your throat followed by a tube. He yells, "I'm in" and the woman begins pumping again. Another medic is monitoring your heart rate on the screen. They yell out for the woman to stop compressions for a pulse check. "Not shockable. Continue compressions," they say.

The medic notices the bottle on the floor and starts to question me about how much you took. All I can do is shake my head that I don't know. "How long was she down before you called?" I shake my head again. I am totally useless now that I have stopped working on you. The medic shakes their head, "Lets try some Narcan...," they say as they take a syringe out of the bag.

The woman never stops pumping and I am mesmerized by the continuous up and down motion of the compressions. . I watch your breasts cave in towards each other with intrigue. I barely notice the man who is bagging you at this point, but see your chest inflate occasionally. Nothing feels real right now.

After the medic inserts the syringe in your arm, followed by another they say, "epi is in, narcan is in- continue compressions for 30 seconds and we will do a pulse check and switch positions". Compressions are paused and the man and woman switch places. "Okay, we have a shockable rhythm. Going to shock her at 200j!" The medic takes the paddles and places them on your chest. "CLEAR!" Your chest jumps jump off the ground, your tiny breasts peaks of a mountain.... you fall back to the ground. "Nothing, shocking at 300! CLEAR!" Again, I watch your torso shoot up to the sky and fall back down. "Nothing continue compressions!" The man takes over and forces your chest into the ground even harder, crushing your chest and my soul at the same time.

I whimper and cry quietly as I watch. The team continues this routine for another fifteen minutes after the first round of shocks. They shock you two more sets of times, give numerous syringes of drugs, and endless compressions before the medic says "We have been working on her for 20 minutes and there were 15 before that. She has been a-systole for 8. We have shocked her 5 times at 360 and she is maxed out on drugs. Her total down time is unknown" says the medic... The others stare at them unsure what to say as I continue to be motionless in the corner of the room. "I think we have to call it" says the woman as she compresses your chest, having switched back to her initial position. She stops pumping and slowly pulls her hands back across your chest, her fingers brushing your nipples which are hard and erect from the cold air.

"No! NO! YOU CAN'T STOP!" I scream as I jump up and put my hands on your chest and start pushing down violently. The woman places her hand on my hand and says softly, "She is gone baby. I'm so sorry" as I continue pumping for a moment. I then collapse onto you, my head on your chest; my tears drop onto your breast and roll down the side. A police officer who I did not even notice had arrived tries to pull me off of you, but the woman stops him. "Let her be for now" she says as she strokes my hair from above....

[severedfromthesource]

Conscious/ semi conscious CPR my beloved

Patient moaning, groaning, whimpering during chest compressions as each thrust forces what precious little oxygen they have left out of their body. They’re sort of slipping in and out but they can see their rescuer trying so hard to keep them alive, pumping their heart above them

Them grabbing the rescuer’s wrists or reaching for their hands, not quite in their right minds. They don’t know their rescuer is keeping them alive, just that it hurts like hell and they just want it to stop.

Practically choking on the air being forced into their mouths via mouth to mouth or an ambu bag, their own oxygen intake is incredibly poor but the rhythm of breaths is going against the natural one their body is trying to take up. Or alternatively they desperately suck up any air they can get, grabbing at their rescuer and silently begging them to keep giving them air.

And defibs! Crying out as they’re shocked, clutching their chest. Rescuer feels like they’re hurting more than helping but their heart is just uselessly quivering and they have to do this to get it to beat. It’s just hard to justify when the person they’re working so hard to save is looking up at them with pained eyes and begging them to stop.

For my money there’s no better video example of this than What Do I Like About It- Ivy from 911biomed, highly recommend buying that video if you enjoy this trope

[kk095]

Kenzie’s Cardioversion

*good evening! Since my New Year's story didn't post the way I had hoped, I figured I'd post a different story I had saved. If you're interested in the new years story, I still have the read only link posted. Anyway, enjoy!*

The automatic doors of the emergency department slid open as a paramedic team wheeled Kenzie in on a stretcher. She was propped up, her broad shoulders and thick, sturdy, 5’11 frame making her look larger than life against the narrow confines of the gurney. Her light brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes darted nervously around the bustling ER. Dr Sarah, the on-call physician, approached with her clipboard, her demeanor calm. Nurse Heather trailed behind, ready for whatever was next.

“Kenzie Cole, 28 years old.” one of the paramedics began, keeping pace with the stretcher. “Fainted at home earlier today, now presenting with severe chest pain, palpitations, and a pinching sensation in the chest. BP’s stable at 118/77, but her heart rate’s been sitting around 130. EKG shows some irregularities we couldn’t immediately identify.” The medic continued, relaying the information.

Kenzie let out a shaky breath and winced as another wave of pain shot through her chest. “It feels like my heart’s tryin’ to jump right outta me!” she said, her southern accent soft yet evident. Dr Sarah placed a hand on Kenzie’s arm to ground her. “We’re going to take good care of you, Kenzie. I just need you to stay calm for me, ok?” Sarah told her patient. “Mhmm…” Kenzie nodded, a hand on her chest. “Let’s get her into Trauma Room two.” Sarah instructed the paramedics, continuing to wheel Kenzie further into the hospital.

Inside the room, the team moved quickly, transferring Kenzie onto the trauma room table as the medics made their way out. “Hey, I need a CBC, BMP, tox screen, d-dimer, cardiac enzyme, and HCG.” Sarah called out to Heather, who sprung into action, getting the necessary equipment for the battery of blood tests just ordered. Sarah then approached the table. “Kenzie, I need you to describe the pain to me again.” Dr. Sarah said, her tone steady. “It’s sharp, like somethin’s pinchin’ me real hard right in here…” Kenzie replied, pressing a hand against her sternum. “And my heart just won’t calm down…” added Kenzie, looking down at her chest. “Alright, let’s start her on a beta-blocker to bring that heart rate down.” Dr. Sarah said to Nurse Heather. Turning back to Kenzie, she added, “Kenzie? We’re running a few blood tests to try and figure out exactly what’s going on. In the meantime, I want you to take slow, deep breaths.” Kenzie nodded, though her eyes remained wide with worry. As the heart monitor beeped steadily in the background, Dr Sarah glanced at the slightly irregular EKG readout, her gut telling her there was more to this case than met the eye.

“How’re you holding up, Kenzie?” Dr. Sarah asked, glancing at the EKG monitor again. Kenzie gave a small, nervous smile. “I’m alright... Just wish my chest would stop feelin’ like this...” The patient answered. “We’re going to figure everything out.” Dr. Sarah reassured her. “First, let’s get a chest X-ray to see if there’s anything structural going on. Nurse Heather, will make it quick.” The cute, nerdy redheaded doctor continued. While Heather stepped aside to arrange the portable X-ray, Dr Sarah continued her examination, carefully pressing along Kenzie’s chest and ribcage. “Any pain when I press here?” inquired Sarah. Kenzie shook her head. “No, ma’am. The pain’s deeper, like… it’s on the inside.” Kenzie answered. Just then, Nurse Heather returned, wheeling the portable X-ray machine closer to the table. “Alright, Kenzie, I’m going to need you to sit up straight for me and hold your breath for a second.” Heather said as she positioned the X-ray plate behind Kenzie. As Heather worked, Kenzie tried to distract herself from the discomfort. “Y’all don’t sound like you’re from Tennessee, huh?” she remarked, her soft drawl making Heather smile. “Nope, born and raised in Virginia, but moved here after I got out of nursing school. “What about you?” Heather continued. “Tennessee through and through.” Kenzie said with a small laugh. “I grew up in Chattanooga. Moved here for work a couple years back. Still ain’t used to the winters, though!” The patient continued. Dr. Sarah chuckled. “Can’t blame you there. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I still complain about the snow every year.”

Heather stepped back and nodded. “All done here. It’ll take a second to get the x ray processed.”

Kenzie leaned back with a relieved sigh. “Thanks, y’all. I appreciate it.” Sarah smiled for a second “of course Kenzie, that’s what we’re here for!”

As they waited for the results, Nurse Heather took a seat beside Kenzie on a stool. “So, Chattanooga, huh? What brought you here again?” asked the young nurse. “Oh, a job offer I couldn’t turn down.” Kenzie explained. “It’s a big change, but I figured it was worth a shot. Didn’t think I’d end up in an ER like this, though.” Kenzie went on, looking down at her chest again, eyeing the wires and EKG electrodes stuck onto her. “Most people don’t, but I promise, we’ll get this sorted out.” Dr. Sarah said, pulling a chair over to review her notes.

Minutes later, the X-ray results popped up on the screen. Dr. Sarah leaned in, her brow furrowing as she examined them. “Well, it’s clear…” she said, a mix of relief and confusion in her voice. “No structural issues, no signs of fluid or anything else abnormal.” Sarah shook her head. Kenzie looked between Dr. Sarah and Nurse Heather, her expression turning more worried. “So… what now? Is that good or bad?” the patient asked. “Now, we have to dig deeper.” Dr. Sarah said with a reassuring smile. “We’ll probably order an echocardiogram. It just means we have to keep investigating. Don’t worry- we’ll get to the bottom of this, we always do sooner or later.” Sarah reassured. Kenzie nodded, though the uncertainty lingered in her blue eyes. She leaned back against the table, her accent softening as she murmured, “I sure hope so, Doc. I don’t like this one bit…” Dr. Sarah gave her arm a comforting squeeze before stepping out to confer with the team about the next steps.

A short time later, the portable echocardiogram machine was rolled into the room, and Dr. Sarah and Nurse Heather began preparing Kenzie for the next round of testing. Kenzie lay back on the table, her wavy, light brown hair cascading over the bed, and her blue eyes fixated on the machine. “We’re going to take a closer look at your heart, ok Kenzie?” Dr. Sarah explained, snapping on a pair of gloves. “This ultrasound will help us see how it’s functioning and if there are any structural abnormalities we couldn’t pick up on the X-ray.” Dr Sarah continued explaining. Kenzie nodded, her tan complexion slightly flushed, whether from nervousness or her condition was unclear. “I ain’t ever seen my heart before… Kinda strange to think I’m about to.” she said, her southern accent softening her words. “Most people haven’t. It’s pretty amazing, though- watching the heart work in real time.” Dr Sarah smiled. Heather applied a cool gel to Kenzie’s chest, and she flinched slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s a bit chilly.” Heather said with a grin, adjusting the probe as Kenzie relaxed. As Dr. Sarah began moving the probe across Kenzie’s chest, an image of her heart flickered onto the monitor. Kenzie’s eyes widened in curiosity. “That’s my heart?!” she asked, her voice tinged with awe. “Yep, that’s your heart, Kenzie.” Dr. Sarah confirmed, her attention divided between Kenzie and the screen. “Right now, we’re looking at the left ventricle- the part that pumps oxygenated blood to the rest of your body.” Explained the doctor, pointing to the screen with one hand. Kenzie’s gaze didn’t waver from the monitor. The rhythmic contraction of her heart was oddly mesmerizing to her- a tiny engine working tirelessly to keep her alive. “It’s kinda beautiful, ain’t it?” she murmured, a smirk on her face. “Never thought about it like that before.” Heather chuckled. “Most people don’t until they see it. It’s pretty remarkable.” Chimed in Dr Sarah, eyeing the ultrasound monitor. Dr. Sarah adjusted the probe, capturing different angles of Kenzie’s heart. The sound of the doppler flow filled the room, a rapid whooshing noise that matched the quick rhythm of her pulse. “Looks like it’s workin kinda hard.” Kenzie commented, her tone a mix of fascination and concern. “It definitely is.” Dr. Sarah said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she examined the images on the screen. “Your heart’s pumping well, but it’s moving faster than it should be. No obvious structural issues so far, which is good, but we’ll have to keep looking.” Sarah explained to the her patient. Kenzie’s curiosity didn’t waver. “Can y’all keep that thang over my chest for a another second? I just wanna look at my heart a little longer!” asked Kenzie, her tone oddly excited. Sarah shrugged, “why not.” Kenzie’s blue eyes lingered on the screen a moment longer, watching the steady rhythm of her heart. “It’s wild, y’all…” she said quietly. “That thing’s been beatin’ inside me since before I was even born. Never really gave it much thought ‘til now…” Kenzie thought out loud. Dr. Sarah gave Kenzie an encouraging nod. “You’re right- it is amazing. And it’s going to keep going while we figure this out! One step at a time.”

A little while later, there were still no answers. Sarah glanced at the monitor- Kenzie’s heart rate was climbing, and her EKG was shifting into a more worrisome rhythm. “Still no labs?” Dr. Sarah asked Nurse Heather, her tone sharp with urgency. “They’re backed up in the lab. I’ve called twice, but they’re swamped.” Heather shook her head, frustration etched across her face. “Alright, let’s focus on what we can do. For now, we’ll manage her symptoms and keep her stable until we get some answers.” Dr. Sarah shook her head. Kenzie, who had been lying quietly on the table, suddenly grimaced and pressed her hand to her chest. “It’s getting’ worse, Doc!” she said, her voice strained. “Feels like my heart’s ‘bout to burst…” Her eyes pinched shut for a second. Dr. Sarah sprung into action and stepped to her side immediately. “Dizzy? Short of breath?” asked the doctor. Kenzie nodded weakly. “Both! It’s like my chest is getting squeezed, and my head’s floatin’ away.” Explained Kenzie.

The monitor let out a louder beep, catching everyone’s attention. Dr. Sarah’s eyes snapped to the screen, where the EKG now showed a concerning pattern: stable ventricular tachycardia. Kenzie’s heart was beating dangerously fast, and the rhythm had taken on an ominously irregular look. “She’s in stable v-tach.” Dr. Sarah observed, her tone calm but urgent. “We need to start chemical cardioversion now. Heather, get me an IV push of amiodarone.” The doctor called out. Heather nodded and hurried to prepare the medication while Dr Sarah leaned over Kenzie. “Kenzie, your heart’s beating too fast, and we need to slow it down. We’re going to give you a medication that should help. You might feel a little strange when we do this, but we’re keeping a close eye on you.” Dr Sarah explained. Kenzie’s blue eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded. “Okay… just… just don’t let me die, alright?” Kenzie answered. Dr. Sarah squeezed her hand. “You’re in good hands. I promise.”

Heather returned with the syringe and began administering the amiodarone through Kenzie’s IV. Dr. Sarah kept a close eye on the monitor, watching for any sign of improvement. “Take slow, deep breaths, Kenzie.” Dr. Sarah instructed. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it. Stay with me.” Continued Dr Sarah. Kenzie closed her eyes briefly, her tan complexion now pale. The chest pain was unbearable, but she focused on her breathing, trusting the team around her.

Dr. Sarah kept her eyes glued to the monitor as the amiodarone infusion ran through Kenzie’s IV. The jagged peaks of the EKG line showed no signs of calming, the ventricular tachycardia holding steady. She glanced down at Kenzie, who was visibly struggling. Kenzie’s breaths came quicker now, shallow and labored, her hand gripping the thin blanket tightly. She moaned softly, her face contorted in pain, tears brimming in her wide blue eyes. “Doc… it’s not workin’..,” she uttered, her voice trembling. “It’s getting’ worse. Somethin’ ain’t just ain’t right…” Kenzie shook her head. Dr. Sarah placed a reassuring hand on Kenzie’s arm, though her own heart sank at the sight of the monitor. “I know, Kenzie. We see it. We’re not giving up- just hang in there a little longer for me, okay? We’ll get this under control.” Soothed Dr Sarah. Kenzie turned her head slightly, tears slipping down her cheeks as she winced again. “It hurts so bad…” she moaned, pressing a hand to her chest. “It feels like somethin’ inside’s about to explode!” her voice wobbled. Nurse Heather returned to the bedside, her expression a mix of calm professionalism and urgency. “Vitals are holding, but her heart rate is still climbing-160 and rising. BP’s 124 over 78, but I don’t like how pale she’s getting.” Heather called out. Dr. Sarah nodded, her mind racing. “We need to stabilize her before this escalates. Prepare for synchronized cardioversion. Let’s get the defibrillator ready and explain the process to Kenzie.” Sarah told Heather.

Heather moved swiftly to grab the defibrillator pads while Dr. Sarah knelt by Kenzie’s bedside. “Kenzie, we’re going to try another method to get your heart back to a normal rhythm.” she said, her tone calm but firm. “It’s called synchronized cardioversion. It’s a quick electrical shock, but we’ll give you something to make you comfortable beforehand. This is the next step we need to take.” Explained Dr Sarah. Kenzie’s eyes widened with fear, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Shock me?!” she asked, her voice breaking. “You’re gonna shock me?! But my heart’s still beatin!” Kenzie asked, trying to make sense of what was about to happen. Dr. Sarah nodded, her expression softening. “I know it sounds scary, but it’s controlled, and it’s necessary. Right now, your heart’s working too hard, and we need to help it reset. We’ll give you medication to relax you first- you won’t feel a thing.” Sarah tried to reassure. Dr. Sarah took a deep breath, bracing herself as she crouched next to Kenzie. The young woman’s fear was palpable, her tear-streaked face turned toward the ceiling as her chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths. “No, no, no!” Kenzie sobbed, shaking her head. “You can’t shock me while my heart’s still beatin’! That ain’t right! Please don’t do this to me!” resisted Kenzie. “Kenzie, I know this is scary.” Sarah began, her voice calm but firm. “I need you to listen to me, okay? Your heart’s in a dangerous rhythm. If we don’t intervene now, it could get way worse- this procedure will help your heart reset before that happens.” Sarah went on. Kenzie’s sobs grew louder, her hands clutching at the thin blanket draped underneath her. “But it’s beatin’! My heart’s still beatin’! Y’all don’t need to shock me! Please don’t do this!” Kenzie continued to resist. Nurse Heather moved closer, her voice gentle but steady. “Kenzie, I know this sounds terrifying, but synchronized cardioversion is different. It’s not like the shocks you see on TV during a code. We’re going to time it carefully with your heartbeat to reset your rhythm. You’ll be relaxed, and it’ll be over in seconds.” Heather chimed in. Kenzie turned her tearful gaze to Heather, her body trembling. “You promise I won’t feel it?” asked Kenzie nervously. “You won’t feel a thing, and we’ll be right here the whole time, keeping you safe. Heather assured her. Kenzie sniffled, her sobs beginning to subside as she processed their words. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, her breathing still uneven. “Alright…” she whispered shakily. “Alright, I’ll let y’all do it… but please… just get it over with so I’ll be alright.” Consented Kenzie. Heather nodded and began setting up the defibrillator, moving with practiced efficiency. “We’ll take good care of you, Kenzie. You’re doing great.” Smiled Heather.

As Heather peeled the adhesive backing off the defibrillator pads, she glanced at Dr. Sarah. “I’ll place these while you give her something to calm her down.”, to which Sarah nodded. Dr. Sarah met Kenzie’s gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “The procedure will be quick, and complications from this are very rare. You’re in good hands.” Sarah told her patient. Kenzie sniffled again, her tears still flowing but her demeanor more composed. She shivered slightly as Heather placed the first pad on her upper chest, the cool adhesive making her flinch. “Almost there, Kenzie.” Heather said softly, placing the second pad below Kenzie’s left ribcage. Kenzie nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please… just make me better…” Sarah rested a hand gently on Kenzie’s arm, squeezing it lightly. “We’re going to take care of you, Kenzie. Just relax- we’ll handle the rest.” Reassured Sarah. Kenzie nodded again, her blue eyes fluttering shut, though a single tear slipped down her cheek. “Okay…” she murmured.

As Sarah administered the medication and synchronized the defibrillator, a quiet settled over the room. The hum of the monitor and the faint rustle of equipment were the only sounds. The defibrillator began to hum, a low, rising tone that sent a fresh wave of fear through Kenzie. She moaned softly, her body tensing in nervous anticipation. “I can hear it…” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “Oh God, I don’t wanna do this again…” Kenzie thought to herself. Dr. Sarah leaned in, keeping her tone calm but firm. “Kenzie, I know this is hard, but you’re doing great. Just stay as still as you can, okay? We’re going to try the first shock now. It’ll be quick.”

Kenzie nodded shakily, her hands gripping the edges of the table. “Alright…” she whispered, barely audible “Clear!” Sarah called, ensuring everyone had stepped back before pressing the button. Kenzie’s body jolted briefly as the shock coursed through her. “Ooooo!” she grimaced, her face contorting in discomfort. As the jolt passed, she exhaled sharply, her chest heaving. “That’s… that’s it?” she asked breathlessly, blinking back tears.

Heather leaned over the monitor, scanning the EKG. The jagged, rapid peaks of ventricular tachycardia remained stubbornly unchanged. “No change,” Heather announced, her tone clipped and professional. Sarah’s face tightened, but she quickly masked her concern. She stepped back to Kenzie’s side, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. “Kenzie, I need you to listen to me.” she said gently. “The first shock didn’t work, so we’re going to try again. This happens sometimes. It can take more than one attempt to reset your heart.” Sarah reassured. Kenzie’s blue eyes widened, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “Again?!” she groaned, shaking her head. “You mean y’all have to shock me again?!” Kenzie’s voice wobbled. “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear.” Sarah replied, her voice steady but compassionate. Kenzie sniffled, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to compose herself. “Alright… just… just do it. I can’t take too much more of this...” she whispered hoarsely. Heather gave Kenzie’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re strong, Kenzie. We’ll get you through this.” Promised Heather. Sarah turned back to the defibrillator, resetting it for another shock. The hum of charging electricity filled the room once more, and Kenzie squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself. Sarah’s finger hovered over the controls. Kenzie braced for what was to come, unaware of how much her fight to survive would leave an indelible mark on everyone in the room.

The defibrillator charged again, the rising, electrical hum filling the room with a sense of tension. Sarah glanced at the monitor, the jagged peaks of Kenzie’s arrhythmia still unchanged. “Kenzie, we’re going to try another shock, okay? This one might do the trick.” Sarah eyed Kenzie for a moment. Kenzie barely nodded, her lips trembling as fresh tears streamed down her face. “Please… just make it stop…” she begged, her voice cracking. “Clear!” Sarah called. “AHHH!” Kenzie cried out in pain as the second shock hit her. Her body arched slightly off the table, her large frame twitching involuntarily before falling back against the table. Her breathing was heavy, and she clutched at the sides of the stretcher, her knuckles white.

Heather scanned the monitor. “Still in v-tach…” she reported grimly. Sarah sighed and crouched down next to Kenzie again. “Kenzie, I know this is hard, but we need to try again. I’m going to deliver a third shock. You’re doing so well- just one more try.” Sarah held Kenzie’s hand for a second. Kenzie moaned, shaking her head as her sobs grew louder. “No… no… I can’t do this anymore! Please, y’all, stop! I can’t take it!” she cried, her voice breaking. Heather leaned closer, her tone soft but insistent. “Kenzie, I know it hurts, but we’re trying to save your life. Just hold on a little longer and we’ll get through this together.” Reassured Heather. Kenzie couldn’t speak, her cries turning into gasping sobs. Sarah nodded at Heather, her expression resolute. “Charging…” Sarah said, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Clear!”

Kenzie let out a piercing scream as the third shock dashed through her. Her 5’11 frame twitched violently on the table, her legs briefly lifting off the bed. She collapsed back with a loud yelp, clutching her chest as tears streamed down her face. Heather’s eyes remained on the monitor, her expression tight. “Still no conversion, Sarah.” she said quietly. Sarah hesitated for only a moment before addressing Kenzie again. “Kenzie, I’m so sorry, but we need to deliver one more shock. This could be the one that works.” Sarah gently strokes Kenzie’s hair for a second. Kenzie’s head snapped up, her tear-streaked face a mask of anguish. “NO!” she screamed, her voice raw and trembling. “Y’all better not shock me again! I can’t! No more!” she resisted. She clutched at her chest, sobbing uncontrollably as the sound of the defibrillator charging filled the air once more. The hum grew louder, relentless, as Sarah and Heather exchanged a quick glance, each understanding the weight of the moment. Sarah crouched down again, her voice as soothing as she could make it despite the chaos. “Kenzie, I know you’re scared. I know this is hard. But we have to keep trying. You’re stronger than this- you can do it.” Kenzie shook her head frantically, her sobs wracking her entire frame. “No… no more… please…” she whimpered, but the charge was ready, and time was running out.

“Clear!” Sarah called as the defibrillator delivered its next shock. Kenzie’s body jolted violently again, her toes curling involuntarily at the end of the stretcher. Her large, size 13 feet tensed up hard, exposing the soft, thick wrinkles in her soles, and the faint sheen of her white toenail polish glinted under the fluorescent lights. She let out a sharp cry as the electrical current coursed through her, her frame trembling before collapsing back onto the table. Heather’s eyes remained glued to the monitor, her heart sinking as the v-tach persisted. “Kenzie?” Heather leaned over, her tone calm, trying to mask her growing concern. “We’re going to shock again, okay? We’re not giving up.” Heather explained. “NO!” Kenzie sobbed, her voice trembling with terror. Tears streamed down her face as she gripped Heather’s hand tightly, her fingers digging in. “No more, please… I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die!” Her voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I’m so scared!” Sobbed Kenzie.

Heather gave Kenzie’s hand a reassuring squeeze, locking eyes with her. “Kenzie, listen to me.” she said, her voice steady and soothing despite the chaos. “You’re not going to die. We’re going to fix this. You’ve been so strong- we’re not giving up on you.” Heather told her patient. Kenzie sniffled, her sobs growing quieter but no less heart-wrenching. She nodded faintly, her chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Okay… Just… just help me…” she uttered, her voice barely audible. Heather brushed a strand of light brown hair from Kenzie’s forehead. “We will.” she promised softly, even though deep down, she couldn’t shake the growing ominous feeling in her chest. The sound of the defib pads charging up filled the air again, rising in pitch. Time was running out, and the unrelenting rhythm on the monitor told a story none of them wanted to face.

“Clear!” Sarah’s voice rang out as she pressed the button to deliver another shock. Kenzie’s body tensed violently, her busty chest thrusting forwards as the current surged through her. “AHHH!” she yelped loudly, the sound echoing through the trauma room. Her hand shot to her chest, clutching it tightly as if trying to shield herself from the pain. Her tear-filled blue eyes darted between Sarah and Heather, no longer seeing the compassionate caregivers who had reassured her moments ago. Instead, her gaze was filled with fear and betrayal, as if she were staring at two torturers. Kenzie gasped heavily, her breaths labored and erratic. “I… I can’t… I…” Her words broke into a series of hyperventilated sobs. Her eyes dropped to her chest, her face growing increasingly pale. She started taking deep, dramatic gasps, her whole body shaking. “Kenzie, stay with us!” Heather urged, moving closer and resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me- slow breaths in and out.” Heather continued. Sarah leaned over the monitor, watching her vitals closely. “Kenzie, we need you to stay strong for us, ok?” she added, her voice steady with subtle worry. But Kenzie didn’t respond. Her gasps grew shallower and slower until her eyes glazed over, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her body slumped back onto the table as her muscles went limp. “She’s unresponsive!” Heather called out, moving quickly to check for a pulse. “Crap. Start bagging her!” Sarah instructed, her own heart racing as she glanced at the monitor. Kenzie’s heart rhythm had degraded further. “Get the crash cart back over here! We need to act now!” Yelled Sarah.

“Heather, let’s move!” Sarah commanded, her voice sharp as the team sprang into action. Heather immediately lowered the bed and positioned herself beside Kenzie. Grabbing a pair of trauma shears, she snipped through the fabric of Kenzie’s bra in one swift motion, exposing her chest and large, natural breasts. She interlaced her fingers and placed her hands in the center of Kenzie’s chest, beginning firm, rhythmic compressions. Heather’s compressions, steady and precise, caused Kenzie’s body to shift slightly with each push. The sound of her effort filled the room, accompanied by the steady beeping of the monitor. “Come on, Kenzie, don’t do this…” Heather muttered under her breath as she worked tirelessly on Kenzie.

At the head of the bed, Sarah was laser focused on securing Kenzie’s airway. With practiced efficiency, she opened the intubation kit and inserted the laryngoscope into Kenzie’s mouth, maneuvering it carefully to visualize her vocal cords. Her own breath hitched for a moment as she caught sight of Kenzie’s wide, lifeless blue eyes staring blankly up at her. It was an eerie sight, as though Kenzie was silently witnessing the scene around her. “Tube ready.” Sarah said, sliding the 8.0 endotracheal tube smoothly into place. She secured it with one hand while quickly inflating the cuff with the other. “I’ll start bagging.” Sarah called out, attaching the ambu bag after taping the tube in place. The rise and fall of Kenzie’s chest with each squeeze provided a slight glimmer of hope amid the urgency. “Pulse check!” Heather called after completing her cycle of compressions, her face flushed. Sarah leaned over, her fingers pressing against Kenzie’s carotid artery. She shook her head. “Still no pulse. Resume compressions.” She instructed. Heather nodded and immediately began another round, her hands pressing deeply into Kenzie’s sternum. Each compression caused a ripple through Kenzie’s body, her large frame shifting around. Kenzie’s chest caved in hard, her large breasts juggling around in sync with each individual compression. Kenzie’s belly rippled out as Heather continued pumping away at her chest. “Epinephrine, one milligram, IV push.” Sarah ordered, not taking her eyes off the monitor. Sarah got the medication ready, and administered it into Kenzie’s IV line. “Let’s prep for another shock, she’s not converting.” she added, the tension in her voice rising. “Charging to 200 joules. Everyone clear!” shouted Sarah. Heather momentarily stepped back, lifting her hands off Kenzie’s chest as Sarah delivered the shock. Kenzie’s body jerked sharply on the table, her arms and legs twitching before falling limp once again. “Resume compressions.” Sarah ordered, her tone resolute. Heather immediately leaned back over Kenzie, resuming the relentless compressions, her hands pressing into Kenzie’s sternum with tremendous force.

Heather positioned her gloved hands firmly on Kenzie’s chest, her fingers interlocked and arms locked straight. With each forceful compression, Kenzie’s body shifted on the table, her chest visibly caving under the violent pressure. “five, six, seven…” Heather silently counted in her head as she delivered deep, rhythmic compressions. The monitor beeped steadily with no signs of improvement, the jagged waves of ventricular fibrillation mocking the duo’s efforts. After two minutes of relentless CPR, Sarah glanced up. “Okay, everyone, . Charging to 300 joules.” Sarah called out as Heather backed away from the patient. Heather stepped back, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as the defibrillator charged. The hum of the machine filled the room, a sound that made everyone hold their breath. “CLEAR!” Sarah pressed the button, releasing the shock. Kenzie’s body flopped violently on the trauma room table, her head rolling slightly to one side as the electricity coursed through her. A sharp, guttural gasp escaped her lips- a reflexive response to the shock rather than a sign of life. Heather’s eyes flicked to the monitor. No change. The unrelenting v-fib pattern still dominated the screen. Sarah sighed heavily, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “Still in v-fib. Resume compressions.” Sarah shook her head. Heather immediately moved back into position, pressing her hands against Kenzie’s chest once more. The force of each compression sent ripples through Kenzie’s sturdy, motionless frame, her pale skin glistening under the harsh overhead lights. “Come on, Kenzie…” Heather murmured under her breath, her voice almost pleading.

Heather’s hands moved mechanically as she continued chest compressions, but her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Just a short while ago, Kenzie had been laughing nervously, chatting about her home in Tennessee, her southern accent adding a charming warmth to the conversation. Now, that same vibrant young woman lay motionless beneath her hands, her life slipping further away with each compression. “She was fine… she was fine…” Heather muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the whoosh of the ambu bag and the occasional beeps of the monitor. Her jaw clenched as she fought back a wave of frustration and helplessness, tears threatening to blur the young nurse’s vision.

At the head of the bed, Sarah worked diligently, her gloved hands adjusting the ambu bag between compressions to ensure Kenzie’s lungs were properly inflated. But her focus was fractured, her thoughts gnawing at her composure. “Did I miss something?” Sarah’s mind replayed the entire case like a film on fast-forward. Kenzie’s EKG abnormalities, the unsuccessful cardioversion attempts, the worsening symptoms. Had there been a sign- something subtle, that she’d overlooked? “She trusted us…” Sarah whispered, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on her chest. Her voice was so low that no one else heard it. She swallowed hard, pushing the guilt aside as best she could. There was no time for self-incrimination. Heather’s voice broke through the tense silence. “Another two minutes of compressions done.” she announced hoarsely, stepping back as Sarah moved to check the rhythm. The monitor still displayed the chaotic, disorganized waves of v-fib. Sarah closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She had to stay strong for both Heather and Kenzie. “We’ll go another round,” Sarah said, her tone firm but betraying the faintest tremor of weariness. Heather nodded, stepping back into position, but she couldn’t shake the haunting image of Kenzie’s wide, terrified eyes as she begged them not to shock her again. Heather’s heart ached as she resumed compressions, the repetitive motion a grim reminder of how fragile life truly was. During this cycle of compressions, the air in the room grew heavier, the emotional strain palpable. Despite their best efforts, the team felt the creeping despair of a battle they feared they might lose.

Heather’s hands returned to Kenzie’s chest without hesitation, delivering powerful, forceful compressions. Each downward thrust sent subtle ripples through Kenzie’s thick, sturdy frame, a stark contrast between her strong build and her fragile condition unnerving to the team. “Charging to 360.” Sarah announced, her voice steady despite the hectic battle ensuing in the room. The defibrillator’s high pitched whine filled the air as it prepared for the next shock. “Clear!” Sarah called, stepping back as Heather moved aside. The shock was delivered, and Kenzie’s body arched slightly, her feet kicking up reflexively at the end of the table. Less than a second later, her feet plopped back down unceremoniously, her large feet landing with a soft thud, the deep, wide, prominent wrinkles in her soles on full display. Despite the dramatic response, the monitor’s display remained unchanged, with v-fib continuing to display. Heather let out a shaky breath, immediately resuming compressions. “Come on, Kenzie…” she murmured, her voice a mixture of determination and desperation as she continued to press into Kenzie’s bare chest. “Pushing another dose of epi.” Dr Sarah called out, her focus unwavering.

“Let’s prepare for another round.” Sarah instructed, glancing briefly at the clock. The code had been ongoing for several minutes, but she refused to give up just yet. Heather maintained the cycle of compressions, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead as she worked tirelessly to sustain circulation. The team worked in near-perfect synchronization, their actions precise and deliberate. “Hold compressions, Heather.” Sarah said, reaching for the defibrillator controls. The pads were once again recharged to 360 joules as Heather stepped back from the table. “CLEAR!”

The next shock was delivered, the current visibly jolting Kenzie’s body once more. Her arms shifted slightly, and her chest rose briefly before settling back down, but the monitor’s erratic waves refused to stabilize. “No change.” the nurse confirmed solemnly. Sarah clenched her jaw, her mind racing through the remaining options. “Resume compressions.” she ordered. Heather obliged without hesitation, her hands returning to their task as Sarah began to strategize the next steps.

The atmosphere in the trauma room grew heavier with each passing minute. The monotony of the code-compressions, medications, shocks- was relentless, each cycle blurring into the next. The monitor stubbornly displayed the chaotic, disorganized rhythm of ventricular fibrillation, its jagged peaks a grim reminder of Kenzie’s condition. Heather’s movements remained methodical, but her exhaustion was evident in the faint tremble of her arms as she pushed down on Kenzie’s chest. “Come on… come on Kenzie…” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. She fought the mounting dread gnawing at her, unwilling to accept the thought that their efforts might be in vain. “Another dose of amiodarone in.” Sarah informed Nurse Heather, her voice sharp despite the weight in her chest. She wiped her brow with the back of her glove, glancing at the clock on the wall. The minutes ticked by with an almost mocking speed, the relentless pace of time a cruel contrast to the stagnant rhythm on the monitor. “We need to shock. Charging to 360 again.” Sarah said, her voice steady but her stomach twisting. Heather stepped back as the defibrillator charged, the familiar high pitched whine filling the room like a warning bell of sorts. “CLEAR!” Sarah called, pressing the button. Kenzie’s thick body twitched slightly, her head tilting back as the shock coursed through her, but the monitor remained unchanged. “No response.” the nurse said quietly, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. Heather stepped back into position, her hands returning to Kenzie’s chest. Her compressions were just as strong as the first cycle, but the emotional toll was starting to show. Heather avoided looking at Kenzie’s face at all costs, the sight of her lifeless eyes too much to bear. “We’re going to shock again, pushing another dose of epi and atropine first.” Sarah decided, almost her voice almost mechanical, as if detaching herself emotionally could shield her from the growing sense of failure. She caught herself glancing at Kenzie’s face, the memory of her vibrant personality from earlier flashing in her mind. The dread in Sarah’s gut turned into a cold knot. The duo continued, but the energy in the room was shifting. The once vivid determination had given way to a quiet desperation, each team member acutely aware that they were likely fighting a losing battle.

Trauma room two was filled with the incessant beeping of the monitor and the rhythmic thumping of Heather’s compressions. Kenzie’s body shuddered under Heather’s strong hands, her chest rising and falling with the brute force. “Charging to 360.” Sarah said again, her voice strained but composed as she prepared for yet another shock. The defibs whined as it powered up. “CLEAR.” Sarah called. Heather stepped back, her hands hovering as the shock was delivered. Kenzie’s body tensed, her head tilting slightly, and a faint, involuntary moan escaped her lips- a reflex, nothing more. Heather immediately resumed compressions, but the monitor showed no change. V-fib stubbornly persisted, as deadly and unrelenting as it had been since the start of the code.

Minutes blurred together, each one a cruel thief of hope. Heather kept going, her hands now aching with fatigue, her breaths short and heavy. At the head of the bed, Sarah leaned over Kenzie’s face, shining a pen light into her wide, unblinking eyes. Kenzie’s head bobbed slightly with each compression, her lifeless gaze fixed on nothing. Sarah straightened up, exhaling sharply as she slid the pen light back into her scrub pocket. “Pupils fixed and dilated.” she announced quietly, her tone edged with defeat. She checked the clock on the wall. “Kenzie’s been down for 35 minutes, still in v-fib.” Continued Sarah. Heather hesitated, her movements faltering for the first time. She stopped compressions, her hands lingering on Kenzie’s chest before she finally stepped back, her lips pressed into a thin line. The room fell silent except for the relentless alarm of the heart monitor, the jagged peaks of v-fib still mocking the duo’s efforts. Sarah scanned the room for a moment, before looking at Heather, her own face a mask of exhaustion and guilt. Finally, she drew a deep breath and made the dreaded announcement, “Time of death… 14:47…”

The words hung In the air, heavy and final. Heather swallowed hard, her hands clenched at her sides as she stared at Kenzie’s lifeless form. For a moment, no one moved. “Let’s clean her up…” Sarah said softly, breaking the silence. The room was somber as the team began the grim process of postmortem care. Dr. Sarah remained at the head of the bed, her movements mechanical as she detached the ambu bag from the ET tube, setting it aside. Her fingers lingered briefly on the monitor before she reached for the power. button, silencing the alarm that had marked every failed moment of the code. Heather worked delicately at Kenzie’s side, removing the IV lines from her arms and disconnecting the EKG wires. She peeled off the defib pads from Kenzie’s chest, each movement feeling heavier than the last. Her eyes darted to Kenzie’s face- a face frozen in its final, terrified expression. Kenzie’s wide, unblinking blue eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, a hauntingly beautiful stillness overtaking her features. The ET tube remained in place, its end hanging awkwardly out of her mouth, brushing lightly against her pale lips. Heather’s throat tightened at the sight of the death stare, a memory she knew would be impossible to erase.

Sarah filled out a toe tag, her pen scratching softly against the paper. She paused for a moment, as if the simple act of writing Kenzie’s name made the loss feel all too real. With a steadying breath, she knelt by Kenzie’s left foot and slipped the tag onto her big toe. It dangled there, brushing against the deep, thick wrinkles in the soles of Kenzie’s feet- a stark, unyielding symbol of the young woman’s untimely fate. Heather stepped back as Sarah got a cover from a nearby drawer. Together, they pulled the cover up and over Kenzie’s still form, concealing the lifeless gaze that had captivated and haunted them in equal measure. The trauma room grew quiet, except for the shuffle of their feet as they moved around the bed. The finality of it all settled over them, heavy and suffocating. Dr. Sarah placed a hand gently on Heather’s shoulder. “Let’s take a minute, Heather.” she murmured, her voice heavy with emotion. Nurse Heather nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the covered body before them. No matter how many times she went through this process, the weight of loss never grew lighter. Just like that, Kenzie became the latest beauty to find herself toe tagged and under a sheet in our emergency department.

[defiblover27]

Curiosity

In the dimly lit room of the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), monitors beeped rhythmically, casting an eerie glow over the scene. Tubes and wires snaked around the bed, connecting the unconscious patient to various machines, a testament to the intricate dance of modern medicine. Amidst this symphony of medical intervention lay Sarah, a 28-year-old mother of one, her chest rising and falling with the aid of a mechanical ventilator.

Sarah's journey to this sterile environment had been nothing short of harrowing. It began like any other day, with the sun rising gently over the horizon, promising another day of routine and responsibilities. Little did she know that fate had other plans in store.

As Sarah went about her duties at work, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her, her vision blurring at the edges. Ignoring the warning signs, she soldiered on, determined to fulfill her obligations. But fate is relentless, and as Sarah reached for a file on her desk, her world went dark.

The next thing she knew, Sarah was surrounded by chaos. Voices clamored in the background, urgent and panicked, as hands worked feverishly to save her life. She felt disconnected, as if watching the scene unfold from a great distance.

Sarah had suffered a sudden cardiac arrest, her heart faltering in its rhythmic dance, sending her spiraling into the abyss of unconsciousness. But amidst the chaos, there were heroes. Co-workers sprang into action, initiating CPR with precision and urgency, their hands pounding rhythmically against her chest in a desperate bid to keep her alive.

Minutes stretched into eternity as the battle for Sarah's life waged on. The paramedics arrived, their arrival heralded by the wail of sirens piercing the air. With deft efficiency, they took over, administering life-saving interventions as they raced against time.

Sarah was whisked away in the belly of the ambulance, her body jostling with each turn of the road, a fragile vessel caught in the storm of uncertainty. Yet, through the haze of unconsciousness, there was a flicker of hope, a beacon guiding her through the darkness.

Arriving at the hospital, Sarah was met by a team of skilled medical professionals, their faces etched with determination as they fought to wrest her from the clutches of death. In the trauma room, amidst the flurry of activity, Sarah's heart faltered once more, her life hanging in the balance.

And now, as Sarah lay in the quiet stillness of the ICU, surrounded by the steady hum of machines, she began to stir. Consciousness seeped back into her, like tendrils of light piercing the darkness, illuminating the path to her awakening.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, blinking against the harsh glare of the overhead lights. Confusion clouded her mind as fragments of memory pieced themselves together, forming a disjointed narrative of her ordeal. As Sarah gazed around the room, her eyes fell upon the figure of a nurse, her expression a mix of relief and concern.

As the nurse calls for the doctor, the atmosphere in the room shifts slightly, anticipation mingling with apprehension. Moments later, the door swings open, and in strides the doctor, his presence commanding respect and authority. With a gentle smile, he approaches Sarah's bedside, his eyes betraying the gravity of the situation yet brimming with reassurance.

"Good morning, Sarah," the doctor begins, his voice a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of medical equipment. "I'm Dr. Martinez, and I'll be overseeing your care today."

Sarah's gaze meets his, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flickering in her eyes. She nods weakly, her throat dry and parched from the prolonged intubation.

"I'm going to remove the breathing tube now, Sarah," Dr. Martinez explains gently, his tone measured yet compassionate. "It may feel uncomfortable for a moment, but I'll be right here with you every step of the way."

With practiced hands, Dr. Martinez begins the delicate process of extubation, his movements fluid and precise. Sarah feels a fleeting sense of panic wash over her as the tube is slowly withdrawn from her throat, a sensation akin to being freed from a suffocating embrace.

As the last remnants of the tube are removed, Sarah takes a deep, shuddering breath, reveling in the newfound freedom to breathe on her own once more. Weakly, she raises a trembling hand to her throat, the absence of the tube a tangible reminder of the ordeal she has endured.

Turning her gaze to Dr. Martinez, Sarah's voice is barely above a whisper as she croaks out her question, "What... What happened?"

Dr. Martinez's expression softens, his eyes filled with compassion as he settles himself on the edge of her bed. With patience and empathy, he begins to recount the events that led Sarah to this moment – the sudden cardiac arrest at work, the heroic efforts of her co-workers and the paramedics, and the tireless work of the medical team to bring her back from the brink of death.

As he speaks, Sarah listens intently, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. She feels a surge of gratitude welling up within her, mingled with disbelief at the sheer magnitude of what she has endured.

"I'm... I'm alive," Sarah murmurs, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you... Thank you for saving me."

Dr. Martinez nods, his smile warm and genuine. "You're welcome, Sarah. We're just glad to have you back with us."

As Dr. Martinez finishes recounting the sequence of events leading to Sarah's resuscitation, he pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. With a solemn nod, he continues, "There's something else you should know, Sarah. A camera crew had been in the trauma room from the moment you arrived until the moment you were wheeled out after being resuscitated. They captured everything on video."

Sarah's eyes widen in disbelief, her mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of Dr. Martinez's words. "A camera crew?" she repeats, her voice tinged with incredulity.

Dr. Martinez nods gravely, his expression mirroring Sarah's disbelief. "Yes, it's part of a documentary series on emergency medicine. They were granted permission to film in the trauma room, and your case was one of the ones they chose to document."

As the reality of the situation sinks in, Sarah feels a mix of emotions swirling within her – shock, confusion, and a touch of apprehension. The thought of her most vulnerable moments being captured on film for all to see fills her with a sense of unease.

"I... I don't know what to say," Sarah murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I had no idea..."

Dr. Martinez offers her a reassuring smile, his eyes filled with understanding. "It's understandable, Sarah. This can be a lot to process, especially given everything you've been through. Just know that your privacy and dignity were maintained throughout the filming process, and any footage that is used will be handled with the utmost sensitivity."

Sarah nods slowly, a sense of resignation settling over her. Though the idea of her ordeal being broadcast for the world to see is unsettling, she takes comfort in knowing that her journey may serve to educate and inspire others.

"Thank you for letting me know, Dr. Martinez," Sarah says softly, her voice tinged with gratitude. "I suppose... I suppose it's just another part of my story now."

Dr. Martinez nods in agreement, his gaze steady and reassuring. "Indeed it is, Sarah. And it's a story of resilience, courage, and the incredible strength of the human spirit. You've been through a lot, but you've emerged stronger because of it."

"Sarah, we have the footage," Dr. Martinez replies, his voice gentle. "The hospital kept the undoctored footage, which spans a total of 35 minutes."

Sarah takes a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she processes the reality of what Dr. Martinez has just revealed. The idea of reliving her most vulnerable moments on screen is both terrifying and strangely compelling.

After a moment of internal struggle, Sarah meets Dr. Martinez's gaze, her eyes filled with determination. "May I... May I view the footage?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

Dr. Martinez's expression softens, his eyes reflecting empathy and understanding. "Of course, Sarah," he replies gently. "But I want to remind you that it may be difficult to watch. It's okay to feel overwhelmed or emotional. You don't have to do this if you're not ready."

Sarah nods, her resolve firm despite the uncertainty swirling within her. "I know," she murmurs. "But I need to see it. I need to understand what happened, and... and maybe it will help me make sense of it all."

With a reassuring smile, Dr. Martinez reaches for the remote control, activating the monitor mounted on the wall across from Sarah's bed. The screen flickers to life, bathing the room in a soft glow as the footage begins to play.

As the footage begins to roll, Dr. Martinez's voice fills the room, his steady narration guiding Sarah through the unfolding events. With a sense of trepidation, Sarah watches as the scene unfolds before her eyes.

"There you are, Sarah," Dr. Martinez's voice cuts through the silence, his tone calm yet informative. "You're on the gurney, and we've just applied oxygen to help support your breathing."

Sarah's breath catches in her throat as she sees herself lying on the stretcher, her chest rising and falling beneath the oxygen mask. The realization of her own vulnerability hits her like a tidal wave, and she clutches the edge of her blanket tightly, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

With each passing moment, Sarah feels a growing sense of admiration for the individuals on screen – the doctors, nurses, and paramedics who have dedicated their lives to the noble pursuit of saving others. Their faces blur together in a symphony of determination and compassion, their actions a testament to the unwavering commitment to their craft.

As the electrodes are applied to her chest, Sarah feels a surge of anxiety gripping her heart, her pulse quickening with each passing second. But as Dr. Martinez's reassuring voice fills the room, a sense of calm washes over her, and she finds solace in the knowledge that she is not alone in this battle.

As the footage progresses, Sarah watches with a mix of curiosity and discomfort as she sees herself laid bare on the hospital bed, illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights that cast stark shadows across the room. Tubes and wires crisscross her body like a spider's web, their purpose and function a mystery to her.

Dr. Martinez's voice cuts through the silence, his tone gentle yet informative as he begins to explain the array of tubes and wires adorning Sarah's form.

"Here, you can see the various tubes and wires that are helping to support and monitor your condition, Sarah," Dr. Martinez narrates, his voice a soothing presence amidst the sterile environment of the hospital room. "Let me explain what each of them does."

As Sarah watches intently, Dr. Martinez gestures towards the different apparatus attached to her body, each one serving a vital role in her care.

"The tube you see here is an endotracheal tube," Dr. Martinez explains, his finger tracing its path from Sarah's mouth down into her throat. "It's connected to the ambu bag, which is helping to support your breathing by delivering oxygen-rich air directly into your lungs."

Sarah feels a surge of unease at the sight of the tube protruding from her mouth, a stark reminder of her dependence on the medical team keeping her alive. Yet, amidst the discomfort, there is a sense of gratitude for the gift of breath, a simple yet profound reminder of the fragility of life.

"And these wires here," Dr. Martinez continues, indicating the array of electrodes attached to Sarah's chest, "are monitoring your heart rhythm. They allow us to track any changes in your cardiac activity and intervene if necessary."

Sarah's gaze lingers on the electrodes, their presence a constant reminder of the battle raging within her own body. Yet, as Dr. Martinez speaks, she finds reassurance in the knowledge that she is being closely monitored, her heart guarded by the watchful eyes of the medical team.

As the footage unfolds, Dr. Martinez continues to explain the purpose of each tube and wire, his voice a steady guide through the labyrinth of medical technology. And though the sight of herself laid bare under the harsh lights is unsettling, Sarah finds solace in the knowledge that each apparatus serves a vital role in her journey towards recovery.

As the footage progresses, Sarah's heart rate monitor begins to emit a shrill alarm, its urgent tone slicing through the silence of the hospital room like a knife. Sarah's eyes widen in alarm as she watches herself on screen, her heart sinking as she realizes what is happening.

Dr. Martinez's voice fills the room once more, his tone urgent yet composed as he narrates the unfolding events. "Sarah, your heart has gone into ventricular fibrillation," he explains, his words tinged with urgency. "We need to act quickly to restore a normal rhythm."

Sarah's breath catches in her throat as she watches a nurse spring into action, her movements swift and decisive as she begins aggressive CPR. With each compression, Sarah sees her body jolt with the force of the nurse's hands, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic dance of life and death.

As the nurse continues to administer CPR, Sarah feels a surge of emotion welling up within her – fear, helplessness, and a profound sense of gratitude for the individuals fighting to save her life. She watches in awe as the medical team works tirelessly to bring her back from the brink of death, their hands moving with precision and purpose amidst the chaos of the emergency room.

And amidst the flurry of activity, Sarah's body reacts in ways she never thought possible – her chest bruising under the force of the compressions, her skin growing pale and clammy as oxygen struggles to reach her vital organs. Yet, amidst the pain and discomfort, there is a glimmer of hope – a beacon of light guiding her through the darkness towards the promise of a new day.

As the minutes tick by, Sarah feels a sense of desperation creeping in, her heart pounding in her chest as she watches the scene unfold before her eyes. As the nurse continues to administer CPR, her movements unyielding and relentless.

As the tense scene unfolds on screen, Sarah watches with bated breath as the nurse reaches for the defibrillator paddles, her movements swift and purposeful. The air crackles with anticipation as the paddles are charged and gelled, their metallic surfaces gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room.

Dr. Martinez's voice fills the room once more, his tone grave yet authoritative as he explains the significance of the defibrillator paddles and the gel used to conduct electricity.

"Sarah, what you're seeing are the defibrillator paddles," Dr. Martinez begins, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "They deliver a controlled electric shock to the heart in order to restore a normal rhythm."

Sarah's eyes widen in alarm as she watches the nurse place the paddles on her chest, their cold metal pressing against her skin like a reminder of her own mortality.

"And the gel that you see being applied to your chest is a conductive gel," Dr. Martinez continues, his words a steady reassurance amidst the chaos of the emergency room. "It helps to ensure a good connection between the paddles and your skin, allowing the electric shock to be delivered safely and effectively."

As Sarah watches herself being defibrillated multiple times, each shock sending her body jolting with the force of a thousand volts, she feels a surge of emotion welling up within her – fear, pain.

With each shock, Sarah's body convulses with the force of the electricity coursing through her veins, her muscles tensing and releasing in a symphony of agony and relief.

As the cycle of CPR and defibrillation continues on screen, Sarah's heart clenches with each shock, her body convulsing in response to the jolts of electricity coursing through her veins. The room is filled with a sense of urgency, the air heavy with the weight of each passing second.

Dr. Martinez's voice fills the room once more, his tone grave yet determined as he narrates the unfolding events. "Sarah, they're nearing the 20-minute mark," he explains, his words a stark reminder of the critical nature of the situation. "They'll need to assess your pupils to determine your neurological status."

Sarah watches with bated breath as the charge nurse steps forward, her expression focused and intent as she carefully inspects Sarah's dilated pupils. The room falls silent as the nurse conducts her examination, her movements methodical and precise.

And then, the moment of truth arrives – the nurse's gaze meets Dr. Martinez's across the room, her expression a mix of relief and apprehension. With a nod, she confirms the results of her assessment, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

"The pupils are reactive," the charge nurse announces, her words ringing out like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of uncertainty.

As the tension in the room mounts and the critical twenty-minute mark approaches, Sarah watches with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she braces for what comes next. The air is thick with anticipation, the weight of each passing second bearing down on her like a heavy burden.

And then, as if on cue, a nurse steps forward, her expression somber yet determined as she addresses the medical team gathered around Sarah's bedside.

"We're nearing the twenty-minute mark," the nurse announces, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "I recommend we consider stopping resuscitation efforts."

Sarah's heart skips a beat at the nurse's words, her mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of what she's just heard. "Stop?" she whispers, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Martinez steps forward, his expression grave yet compassionate as he meets Sarah's gaze. "Sarah, I know this is difficult to hear, but after twenty minutes of continuous resuscitation efforts, the chances of a successful outcome diminish significantly," he explains gently. "We need to consider the possibility that further interventions may not be effective."

Sarah's breath catches in her throat, a wave of fear and disbelief crashing over her like a tidal wave. The thought of giving up, of admitting defeat in the face of insurmountable odds, is almost too much to bear.

"But... but I'm still here," Sarah protests, her voice tinged with desperation. "I'm still fighting. Please, don't give up on me."

Dr. Martinez's gaze softens, his eyes reflecting empathy and understanding. "We're not giving up on you, Sarah," he assures her, his voice a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions swirling within her. "But we also have to consider what's best for you in this moment."

As the medical team discusses their options, Sarah's mind races with a million thoughts and questions. How did she end up here? Is this how it all ends?

As Sarah watches the final moments of the video unfold, a sense of dread washes over her as she sees herself once again succumbing to ventricular fibrillation. The tension in the room is palpable, the air thick with anticipation as Dr. Martinez prepares to deliver the decisive shock.

With each passing second, Sarah feels the weight of the moment bearing down on her like a heavy burden. The fear and uncertainty grip her heart, threatening to overwhelm her as she braces herself for what comes next.

And then, in a flash of blinding light, Dr. Martinez delivers the final shock, his movements swift and precise. Sarah's body convulses with the force of the electricity coursing through her veins, her muscles tensing and releasing in a symphony of agony and relief.

As the shock reverberates through her body, Sarah feels a surge of emotion welling up within her – fear, pain, and a profound sense of gratitude for the individuals fighting to save her life. With each passing moment, she feels herself teetering on the edge of oblivion, her grip on life slipping away with each heartbeat.

And then, in a moment that seems to stretch on for an eternity, a collective sigh of relief fills the room as the sound of a heartbeat echoes through the monitors. Sarah's eyes widen in disbelief as she realizes what she's just heard – the sweet, steady rhythm of life coursing through her veins once more.

Tears prickle at the corners of Sarah's eyes as she watches herself on screen, her heart overflowing with gratitude for the gift of another chance at life.

As Sarah watches herself being wheeled away to the ICU, a sense of apprehension settles over her like a heavy shroud. The journey ahead feels daunting, filled with uncertainty and the looming specter of what lies beyond.

Dr. Martinez's voice fills the room once more, his tone solemn yet determined as he is interviewed about Sarah's condition. "Sarah is far from out of the woods," he explains, his words echoing in the silence of the hospital room. "Her neurological assessments in the coming days will be crucial in determining her fate."

Sarah's heart sinks at Dr. Martinez's words, the gravity of her situation weighing heavily on her mind. The road to recovery seems long and arduous, fraught with obstacles and unknowns at every turn.

As she watches the interview unfold, Sarah finds herself clinging to the hope that she will emerge from this ordeal stronger than before. She knows that the days ahead will be filled with challenges, but she refuses to let fear and uncertainty dictate her fate.

Sarah, stunned by what she has just seen asks "Can you show me the one of those defibrillators like in the video?".

As Sarah's request catches Dr. Martinez by surprise, he pauses for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion. The notion of Sarah wanting to see the crash cart with the defibrillator paddles and gel seems unusual given the gravity of her recent experience. However, he quickly realizes the importance of providing her with the opportunity to gain a better understanding of the equipment involved in her resuscitation.

"Of course, Sarah," Dr. Martinez replies, his expression softening with understanding. "I'll bring the crash cart into the room so you can take a look."

Moments later, Dr. Martinez returns with the crash cart, wheeling it carefully into Sarah's ICU room. The gleaming silver paddles and tubes of conductive gel catch the light, casting an otherworldly glow in the sterile hospital environment.

Sarah's eyes widen with curiosity as she surveys the contents of the cart, her gaze lingering on the defibrillator paddles and gel that had caught her attention during the resuscitation. She reaches out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of the paddles as she examines them with a mixture of fascination and trepidation.

"These are the defibrillator paddles," Dr. Martinez explains, his voice gentle as he gestures towards the equipment before them. "And this gel here is the conductive gel we use to ensure a good connection between the paddles and the patient's skin during defibrillation."

Sarah nods, her mind swirling with questions and emotions as she absorbs the significance of the equipment before her. "Can you demonstrate on me?".

As Sarah makes her request, Dr. Martinez pauses, considering her words carefully. It's an unusual request, but he understands Sarah's need for understanding and control in this moment of uncertainty. With a nod, he agrees to her request, his expression one of empathy and support.

"Of course, Sarah," Dr. Martinez responds gently, his tone reassuring. "I'll show you how the defibrillator works and position the paddles as they were in the video. Just let me know if you're comfortable proceeding."

Sarah takes a deep breath, her resolve firm as she nods in affirmation. "Yes, please," she says softly, her voice steady despite the lingering sense of trepidation. "I want to understand."

With careful precision, Dr. Martinez begins to demonstrate the operation of the defibrillator, explaining each step in detail as he guides Sarah through the process. He shows her how to charge the paddles, how to apply the conductive gel, and how to position the paddles on the chest in the correct placement.

As Sarah watches intently, her eyes focused on the equipment before her, she feels a sense of empowerment wash over her. Though the sight of the defibrillator paddles is unsettling, there is also a strange sense of comfort in knowing that she has the knowledge and skills to potentially save a life in the future.

And as Dr. Martinez positions the paddles on her chest, mirroring the placement from the video, Sarah feels a surge of emotion welling up within her – fear, uncertainty, and a profound sense of gratitude for the opportunity to learn and grow from her experience.

"Thank you, Dr. Martinez," Sarah says softly, her voice tinged with emotion. "Thank you for helping me understand."

Dr. Martinez offers her a reassuring smile, his eyes reflecting pride and admiration for Sarah's resilience. "You're welcome, Sarah," he replies gently. "Remember, knowledge is power. And with the knowledge you've gained today, you have the power to face whatever challenges lie ahead."

And as Sarah pulls her hospital gown back up, she feels a newfound sense of confidence coursing through her veins.

As Dr. Martinez leaves the room, the crash cart remains behind, its contents gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights of the ICU. Sarah's gaze lingers on the equipment before her, her mind swirling with thoughts and emotions as she reflects on the video she had just watched.

The images of her own resuscitation replay in her mind like a haunting melody, each moment etched into her memory with vivid clarity. The sight of the defibrillator paddles, the sound of the alarms, the feeling of her own body convulsing with each shock.

As Sarah's hand reaches out towards the crash cart, a sense of determination courses through her veins, her heart pounding with a fierce resolve. With steady hands, she grasps the defibrillator paddles, feeling the cool metal against her skin as she pulls her hospital gown down, exposing her chest.

With practiced precision, Sarah applies the conductive gel to the paddles, spreading it evenly across their surface. The familiar sensation of the gel against her skin sends a shiver down her spine, a stark reminder of the events that had unfolded just hours before.

As she positions the paddles on her chest, Sarah feels a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The weight of the moment hangs heavy in the air, the silence of the room broken only by the steady hum of medical machinery.

With a deep breath, Sarah charges the paddles to 100 joules, her fingers trembling slightly as she prepares to deliver the shock. Her heart races in her chest, her pulse pounding in her ears as she braces herself for the impact.

And then, in a flash of blinding light, Sarah presses the paddles against her chest, feeling the electric current surge through her body with a jolt of intensity. The sensation is overwhelming, sending her muscles into a frenzy of convulsions as her body responds to the shock.

As Sarah takes her self-administered defibrillation to the next level she charges the paddles to 200 joules, a sense of determination fuels her actions, her heart pounding with adrenaline as she prepares for what lies ahead. With resolute hands, she adds more conductive gel to the paddles, ensuring an optimal connection for the shock she is about to deliver.

With meticulous care, Sarah spreads the gel across the surface of the paddles, her movements deliberate and focused. She knows the risks involved in what she is about to do, but she feels herself becoming aroused by the power she holds in her hands.

As she positions the paddles on her chest, Sarah's breath catches in her throat, her pulse quickening with anticipation. With a steady hand, she charges the paddles to 200 joules, her fingers trembling slightly as she prepares for the impact. As Sarah's body succumbs to the intense shock she administered to herself, a wave of dizziness washes over her, her vision blurring and her breath growing shallow. With a sense of impending doom, she feels her heart falter, its rhythm becoming erratic and irregular.

As Dr. Martinez enters Sarah's room with a sense of concern weighing heavily on his mind, he is met with a sight that sends a shiver down his spine. Sarah lies sprawled on the bed, her hospital gown down around her waist, and the defibrillator paddles scattered on the floor beside her.

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Dr. Martinez rushes to Sarah's side, his heart pounding with urgency as he assesses her condition. The gravity of the situation is clear – Sarah is in distress, her body limp and unresponsive, her breaths shallow and labored.

With swift, decisive movements, Dr. Martinez retrieves the fallen paddles and places them back on the defibrillator unit, his hands trembling slightly with adrenaline. But even as he does so, he knows that time is of the essence – Sarah's life hangs in the balance, and every second counts.

Without hesitation, Dr. Martinez reaches for the code blue button, his thumb pressing down on the button with a sense of grim determination. The shrill sound of the alarm echoes through the hospital corridors, summoning the medical team to Sarah's bedside with a sense of urgency.

As the sound of footsteps fills the room and voices clamor for attention, Dr. Martinez focuses all his attention on Sarah, his mind racing with the knowledge that her life is in his hands. With practiced precision, he begins to assess her vital signs, his fingers moving with purpose as he searches for any signs of life.

As the medical team continues with the harsh CPR compressions and defibrillator shocks, the gel glistens on Sarah's chest, a stark reminder of the relentless battle being waged to bring her back from the brink of death.

With each compression, Sarah's body jerks with the force of the impact, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of life being forced back into her lungs. The room is filled with the sound of shouts and commands, the urgency of the situation driving the medical team to push themselves to the limit in their efforts to save her.

Dr. Martinez watches with a mixture of determination and desperation, his hands moving with practiced precision as he directs the resuscitation efforts. Though the odds may seem insurmountable, Dr. Martinez the defibrillator paddles are charged once again, Dr. Martinez braces himself for the next shock, his heart pounding in his chest with anticipation. With a steady hand, he delivers the shock, the electric current coursing through Sarah's body with a force that threatens to break her fragile form.

As Dr. Martinez gazes into Sarah's blank, unseeing eyes, a pang of guilt tugs at his heartstrings. The weight of responsibility bears down on him like a heavy burden, threatening to suffocate him with its enormity. He knows that Sarah's fate now lies in his hands, and the pressure to save her life feels almost unbearable.

With steady hands and a mind clouded with worry, Dr. Martinez reaches for the intubation equipment, his movements automatic yet precise. The familiar routine of inserting the endotracheal tube feels like second nature to him, but this time, the stakes are higher than ever before.

As he positions the tube and guides it into Sarah's airway, he can't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of his conscience. The guilt of knowing that he bears the weight of Sarah's life on his shoulders threatens to overwhelm him, but he pushes the feelings aside, focusing all his attention on the task at hand.

With the tube securely in place, Dr. Martinez takes a moment to catch his breath, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts and fears.

With Sarah's intubation completed, the medical team continues their rigorous efforts, their movements synchronized and precise. Each compression drives deep into Sarah's chest, causing her ribs to bend under the relentless pressure. Her belly bounces in response, her feet sway off the side of the bed, and her arms hang limply, bouncing with each forceful thrust.

Dr. Martinez stands at the forefront, his eyes never leaving Sarah's lifeless form. The urgency in the room is palpable, the air thick with tension as the team works tirelessly to bring her back from the brink. The gel glistens on her chest, a stark reminder of the desperate measures being taken to revive her.

Minutes feel like hours as the cycle of CPR and defibrillation continues. The defibrillator paddles deliver shock after shock, the electric current surging through Sarah's body with unrelenting force. Her body convulses with each jolt, a macabre dance of life and death playing out before their eyes.

Despite their efforts, Sarah's heart refuses to find its rhythm. Dr. Martinez checks her pupils once more, finding them still fixed and dilated. The weight of the situation presses down on him, each second that passes without a heartbeat driving home the grim reality of their fight.

As they approach the 20-minute mark, a nurse suggests considering the cessation of their efforts. Dr. Martinez hesitates, his mind racing with the gravity of the decision. Just as he begins to accept the inevitable, Sarah's heart converts to ventricular fibrillation. Seizing this final glimmer of hope, Dr. Martinez orders another round of shocks.

The team responds with renewed intensity, the defibrillator charging to its maximum capacity. The paddles are pressed against Sarah's chest once more, and the room holds its collective breath as the shock is delivered. Sarah's body jolts violently, her muscles contracting with the force of the electric current.

But despite their valiant efforts, Sarah's heart remains stubbornly unresponsive. Another 10 minutes of rigorous CPR and defibrillation pass, the team's energy waning with each passing second. The reality of the situation becomes increasingly undeniable.

Finally, with a heavy heart, Dr. Martinez makes the call. "Time of death: 11:42 AM," he announces, his voice thick with sorrow. The room falls silent, the weight of their failure hanging heavy in the air.

The medical team steps back, their faces etched with exhaustion and grief. Dr. Martinez looks down at Sarah's still form, a sense of profound loss washing over him. Despite their best efforts, they were unable to save her. He removes his gloves, the sound of the latex snapping echoing in the room, a stark reminder of the battle they fought and lost.

As the team begins to clean up, Dr. Martinez lingers for a moment longer, his thoughts heavy with the weight of what has transpired. He knows that they did everything they could, but the sense of guilt and responsibility remains, a burden he will carry with him long after he leaves this room.

[dr-fetish37]

rejuvenecimiento pt.2

habían pasado un par de semanas después de mi cirugía, lo primero que había hecho después de salir del hospital había sido comprar varios paquetes de pañales para adulto, no me había preocupado en que tipo de pañales comprar pues no creí que hubiera de varios tipos hasta que descubrí mi cama mojada una mañana después de dormir con un pañal delgado así que tuve que volver a la farmacia por un paquete de pañales más grandes y gruesos, antes de mi cirugía acostumbraba a dormir desnuda por lo que ahora dormir con el grueso y cómodo material de los pañales me era algo extraño pero no desagradable.

la doctora me había dicho que había una posibilidad de operar mi incontinencia pero aún no estaba segura de si quería someterme a otra cirugía vaginal, pues ahora esta habría a mi vagina y ano hipersensibles para que pudiera sentir cuando tuviera necesidades fisiológicas.

sin embargo, cuando me interne para la cirugía las cosas se tornaron difíciles para mí y mi sistema cardiovascular, me encontraba acostada en la camilla, con una gorra quirúrgica, vistiendo únicamente mi pañal cubierta con una sábana, los doctores me habían tenido que intubar para la cirugía y habían tapado mis ojos con gasas y cinta médica, cuando comenzaron a suministrar la anestesia, mi corazón comenzaba a latir con pesadez, hasta que se detuvo por completo, escuchaba a las enfermeras moverse con prisa.

la doctora comenzó a hacer presión en mi pecho, mis senos brincaban al ritmo del RCP, mi cabeza se movía de arriba a abajo en la almohada, mi pelvis también se contraía haciendo sonar el pañal rozando contra la camilla, de tanta fuerza que los doctores estaban generando sobre mi cuerpo, había orinado mi pañal.

"carguen 160, uno, dos tres ¡despejen!"

después de un minuto de constante y duro rcp, la doctora se acercó a mis senos con las paletas

la doctora descargo las paletas contra mi pecho, haciendo que mi tronco se arqueara y mis senos rebotaran, mi cabeza se pegó más contra la almohada y se movía de un lado a otro, mi pelvis se alzó en en aire dando un golpe fuerte a la nada que rompió mi columna, el pañal volvió a sonar sobre la camilla.

"carguen una vez más, está vez 360, uno dos tres ¡despejen!"

nueva mente la ginecóloga descargo las paletas contra mis senos, mi pelvis se alzó en el aire contrayendo mi vagina y mi ano, por la fuerza de la contracción mi vejiga volvió a soltar orina mojando más el pañal, una vez que mi pelvis dejó de estar en el aire, cayó von fuerza sobre la camilla haciendo que mo cabeza y mi tronco se alzarán hacia adelante, al caer de nuevo a la camilla mis senos brincaron en todas direcciones con los pezones erizados por la electricidad.

aún nada, mi corazón seguía sin latir, cuando de repente mi cuerpo comenzó a convulsiónar, mis pechos se movían y temblaban de un lado a otro, mi pelvis se alzaba en el aire y caía chocando contra la camilla, mi cabeza se movía de un lado a otro y de arriba hacia abajo, el monitor se había vuelto loco.

después de 7 minutos de convulsionar, los monitores dieron por perdida mi actividad cerebral, por lo que la doctora acercó las paletas desfibriladoras a mi cabeza yas descargó en mis sienes.

mi pecho y pelvis se alzaron bruscamente en el aire y ahí se mantuvieron por al menos 15 segundos mientras la doctora descargaba las paletas en mi cabeza, en un ciclo de 15 minutos de intentar regresar mi actividad cerebral.

antes de darme por muerta, la doctora retiró mi pañal, y colocó a cada lado de mi vagina desfibriladores, también colocó uno en cada uno de mis senos y finalmente volvió a colocar las paletas en mi cabeza, y descargó los tres al mismo tiempo, todo mi cuerpo tembló, mi pelvis y mi pecho se movían de arriba a abajo, mi cabeza rebotaba suavemente contra la almohada y la doctora mantenía los desfibriladores en mis sienes, mis senos rebotaban de arriba a abajo de manera exagerada y mi vagina soltaba orina y aire.

después de 20 minutos más de desfibrilación finalmente fue declarada mi hora de muerte.

"hora de muerte: 1:29 a.m. paciente: jean causa: paro cardio respiratorio"

las enfermeras se encargaron de quitarme los cables y los tubos, colocaron algodón a lo largo de mi vagina y mi ano, también en mi nariz y mi boca, y al terminar, llevaron la camilla con mi cuerpo desnudo sobre ella a la morgue.

[clarepreed]

Micro-Story: Faulty

Story Content and Summary: 1,750 words. Micah's wife succumbs to a fault in a futuristic prosthetic heart. No EMS. On-site resuscitation.

--

Fuck!

The way she fell, first stiffening, then going boneless and collapsing in a heap before he could reach her. The way she fell, her face slack and her eyes rolling back. The way she fell pulled a silent curse from him, one he kept repeating as he skidded to his knees beside her, the accidental impact of his body rocking hers in the dirt.

“FUCK!” Micah finally shouted, losing control, his hands shaking as he reached for her, already knowing what was wrong as his fingers pressed into her neck.

Goddamn artificial heart. First mass-produced cardiac replacement piece of shit!

The artery beneath his fingers lay still, and her light eyes stared half-lidded up at him, even as her mouth slanted open and her lungs stuttered air.

Recalled.

He unzipped her coat and spread it wide, then dug in his pocket for his knife, flipping it open. Her hands curled, body shaking as her brain freaked the fuck out at the sudden lack of oxygenated blood. Micah sliced his blade through the collar of her t-shirt, then tossed his knife to the side and gripped her shirt with both hands. The shirt tore down to her navel and he spread the fabric wide open, reaching next for the small, rectangular lump just below her collarbone and above the cups of her lavender bra.

Recalled, and a fucking waiting list…

He pressed the center of the implant, just like he’d pantomimed with her before, when he’d printed the reset instructions from the manufacturer’s website. This time, he felt a button click, depressing firmly and then popping back up beneath his fingers.

“Come on, Gretchen,” he breathed, quiet now as he reached for the butterfly clasp of her bra. He popped it open as she gave another rattling agonal breath, quickly spreading the cups and sliding his fingers down to the tiny display implanted laterally. The miniature monitor glowed red, awakening with the activation of her reset button. He pressed the center of the glowing light three times, initiating the reset sequence.

Stay calm! the instructions had advised. The heart WILL restart!

“I’ve got you,” Micah gasped, his hands skimming over her chest and settling low on her sternum, along the line of her first surgery scar.

Okay. I have to be her heart and lungs until the device restarts. 

He linked his fingers, rolled his shoulders over his hands, and started pumping.

“One, two, three…”

His mind flashed back to the little practice mannequin he’d bought and subsequently worn out in the basement where she couldn’t see him desperately trying to learn. Terrified that one day, before she could get in to surgery, her replacement heart would glitch out and take Gretchen away from him forever. 

What good is a heart that resumes beating ten, twenty, forty-five minutes later if her brain is dead?

“…thirty!” Micah leaned down and quickly tipped her head back before pinching her nose closed and drawing a deep breath. Strands of her silken hair clung to her face and his fingers as he gripped her jaw with his other hand. He held her mouth open and covered her lips with his, exhaling, watching her chest rise out of the corner of his eye. Micah broke the seal and felt his recycled air waft over his face before giving her a second.

He returned to her chest, his voice shaking as he started counting. Gretchen’s ribcage sank and her breasts wobbled as he worked, the force rocking her head from side to side. Each time he pressed down, her navel popped up in a harsh seesaw motion. Her shoulders shrugged rhythmically, body bending to the force of his love.

“Huh, huh, huh…” Breathless sounds slipped from her parted lips as he reached thirty again.

Her soft mouth beneath his felt lifeless, already cool to the touch of his overheated skin. Another breath, her cheeks rounding out, neck swelling slightly as the breath made its way down her airway. Micah turned, quickly getting back into position for compressions, his hands skimming her smooth skin as he found his landmark.

“One, two, three…” Her breast felt soft under his fingers as the heel of his stacked hands thrust into her. Her nipples, erect in the cool autumn air, pointed briefly inward with each hard compression. Oblong tracks appeared in the dirt beneath her slim-fingered as her body danced to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“…twelve, thirteen…”

Her brainstem stopped trying to make her breathe as her eyes locked on nothing, already glassy with death. Shadows gathered beneath her eyes.

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

A glance down toward her feet showed him that her entire body twitched with each thrust, legs rocking, toes drawing little circles in the air.

“Please, Gretchen!” he begged, before giving her another deep breath. Her breasts swelled once, twice. His eyes darted to the illuminated display in her side as he resumed chest compressions. One line, regular and jagged, represented his chest compressions. The second line, however, lay flat. Asystole.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve…”

Micah rocked into her chest, forcing himself to work as perfectly as he was capable, judging his compression depth with a critical eye and keeping the rhythm going as he counted. Each harsh thrust forced her sternum to squeeze blood from the useless artificial organ. As he pressed, her belly rounded against the waistband of her leggings, the hollow of her navel riding the crest of each wave. Sunlight stretching through the canopy dappled her body, leaves rustling as he shifted on his knees. A snoring sound abruptly emitted from Gretchen’s throat.

“…Christ! Thirty!” He sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with his, closing her nostrils just in time. Again, the air puffed out her cheeks and throat visibly. A thin string of saliva pulled between them as he broke the seal long enough to let her body exhale. Micah pressed his lips to hers again and gave her another breath. Then his hands slammed back into the center of her chest, fingers quickly linking. “One, two, three, four…”

“Hurk, huh, huh, hurk…”

“…nine, ten…” Her chest popped, the sensation crackling under his palm. He kept at it, watching her sternum and ribcage sink and bob beneath the strength of his pumping arms as he hoped, begged, that his effort was good enough.

“…sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…” Watching the wave of force ripple down her abdomen, eyes burning, he choked back the tears that threatened to fall.

Let this be enough. Let me be enough…

As he bent for mouth-to-mouth, he thought of her that morning, legs spread wide beneath him, mouth ripe for the taking, skin so soft as he stroked her. Now, she lay lifeless beneath him, her mouth slack and her eyes staring as he forced air into her silent lungs. The flat line on her prosthetic monitor haunted him as he shifted back over her bruised, motionless chest. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, even as the sensation of her body softening under his hands sent a wave of nausea rolling through him.

“…nine, please just start beating, fuck, come on! PLEASE! Fifteen, sixteen…” Micah worked desperately, letting his weight fall into his hands. She made abortive grunts as he thrust down into her chest, air escaping her lungs in harsh wheezes. “…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty—”

BEEEEEEEP! An artificial sound cut through his panic.

“Gretchen?!” Micah leaned closer, hands shifting to frame the heart prosthesis screen. The chest compression line disappeared, but beneath it, where the flatline had been…

A rhythm!

“Gretchen!” Micah lunged, planting his hands to either side of her head. Her face tipped slightly to the side, skin ashen, eyelids slightly lifted. He moved one hand to her face, patting her cheek gently at first, then harder. “Honey? Gretchen!” Micah’s eyes trailed over her mottled chest, looking for signs of life. Despite her beating heart, Gretchen remained completely still. 

He moved a hand over her mouth, suspicion leading him to feel for breath that apparently wasn’t coming. Fear made him shiver as he bent to open her airway and tip his ear close to her pale lips. He hovered there, silently counting out the seconds as the dead air spread between them. 

With a groan of anguish, Micah crashed his mouth into hers, the angle of his face blocking her nostrils as he filled her lungs, pressure forcing a buzz of air out of the corners of their mouths. He pulled back enough to feel the air drift across his face, remembering then to pinch her nose. His eyes grazed the display embedded into her side, reassuring himself that the artificial heart still beat. Then he gave her another breath, the fingers of his other hand gently stroking the soft skin of her throat as it expanded beneath his fingertips.

“Please, Gretchen…” His plea came out quiet and broken. “I was right here. I helped you. Please!”

Another breath. His mind filled with awful thoughts. Gretchen dead, Marcus forced to sign paperwork to remove the heart surgically prior to her burial. Gretchen in long-term care, unable to recognize him or care for herself. His Gretchen, dead as her body lived. His eyes grew wet as he exhaled a fourth breath. 

As he broke the seal, Gretchen flinched beneath him and sucked in a shallow, ragged breath. Micah gasped and cupped her face with both hands, watching as her eyelids fluttered. “That’s it, Gretchen! Just breathe! You’re okay. I love you, you’re okay!” He shook with relief, his eyes blurring with tears as she coughed and gasped and moved her hands weakly. She curled them onto her chest, covering the redness there and letting out a soft groan.

Micah brushed her hair back from her face and then covered her hands with his. “I’m sorry. I know you’re in pain. Just open your eyes for me so I know you’re alright.”

Gretchen complied, her eyelids peeling open. She blinked several times before her eyes focused, latching on to his own. “Micah,” she whispered, barely audible. 

Micah shuddered and curled over her, pressing his forehead to hers and choking out: “Thank you… Thank you! Oh, I love you…”

“Love you…” she wheezed. “S’okay…”

His fingers threading in her hair, Micah wept.

[defibrillate-the-hidden]

An audio remix of @prismgenixz70 self resus video posted with permission thanks so much for letting me work on this project

[heartmassage]

Sauna Arrest

3 987 / 5 000

I was working at the pool as a lifeguard at the time. You have to start your career somewhere. There is one day I will never forget... Once I was transferred with a friend to the sauna area. Many narrow passages, different types of saunas. Probably the best part of the pool to watch over. "I guess no one will drown in the sauna" - I joked, justifying my easy work.

I was totally naive... That day I learned how difficult rescue operations in the sauna are. Walking around the facility on Tuesday (Tuesday was a day when there was usually no one, or maybe there were few people)

I heard a scream from one of the sauna chambers. Concerned, I approached the Finnish sauna. Through the open door I saw a man (an elderly man) throwing ice at a woman lying on the ground. "Help, she must have overheated!" He screamed.

When I saw this I quickly realized what was happening. "Marry!, we have a big problem, quickly, CPR bag!" I shouted to my friend, also the second rescuer. I saw perfectly what happened...

A woman lying on the ground weighing easily over 230 pounds. First thing, I wanted to get her out of the sauna. I had a big problem with that but the guy helped me and we threw her limp, hot body on the cold tiles.

I knelt down, checked her breathing - nothing, no pulse was felt. I quickly ripped her one-piece swimsuit at the neckline. Her huge breasts spilled out to the sides, revealing the place where I would soon get my fingers tangled. I started CPR on straightened arms. I pressed her chest as hard as I could, but it didn't resemble the compressions performed on the training mannequin.

She was huge. I had the impression that I couldn't break through her chest to properly perform a heart massage. However, I pumped her furiously. Vomit was coming out of her mouth. The obese woman's body was pulsating rhythmically and her breasts were bouncing strongly every time I hit her chest.

After a while, Marry appeared with a resuscitation kit. "Get her some air and do artificial respiration!" I ordered my colleague. Unfortunately, inserting the oropharyngeal tube was difficult due to her mass and how hard I was shaking her body by performing cardiac massage. "The ambulance is on its way," Marry announced. However, I tried to focus on properly resuscitating the woman. Her body was making strange splashing sounds every time it hit the tiles. My hands on her chest seemed terribly small.

We started giving her oxygen - but to no avail. Merry took out the lifepack and put the pads on her chest. "Analysis, it's VFIB!" "Charge 360!" "Clear!" The woman's body jumped and only a flat line remained on the monitor. "No reaction! Now you pump." I changed with my colleague, but her small hands were not even able to reach the patient's heart with a blow. I had to pump her again. It seemed like an eternity to me. The paramedics arrived at the scene.

They deployed their defibrillator and started strong chest compressions. They defibrillated her about 4 times before the sinus returned. The problem occurred when trying to put her on the stretcher, but with effort it worked.

However, the woman's heart had had enough of her lifestyle. She stopped right after they put her in the ambulance. Through the ajar door I saw Lucas massaging her enormous breast.

I saw her huge belly jump high with each blow between her big tits. "Nothing fucking nothing" - I heard the sounds of the paramedics. However, her heart jumped on. Between the series when Lucas brutally pumped the obese woman, they loaded the defibrillator over and over and shot at her. I saw her legs tense and relax after the shot. They shocked her over 12 times!

Then she went back to a flat line. I watched her body jerk as they worked on her. They put so much meds in her that they burned her heart several times. The roar of Lucas and the creaking of the stretcher she was on stopped...

"Time of death - 4:56 pm"

[breathlessangelrh]

[hiddendreamsstuff]

Oddly specific resus kink: having the pulse come back just long enough to have everyone relax before the alarms start going off again and they are back at it.

Or they get a couple minutes. They might even start to transport. Then they are totally unprepared when the portable monitors start screaming again in the hallway, too far away from the trauma room to go back but not close enough to the ICU to have the resources needed. Now they are doing a resuscitation in the middle of the hallway. A nurse straddling the patient to give compressions as the others race back to the ER.

[severedfromthesource]

Bite Back

Pt 1/3

Original concept from @delicious-beats. Contains F resus, M rescuer, LUCAS thumper, automated CPR, mouth to intubation tube, depictions of gore, trying to resuscitate a zombie

Blackened veins ran in a spiderweb from the holes in Luffy’s shoulder. She shouldn’t have even been out, Elijah had told her again and again, the fucking news had told her, the trucks with megaphones and military personnel blaring up and down her street for the past ten hours had told her. But she needed to know he was okay. She was always trying to look out for him. He’d never hated her selflessness more than right now. 

Her skin was bloodless, her usual dark brown hue sapped until she was completely ashen, the circular row of splotchy red teeth marks and black fissures of veins the only real color left to her body. Her heart was beating arrhythmic on the monitors as the ambulance tried to find a path forward through the streets choked with people fleeing. Her head rolled back on her neck and she looked up with bleary eyes towards him. 

“Eli,” she choked out, her throat tight to the point of almost closing up. 

They’d dealt with bite victims all day. They’d lost all of them, and then had to cut it and run when the old woman or the jogger or, worst, the fucking ten year old who had been playing soccer, reared back up and tried to take a bite out of them. Elijah cradled her head, his mind racing. The symptoms presented differently with everyone they’d encountered. One spewed blood, one just bottomed out and died, but so far complete cardiac arrest had occurred within the first twenty minutes of contact. His eyes darted to his watch. It had been fifteen since she’d screamed over the phone and he had raced to come find her.

He pressed a square of gauze against the wound, his breath shaking. “Okay,” he said, “Okay, Lu? I need you to look at me, focus on me, hey-“ He held her face with one hand and snapped his fingers near her ear with the other. It lolled like a doll with loose joints. “We’ve got a couple minutes before… b-before the first real symptoms kick in, the really bad ones. But I’m gonna get you to the hospital, alright?” He added in an aside to his partner in the front, “How long you think until we get there?” 

“Fuck man,” Jonas spat, “Every street is clogged, the military is setting up choke points on every major road. They’re not gonna let us even through if she’s infected.” 

“I didn’t fucking ask about the stupid fucking military, I asked how long until we get there,” Elijah replied in a tone that warned the other man he would not be accepting any other outcome but Luffy making it to the front doors of Saint Edward’s.

“Twenty minutes, if I can find a decent backstreet. Probably forty if I can’t.”

He nearly sobbed. The air left his body in a rush with a stricken noise he couldn’t hold back. Luffy’s hand reached out and grabbed at his shirt. 

“Eli,” she sputtered again, but there were tears in her voice this time. “I don’t … I d-don’t wanna die…”

Twenty minutes. Probably over that, but he couldn’t think about that. His eyes snapped to his watch again. Three minutes left. He could keep her heart going. If she wasn’t really dead then she couldn’t be undead. He would keep her alive, and they would cure her, and she would live. There was no other option. Not for him.

Spittle dried white at the corner of her lips as he stared down into her face, those lips he had kissed until they were swollen now trembling and pale. He smoothed hair back from her forehead and leaned in close. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he promised in a low voice, cupping her head with both hands. “You’re gonna be alright. You trust me?” She nodded, even as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and slid into the pillow beneath her. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We take care of each other, right? It’s what we do.” 

Two minutes. Elijah kissed her sweaty forehead and drew back, collecting everything he’d need for an arrest as the ambulance swayed and bounced over uneven terrain. He snatched out epinephrine, pulled out the AED, strapped her to the gurney, all with an efficiency he didn’t even know he was capable of. Already her heart was beginning to skip, throwing out PVCs on the monitor as her jagged heart rate either spiked above the line or dipped far below it. He eyed the restraints they had on hand, the brace boards for trauma victims and cuffs meant for psych patients. As he drew the LUCAS out, he tested the straps on the sides of the large, crescent moon shaped piece of equipment. There was no telling if they’d hold if she tried to take a swipe at him, but maybe. 

Twenty seconds. Elijah gripped the neckline of Luffy’s shirt and tore it down the middle, sweat beginning to drip down the back of his neck and back. She was hardly moving, her bare chest glistening with sweat. Her nipples had lost their color too, and her breasts swayed jerkily with every short, halting breath she managed in. Her eyes were drooping closed. Her jaw twitched open a little and slackened back as she took one more shallow sip of air. Then it left her lungs in a quiet sigh as her chest deflated for the final time. There was one more quick flutter on the monitors, her heart clawing for the last few quivering beats it could manage. Then it stopped. 

Elijah clamped down on the welling nausea to tap the timer on his digital watch. Jonas cursed up front as the EKG hummed a flatline. Wasting no time, he slid the curved backboard under her limp body, lifting the LUCAS and clicking it into place above her. The thing settled between her breasts, the flexible rubber plunger flush against her sternum. One of her arms hung limp off the side of the gurney and he took it by the wrist, fixing it in the straps on one side of the machine, then the other. Her fingers curled against the motor case. Elijah jabbed at the controls and turned it on. 

The machine jabbed the plunger down into her chest with all the force of a trained EMT. It cratered into her heart, the force displacing through the rest of her body so her belly rolled out, her shoulders rippling with the force of a robot that didn’t care if it felt her ribs pulp under its hands. It had never held her. It had never known the warmth of her. The thing pistoned and made a noise far too loud for the cramped space. Zip, zip, zip, zip, zip.

Luffy’s eyes were half mast and empty, lips parted. Elijah checked the timer. A little over a minute had passed since the start of the arrest. Maybe there was still time for intubation. He snatched the laryngoscope and tilted her head back by the jaw, sliding the metal blade past her bloodless lips and over her tongue. The curved blade made an easy track down her throat, bulging it slightly as he maneuvered an intubation tube down the tunnel of her trachea. He slid it home with one hand, the other resting at the pulse point in her neck to feel the blood being forced to circulate. He knew he couldn’t look at her face. He had to focus on her tongue, her mouth, her teeth, the hard bone of her jaw under his fingers. If he looked at her face, he would lose any shred of sanity he had left. But his eyes slid anyway. They moved down to her eyes- only they weren��t half lidded anymore. 

They bore into him, the pupils grey discs in the center of her dark eyes. The whites of her eyes were shot through with red veins. Her jaw clicked as it moved around the intubation tube, her lips peeling back, exposing her teeth.

“Fuck!” Elijah exclaimed and jerked back, his back hitting the wall of the ambulance. 

“What, what?” Jonas shouted from the front seat.

Luffy’s body moved, her arms tugging at the restraints, her legs shifting underneath her. They curled up and kicked out, but the belts around her waist held her down. Her back arched against the LUCAS even as it slammed down against her sternum. Elijah heard something shift sickeningly under the skin. A guttural growl rose up from the tube and she thrashed, shaking her head, rolling back as her teeth gnashed against the tube poking from her mouth. She gargled and sputtered and he realized with a jolt that she was tearing up her throat with her bucking and shaking. 

“Luffy,” he breathed. “Lu… Lu, stop, stop it-“ He lurched forward, grabbing her jaw, but she snapped her head to the side and clicked her teeth within a hairs breadth of his hand. "Fuck, fuck!"

"Eli! What the hell-"

"Focus on the road!" As he snapped this at Jonas, Luffy burbled a mouthful of blood from around the tube in her throat. He managed to throw his arms in front of his face just in time before it might have splattered in his eyes or mouth. The last thing poor Jonas needed was another flesh crazed cannibal in his ambulance. Elijah had already decided he was saving the woman he loved, and he was going to keep that promise; he just needed to stay warm and breathing to do it.

He lunged for her again, clapping his hands on both sides of her head, just out of reach over her bared teeth. "This is definitely not how you're supposed to intubate someone," he panted, already out of breath, "But I know very well you're not breathing for yourself right now." As if in agreement, Luffy gurgled with a throat full of blood, already darkened by the virus until it was almost black. He wrapped his lips around the opening of the tube and forced a breath into it. Might as well, things definitely couldn't get any worse. His eyes flicked to her chest as the LUCAS did its thing, bowing her ribs in against her spine with ruthless efficacy, and blew another breath into her oxygen starved lungs, even as she fought against it. Six minutes in arrest.

Her arms strained against the bindings and he heard the velcro straps start to go, but she was just mindless and angry enough she didn't seem to understand what was keeping her stuck. She twisted her wrists and struggled until the skin was bruised and raw, but the straps held. They'd hold until they couldn't anymore. He considered a neck brace to try and hold her still enough to attach an ambu bag and actually intube her properly, but if he lessened his hold on her for even a moment, she'd snap and flounder, teeth chomping as they lunged for his flesh. The LUCAS had to be good enough. It was all he had. He stood there, bowed over her, filling her lungs. Each breath forced her chest to rise before it was again crushed under the LUCAS as it beat her heart over and over again. Every time he gave her oxygen, she made a wretched wheezing noise and used the breath as fuel to snarl wordlessly at him. Her legs kicked out, banging against the walls of the truck, scattering supplies tucked into corners. Her body tried to roll up and fight the machine as it relentlessly battered her dead heart.

"Please, stay still, Lu." He stroked his thumb against her cheek, trying to suppress the sobs he felt building behind his eyes. Every time the LUCAS pounded against her sternum, it forced what little air was left in her lungs out, often in a grunt or a a hollow rasp in the back of her poor, abused throat. “I got you, baby. I’m not giving up, not until I get you back.”

She snarled again, but the thumper kept cutting into her displeased noises. “Haaar-huk, graa-ack, huk-“

Ten minutes in arrest. Elijah looped his arm under her chin, pinning her in his bicep to keep her head still, and punched the pause button on the LUCAS. He slipped two fingers under his headlock to feel for her pulse, but the monitor returned to a flatline the moment the automatic compressions stopped. She was still dead even as she squirmed under the restraints.

“Come on, fucks sake, Lu. Give me something,” he muttered, slapping the resume button to once more fill the ambulance with the rhythmic zip, zip, zip noise. Her breasts bounced with the force, her hardened nipples drawing lines back and forth in the air. He breathed once more into the intubation tube. The machine forced the breath back out as soon as he’d given it. She didn’t stop her struggles, trying to fight the thing assaulting her motionless heart. He had to wonder if she felt it pushing stale blood through the chambers and ventricles. He could only imagine how much it must hurt to be conscious during CPR. Her ribcage had probably already been rendered into pudding by now. He could see the bruise where the plunger knocked again and again into her. “I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering.

Thirteen minutes in arrest.

He didn’t know how much more he could take. Seeing Luffy’s face contorted, empty even as it moved and made noise, was starting to break Elijah. Or at the very least break some vital piece of him. He ran his thumbs over her temples as tears silently slipped down the bridge of his nose and patted wetly on her face. She didn’t even flinch. There was nothing left of her in those diseased eyes. He held her still enough in another headlock to check her pupil reactivity, but they were fixed and blown wide with dilation. He didn’t know if that meant the virus was doing its job, or if she was beyond saving. Luffy rattled the gurney as she kicked again, thrashing her body as much as she could while being pinned down by the machine punching into her sternum over and over. Sixteen minutes. Sixteen minutes and absolutely zero electrical activity: her heart hadn’t even quivered. It simply lay silent and still while the rest of her kept moving.

Elijah sank into a crouch, holding onto the edge of her bed to keep himself from collapsing utterly. He heard Jonas radioing into the hospital, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the pitiful gasps and grunts Luffy made as the thumper pinned her beneath it. “Stay still, please God just stay still,” he begged her and felt tears spilling over. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. All he could do was sit there and shake with silent sobs. He couldn’t even focus enough to breathe for her. “Baby,” he rasped in a hoarse whisper, “Please… Jesus Christ, please…. Come back…”

“Eli,” Jonas called again for what had been the third time, but was the first time Elijah had heard him. “They say they’ve got some kind of antidote, they’ve tried it on a few of the infected.”

Elijah wiped tears and snot off in his upper arm. “Any results?” he asked, warbling. The greater part of him wanted to tell Jonas not to bother, that it was too late. That she was gone. The most an antidote would do would maybe put her down peacefully so she could rest easy. But there was that little kernel, that one errant thought that said maybe, maybe she could come back.

“A couple people have come back. Not totally, they think it might be brain damage from the time they spent without circulation. But they stop trying to rip people’s faces off.”

They’d been her life support since the moment she turned. Her heart had barely even been given a chance to stop in her chest. The LUCAS had good rates of spontaneous return of circulation; if anyone could come back, Luffy had been given the best chance.

“They know we’re coming?”

“They’re gonna meet us the second we pull in.”

He stared down into the silver discs of her eyes. She was still in there, somewhere. She had to be. “Hold on, Lu. I’m gonna get you back.”

[kk095]

Xmas in the ER

*Hello there everyone, and merry Christmas to those who celebrate! As promised, here's my latest story. I hope you all enjoy the story as much as I do, and feel free to shoot me a message, comment, or leave me asks if you have any questions! I will also be posting another story sometime on New Year's Eve.*

As the old saying goes, Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. The holiday is a great opportunity to spend time with loved ones, exchange gifts, and make lifelong memories. But for Dr Lindsay, this year’s Christmas was just another Wednesday where she was tasked with holding down the 7pm to 7am overnight shift in our ER. Naturally, Lindsay was bummed out about the idea of having to work on Christmas, but the emergency department is a 24/7 operation! Little did she know, she’d still have a holiday she’d never forget!

That night, the weather was awful. It was dark, freezing cold, and snowing heavily. Visibility was limited, and the roads were covered in a fresh coat of snow and ice. “Jeez… I bet we’ll have a couple of MVCs tonight.” Lindsay thought to herself shortly after she started driving, trying her best to carefully make her way to work through the frozen, wintery landscape. Fortunately for Lindsay, the roads were mostly empty, most people in the area opting to stay indoors. Even though the roads were empty, the conditions were less than ideal, so she felt the best move was to drive slowly.

Despite Lindsay doing everything in her power to arrive safely at the emergency department, fate had other plans for the cute, sporty tomboy doctor! On the highway about 10 minutes or so from her destination, Lindsay’s car slipped on a patch of ice on the road. The car almost immediately lost control, redirecting the doctor’s vehicle towards a cement barrier in the median of the highway. Lindsay’s heart raced as she white-knuckled the steering wheel, frantically attempting to regain control of the errant vehicle. But it all happened so fast! There was only so much Lindsay could do in those few seconds. Lindsay was unable to stop or change the trajectory of her car and slammed head on into the cement median.

CRUNCH! The windshield shattered, glass fragments flying everywhere inside the vehicle acting almost as little bits of shrapnel. Lindsay raised one arm to attempt to cover her face from the glass shards, but a few nicked her face and neck. The steering column was forced inwards, slamming Lindsay in her chest with tremendous force before being blown back a second or so later when the airbag deployed. “AHHH!” Dr Lindsay yelped, feeling something pop inside her chest. Even with the vehicle stopped after the impact, the momentum generated from the accident caused Lindsay to be thrown around a bit. Just like that, the roles were reversed, and now Lindsay found herself in need of assistance in the ER.

Upon arrival at the emergency department, Lindsay was awake, alert, and doing anything and everything she could to fight through the pain. While being wheeled in through the main entryway of the ER, she was laid out on a backboard atop a gurney with a c-collar around her neck. Lindsay was stripped barefoot, down to just her black sports bra and scrub pants. EKG electrodes and wires were stuck onto her torso, while IV lines were set up in each arm. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around her left bicep, and a pulse oximeter was on her left index finger. The ER doc’s body was in relatively good shape, but she had some cuts and scrapes on her face and neck from the glass shards.

While being wheeled in, Dr Lindsay was experiencing a weird déjà vu of sorts. She’s walked through those same entryway doors more times than she could count, but she never saw the emergency department from that angle. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea of being brought in as a patient. Her pretty blue eyes scanned her surroundings, attempting to make sense of the nonsense. “33 year old female, blunt chest trauma, single car MVC. BP 60 over palp, heart rate’s 140 and climbing, pulse ox down to 90. Got IVs going on scene and started fluids, but her vitals aren’t looking too good.” Lindsay heard a female medic rattle off while wheeling the stretcher down the hall towards trauma room one. “Ok, thank you. Let’s get her over to trauma one. I’m gonna start her on the MTP and get a chest x ray.” A familiar voice replied to the medic. “who is that?” Lindsay thought to herself. “Dr Sarah maybe? I know she was supposed to work the day shift today.” Lindsay answered, still thinking to herself.

The gurney was still being wheeled towards the trauma bay. Dr Sarah leaned over, coming into Lindsay’s line of sight and lowered a stethoscope onto her chest. Sarah didn’t look down at Lindsay’s face, so she didn’t immediately realize who her next patient was. “Diminished breath sounds on the left side, we might need a chest tube.” Sarah observed, pulling her stethoscope away after a brief listen. Dr Sarah then looked down at the gurney, her eyes locking with Lindsay’s. Sarah’s eyes could be seen widening behind her glasses, absolutely stunned at what she was looking at. Sarah gasped, unable to get a word out. “Sarah….?” Lindsay whimpered, her voice weak and breathy. “OHMYGOD, Linds?! What happened?” Marveled Dr Sarah, still processing the concept of Dr Lindsay- a friend and coworker, being her next patient. Lindsay’s lip quivered, her eyes started to moisten. “my car… it just slipped… I don’t know what happened…” Lindsay explained to Sarah, her voice wobbly, now on the verge of tears. “It’s ok Linds, it’s gonna be ok! We’re gonna take a good look at you!” Consoled Sarah, gently grabbing Lindsay’s right hand, her voice a bit panicked.

Once in the trauma room, the stretcher was lined up parallel to the table, where Nurses Heather and Nancy waited. “LINDSAY?!” Heather exclaimed the instant she recognized who the patient was. “Hunny?! What happened?!” Nurse Nancy chimed in, equally surprised. Lindsay didn’t answer, but the familiar voices certainly comforted her through the terrifying uncertainty she was experiencing. “Let’s get her on the table on my count! One… Two… THREE!” Sarah barked out. The trio of beautiful ladies picked up the backboard and carefully moved their coworker onto the table while the paramedics took their stretcher back and exited the room. “Ah….” Winced Lindsay, feeling some pain inside her chest while being placed down on the table. Dr Lindsay squinted, the bright, fluorescent overhead light practically blinding her. “BPs 60 over palp and dropping. Hang 4 units of O-neg and prep Lindsay for a chest tube.” Ordered Dr Sarah, her voice urgent. “Linds? I have to put in a left chest tube. You know how bad they hurt, but be strong for me, ok? I promise I’ll be fast.” Dr Sarah kept Lindsay in the loop about her treatment. Lindsay hesitated for a moment, trying to mentally prepare for the pain she was about to endure. But the logical, doctor side of her took over, realizing that the brutal, painful procedure had to be done. Dr Lindsay’s eyes looked up at Sarah, and she nodded. “Go ahead.” Permitted Lindsay, giving Sarah the green light to begin chest tube placement.

Lindsay laid on the table in the supine position, her left arm raised above along her head. The normally calm and collected Dr Lindsay had a nervous expression on her face. The doctor turned patient’s lips were pinched tight, her forehead puckered, her icy blue-grey eyes looking in the direction of her left ribcage where the tube was to be inserted. She watched Dr Sarah insert a needle full of lidocaine to numb the skin. Lindsay felt a quick pinch, but nothing too worrisome. Sarah then sterilized the incision area with an alcohol wipe. “Ok Linds… Here we go…” The cute, nerdy redhead doctor told Lindsay, reaching for a 10 blade scalpel that sat on an equipment tray beside the trauma room table. Sarah took the scalpel and made a 1 inch cut at the intersection of the 4th intercostal space and anterior axillary line. Lindsay could feel the cold, sharp blade’s every move as it effortlessly slashed her skin apart. Lindsay saw stars, her eyes rolling back in pain. After the cut was made, Sarah attached a Kelly clamp to the proximal end of the chest tube, then bluntly inserted it into Lindsay’s chest cavity. “YAHHH!!!!” Yelped Lindsay, her eyes shooting wide open. Dr Sarah continued the procedure, guiding the tube further into Lindsay’s chest cavity into the pleural space. “AHHHH!!!” Lindsay let out a blood curdling scream, in absolute agony, her eyes tearing up, both her hands making tight fists, feeling the plastic tube forcing its way deeper inside her chest. There was a hiss of air once the tube reached the correct location from trapped air vacating Lindsay’s chest cavity. Lindsay gasped loudly and dramatically, then attempted to sit up. “whoawhoawhoa!” Nurse Heather stepped in, gently laying Lindsay back down on the table. “Stay still for us Linds. So far so good hunny.” Nancy chimed in, gently stroking Lindsay’s hair. Sarah lowered her stethoscope onto Lindsay’s chest and had a listen. “Tube’s in.” Sarah nodded.

Although Lindsay’s breathing improved following the chest tube placement, her vital signs continued to drop. Dr Sarah started another round of blood products and upped Lindsay’s meds, but that didn’t seem to be doing the trick. Lindsay began to shiver dramatically. Her long legs trembled and shook, and at the far end of the bed, her toes were scrunched up hard, showing off the white and red candy cane themed nail polish on her toes, along with the thin, wavy, prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of the big, size 12 feet Lindsay was always so self conscious of. “Mmmmm…” Lindsay moaned. Dr Lindsay began taking rapid, shallow breaths, continuing to moan. “Shhh. It’s ok Linds. Hang in there a little longer for me…” Nurse Nancy’s calm, soothing voice told Lindsay. “I…I…” Lindsay babbled. “You what sweetie?” asked Nancy. “I just… I can’t believe I’m gonna die on Christmas…” Replied Lindsay, an impending sense of doom consuming her. The trio of caretakers in the room stood there frozen for a second, taken aback by Lindsay’s response. Nobody could believe that words like that were coming from Lindsay’s mouth. “You’re not dying hunny! We need you here New Year’s Eve! You know how we get slammed every year!” Nancy tried to encourage, her tone of voice upbeat and positive. “New Year’s Eve? Pshhh…” Lindsay scoffed, continuing to shiver. “I’m gonna be toe tagged and under a sheet in a little while…. Forget New year’s…” continued Lindsay. “No hunny, don’t say that! We’re gonna fix you up!” Nancy reassured, her voice getting a bit wobbly, upset by how Lindsay was talking about her own fate.

Before Lindsay could even answer, she started gasping loudly, taking deep, dramatic gasps. The heart monitors began beeping louder and faster, playing an almost ominous tone. “She’s crashing…” Heather announced. “linds? Stay with us hunny!” Nurse Nancy said to Lindsay, holding her right hand for a second. Again, Lindsay didn’t answer. Her frantic hyperventilating continued, her eyes WIDE open. “We need to intubate. 8.0 ET and a laryngoscope!.” Ordered Sarah, her voice roaring through the room. “Lindsay? I’m gonna intubate you, ok?” Sarah told Lindsay, moving to the head of the bed. Dr Lindsay looked up at Dr Sarah, their eyes locking for a moment. Lindsay looked like she was trying to mouth something, but couldn’t get the words out. “What’s up Linds?” asked Sarah. Lindsay didn’t answer. Her eyes shifted away from Sarah’s. Lindsay’s eyes remained wide open, but became locked at the ceiling. It was like a switch was flipped. Lindsay’s shivering and gasping came to an abrupt stop. The monitors began to alarm at that point. “V-fib! Starting compressions!!!” Nurse Heather shouted out. Heather immediately began chest compressions, pushing down on Lindsay’s chest hard and fast. Nancy swooped in, snipping off Lindsay’s sports bra, exposing her small breasts and hard nipples. At the head of the bed, Sarah got right to it, beginning rapid sequence intubation. The nerdy redheaded doctor carefully navigated the flexible plastic tube into her friend’s airway. Lindsay’s head bobbed and lolled around from the residual force of Heather’s hearty compressions, creating a moving target for Sarah- nothing that Sarah couldn’t handle! The breathing tube was navigated further into Lindsay’s airway, ending up in the correct depth and location in a matter of seconds. “I’m in!” Sarah confidently announced, taping the tube in place.

Post-intubation, the trauma team decided to shock Lindsay. The defibrillator paddles were charged to 200 joules, gelled, and pressed up against Lindsay’s bare, flat chest. “Alright! Everyone…CLEAR!” Sarah shouted, sending the first shock into the patient once everyone backed away. “MMMPH!” Lindsay moaned, as if she felt the shock. The first defibrillation didn’t do the trick, onto the second one! The defibs were recharged to 250 joules, and shock #2 was promptly delivered. “Mmm….” Moaned Lindsay, again, almost as if she knew what was being done to her. Shocks one and two didn’t do the trick, but third time’s the charm, right? The paddles were charged up to 300, and Lindsay was shocked. Her chest shot up and her back arched. She held that position for a second or two before plopping down onto the orange backboard. “Damn it, no change! Shocking again at 360. Everyone… CLEAR!” Barked Dr Sarah. KA-THUNK! Lindsay’s 6’1 frame was tossed around effortlessly by the stronger shock, but like before, v-fib persisted. With the paddles still pressed up against Lindsay’s bare chest, Sarah shocked Dr Lindsay again at 360 joules. At the far end of the table, Lindsay’s feet kicked up, slamming back down hard half a second later, wrinkling the soles of her big feet once again.

Following the fifth shock, the trauma team switched gears, giving CPR and ambu bagging another try. Heather placed the heel of her gloved hand on the middle of Lindsay’s chest and began pumping away hard and fast. Lindsay’s chest caved in, and her toned belly with abs rippled and jiggled out from the sheer force of the chest compressions. Heather felt Lindsay’s ribs break, but nonetheless, she kept up her life saving efforts. At the head of the bed, Nurse Nancy attached the ambu bag to the ET tube, puffing the light blue bag every few seconds or so, sending critically needed oxygen directly into the coding doctor’s lungs. Dr Sarah stood off to the side of the table injecting the first doses of epinephrine and atropine into Lindsay’s IV line in hopes of stimulating positive cardiac activity. While waiting for the meds to kick in, Heather kept at it, brutally going to town on her coworker (now patient’s) chest. Heather looked down at Lindsay’s face while continuing CPR. Lindsay’s head bobbed and bounced around in sync with each individual compression. Her eyes were WIDE open, her face locked in a full-blown death stare. The ET tube hung out the side of Lindsay’s mouth, taped in place, hugging her pale lips. Heather couldn’t believe a familiar face was in such dire shape. “The ones with their eyes open never make it…” Heather thought to herself. Back at the head of the table, Nancy continued ambu bagging. “You’ve got a long life ahead of you… We all love you and need you here Linds…” Nancy whispered into Lindsay’s ear, as if she was trying to convince Lindsay to not die.

Over the coming minutes, Lindsay’s chest began to take an absolute beating. A nasty bruise started to form in the center of her chest on top of the breastbone. Mid code, Lindsay’s chest tube began to drain a substantial amount of blood seemingly out of nowhere. “What the hell?...” A surprised Dr Sarah thought out loud. In the blink of an eye, a couple liters of blood drained through the tube. “She’s bleeding somewhere in her chest. Maybe a cardiac chamber or great vessel injury.” Speculated Sarah, trying to explain away what she was seeing. “I’m gonna do an echo. Let’s see what her heart’s doing. Maybe that’ll give me something to work with.” Sarah went on. With CPR ongoing, Sarah squirted a little bit of clear, conductive ultrasound gel onto Lindsay’s bare chest. She turned on the ultrasound monitor screen and lowered the wand onto the portion of Lindsay’s chest where the gel was and began moving it around for a second or two to spread it out a bit. Sarah then moved the ultrasound wand over Lindsay’s heart and eyes the monitor screen. “….oh Lord…what a mess in there…” Uttered Sarah. “Hmm?” Heather overheard. “Massive tamponade.” Sarah shook her head. “Pericardiocentesis?” asked Heather, wondering what the next step was. “I don’t think that’ll do the trick. We need to crack her chest and see what’s really going on in there. I’m gonna set up a thoracotomy tray.” Sarah explained to Nurse Heather. Nurse Heather’s eyes went wide once she heard the word “thoracotomy.” That was a last ditch effort, hail Mary procedure used in the most critical patients. Heather has seen many patients get their chest cracked during her time as a nurse in our ER, but the idea of a friend, coworker, and familiar face being the recipient of such a procedure really bothered Heather at a deeper level.

Betadine was splashed across the left half of Lindsay’s chest. The strong, chemical scent of antiseptic hit everyone’s nostrils in less than a second. Sarah picked up the scalpel, making a crude, but decisive incision. The cut started just to the left of Lindsay’s sternum, extended laterally across her chest, underneath her left nipple, and concluding just shy of her left armpit. Heather halted CPR while Sarah worked to separate the underlying tissue and muscle to make way for the rib spreader. With an adequate space created, the metal rib retractor was placed, and Lindsay’s chest was forcefully pried open. A loud popping and cracking sound echoed around the room while Sarah turned the knobs on the spreader. Upon entry to Lindsay’s chest cavity, there was a massive rush of blood. “Suction! SUCTION!” Shouted Sarah, packing handfuls of surgical sponges into the fresh incision area. Heather lowered a suction tube into Lindsay’s chest cavity and began removing the excess blood to create a good line of sight for Sarah. The suction tube made a wet slurping sound as it removed the blood. Meanwhile, Sarah incised the fibrous lining of the pericardium to relieve the tamponade and placed a vascular clamp on the descending aorta in order to redirect blood flow and quell any arterial bleeding- at least temporarily. Heather continued to apply suction every few seconds or so, the line of sight clogging up with blood like clockwork. “Starting cardiac massage.” Announced Sarah, reaching into Lindsay’s chest, beginning to vigorously massage away at Lindsay’s strong, athletic heart. Sarah’s gloved hands were wrapped firmly around the beautiful tomboy doctor’s heart, squeezing much needed blood to the rest of her body. A wet, rhythmic squishing sound was produced from Dr Sarah’s internal resus efforts. “Come on… come on Linds…” uttered Sarah under her breath.

Sarah squeezed and squeezed, but her multiple cycles of cardiac massage failed to restart Dr Lindsay’s heart. Next up, the team opted to give the internal paddles a try. The internal paddles were charged to 20 joules and lowered into Lindsay’s chest around her erratically twitching heart. THWACK! Lindsay’s heart tensed up for a second before going right back to v-fib. Sarah sighed. “No change, going again at 30. Everyone… CLEAR!” Sarah shocked again. Lindsay’s torso jolted sharply in response to the shock, but v-fib remained. “Hitting her again at 40!..... CLEAR!” Sarah’s voice surged. “Mmm….” Lindsay moaned in reaction to the shock. “she’s still in v-fib, let’s go again…. CLEAR!” Sarah yelled out passionately. A dull, wet thump was heard, however, Lindsay’s heart still couldn’t be shocked out of v-fib. “AGAIN!... CLEAR!” Yelled Sarah, lowering the blood soaked internal paddles back onto Lindsay’s cracked open chest. “Still nothing. Recharging the internal paddles to 40!” Sarah announced, her tone of voice growing more and panicked. The high pitched, electrical whirring sound of the paddles recharging bounced around the room. “Ok…. CLEAR!” Sarah defibbed Lindsay again. Almost instantly after the shock, the heart monitors flatlined. Lindsay’s heart sat completely motionless in plain sight. Dr Sarah removed the large, spoon shaped paddles and gently set them back on the crash cart. Sarah began removing her gloves and eyeing the clock on the wall. “It’s over. Time of death, 19:35.” Sarah called out, abruptly terminating the code.

The trio of caretakers stood there shell shocked for a moment while the high pitched hum of the flatlined monitors droned around the room. Nancy removed the ambu bag, a small amount of air quietly hissing out. Heather switched off the monitors, making the once loud, chaotic room eerily silent. Nobody said a word, but knew exactly what to do next. The IV lines were taken out of each arm. The EKG electrodes were disconnected. The BP cuff was taken off Lindsay’s left bicep. The pulse oximeter was taken off her left index finger. A blue surgical drape was hastily tossed on top of the thoracotomy site. Lindsay’s eyes remained wide open as her body was covered, appearing as if she watched the sheet get pulled over her head. Last but not least, a toe tag was filled out and placed on the big toe of Lindsay’s left foot. The tag dangled in front of Lindsay’s hot, wrinkly soles, serving as a harsh reminder that no Christmas miracles would be taking place that night. In this alternate reality, Lindsay was now the latest beauty who found herself toe tagged and under a sheet in our emergency department.

[waywardserpent176389053]

Natsuki's Doki Doki Panic Chapter Two

Here is the second chapter, this time with editing provided by the talented @nursepunkdreams.

Circling Darkness

At first, Natsuki could only feel the throbbing of her heart. It was hummingbird fast, uncountable, and as tentative as the slight beat of their wings.

And it hurt. God, did it hurt. As though someone had sunk several needles into her chest and her heart was being forced to contract around them.

But that wasn’t quite right. Her other senses trickled in one after another. More pain. The soft hiss of compressed air; something strapped to her face, and a scattering of smaller somethings attached to her chest. A shrill, rapid beeping…

She winced. She was in motion, for sure—whoever was driving had hit some rough road. She tensed and tried to focus on something else.

Natsuki finally opened her eyes. She recognized the interior of an ambulance right away and tried to take it all in. An intravenous line snaked into her arm, and a dozen EKG electrodes covered her naked chest. A green mask fitted around her face fogged with her every breath.

Her vision wouldn’t quite focus, no matter how much she willed it to, and her thoughts didn’t fare much better. The whats, the whys, the hows of everything—it all escaped her.

“Hey there.” The paramedic noticed her wandering eyes. He gently touched the side of her face to center her gaze on him. “You just rest, okay? You’ve been through a lot. We’ve got you.”

She wanted to demand some answers, but was distracted by someone touching her shoulder. It looked like…

“It’s okay. I’m here too,” Monika reassured her in a soft tone. She watched worriedly as the other paramedic inched his stethoscope around her chest. “You fainted in the club room… so we’re just going to the hospital for a checkup. That’s all.” She placed her hand in Natsuki’s.

The paramedic let out a short sigh when he finished his examination and replaced the instrument around his neck.

“Still tachy. ETA?” He called out to the front.

“A minute, if that.”

Natsuki allowed herself to take some relief in that. The hospital would fix everything, right?

“Ah—” Her breath caught with a particularly painful spasm of her heart. The patient monitor sounded off with a new alarm as the spasms continued, and her hopes began to wane.

“She’s throwing some strong PVCs,” the paramedic said. He looked concerned scanning the monitor’s readout. “Hanging out around 180—pulse ox is dropping…”

Natsuki didn’t understand what the words meant. She looked to Monika for context and found her looking down at her, tense with worry—even more so than before.

That couldn’t be good.

“We’re here,” Monika gently relayed the information to her with a hand on her face. “I’ll be close by, okay…?”

She barely registered what she had said. There was a bit of jostling, some fussing by some unseen hands and the voices attached to them; the panel lights flashing overhead… but all she could focus on was her heart, beating out of control. It skipped and stuttered along in double-time, threatening to give out…

Then she came to a stop. She thought she glimpsed a sign that said ‘Cardiac Care Unit’, but she didn’t have time to think about it further. Suddenly her body was aloft, and then manhandled into position on a new bed. On every side, people were a blur of activity and an indiscernible torrent of medical jargon she couldn't hope to understand.

“Hi there Natsuki, are you with us?” One of her attendants spoke loudly and clearly, but still with a reassuring lilt. She waved her hand in front of her face. “There you are. You’re at the hospital, okay? Your heartbeat is very irregular, and we need to give it a little jolt to get it back to normal…”

She continued talking, explaining, but the words faded. On her opposite side, another medic was readying a defibrillator. She’d seen them, in movies, of course—but never in real life. The heavy capacitors were placed on her chest: one under her collarbone and the other under her breast. The team stepped back, and the man holding the paddles shot her a sympathetic look.

The shock was sharp and sudden, so much so that she hardly grasped that it had happened at all. She gasped, the trace read flat, and she became hyper aware of her heart. For a second, she was able to trace every part of her rebellious cardiac organ. Every blood vessel, valve, nerve, all of it; as though she could view it in a three-dimension space…

Then the muscle contracted. Once more, blood rushed to the rest of her body. She started to hyperventilate. The sensation—the awareness—was overwhelming. The monitor continued to broadcast a rhythm that was far too rapid.

“No change—still v-tach…”

She braced for the worst. The twin capacitors settled onto her chest once more.

The second shock struck her. The muscles of her back tightened and thrust her body against the defibrillator paddles, as if trying to buck them off. Her heart clenched like a fist, the electricity forcing a contraction. She slumped back onto the bed and her heart relaxed, still for a moment, then one beat… another…

No third beat. Natsuki’s heart, tired from all it had been through, merely twitched and spasmed.

She felt like she was sinking. The action around her grew more frantic—one medic rushed forward to compress her chest, another grabbed a bag-valve mask as her breath fled her lungs in a drawn out wheeze.

Her vision frayed into darkness at its edges. She feared the worst, but…

She could still see.

A medic frantically worked her chest, caving her ribs with every shove. Another tore off her mask and replaced it with the bag valve. She squeezed the bulb fast and steady, raising her chest with each repetition. It brought an ache in her ribs to her attention, and she found herself with the wherewithal to wonder if it was broken. Having barely finished her thought, she also noticed the pain of her ordeal was rapidly subsiding.

This is so embarrassing… Natsuki thought when her head was a little clearer. She hadn’t bared her chest for anyone in recent memory, but now a whole half dozen—or more—got to behold her pathetic body. She could feel her small breasts jiggling with each thrust, and going by what parts of her body felt clothed… she was only wearing her pink panties and white socks.

Natsuki thought she might expire fully right then and there.

She was reminded of the gravity of her situation then. She was fucking dying.

No… no! Not like this! She couldn’t reconcile with it. Her life had been utterly terrible for so long—it was only just getting good. She had a nice place to live! A crush on a cute girl! And she most certainly did not deserve to die from a sudden heart attack. She still needed to graduate, start a bakery… have sex at least once—not put into a casket at the ripe old age of fucking eighteen.

The compressions stopped, and the defibrillator was placed against her once more.

Please work, Natsuki begged. The current rippled through her and arched her back. Her jaw clenched, and for a second, all she saw was light. It rapidly gave way to darkness.

The void lingered just long enough to make her think this might be it. But she realized—she could still think, and then, she heard the noises around her. They were muffled, as though coming from the next room over, but enough for her to cling to for dear life. There was an alarm—shrill, persistent; a backdrop against the desperate voices of the team working her code.

She became aware of the compressions resuming next—suddenly acutely aware of her ribs being forced down; of her sternum pushing into her heart. The weight moved the arrested muscle down, stopped only by her spine; her ribs growing more pliable and fragile by the second. Beneath her chest wall, the organ was squeezed like a rubber ball; the valves within forced open as the blood was ejected. She could feel it—the blood pushed through the hungry arteries… and could discern, somehow, that it wasn’t nearly as effective as her heart beating normally. Between each thrust, her heart would swell as the blood rushed back.

All of this, in less than a second. But time dilated beyond all meaning now. The artificial rhythm continued at pace, and Natsuki felt the cadence with exacting clarity. Her heart continued to twitch. It reminded her of a plate of gelatin being shaken.

It occurred to her then—she hadn’t really considered her cardiac health all that much. Sure, she’d been a bit worried about it recently, but she didn’t think about it as a distinct part of her. She supposed she’d abstracted it somewhat—it having took on the appearance of a classic cartoon heart in her mind's eye, rather than the complicated mass of muscle it actually was.

Natsuki tried to give herself a shake. The present moment was far more pressing than this weird little detour her mind had taken… she needed that heart to beat again.

The compressions let up and air flooded her lungs. She relished the feeling. Breathing was good…

More of that, please…

She was met with more compressions. It would have been a relaxing cycle, if not for the mortal terror of it all.

Attempting to shift her mind elsewhere, she thought of her heart again. She could feel it so clearly, after all… perhaps she could figure out what the hell was wrong with it. She imagined turning it over in her hands, looking for anything amiss.

Her mouth being forced open broke her train of thought.

Oh… that’s kind of unpleasant… she thought dreamily as the endotracheal tube was guided down her throat. She wanted to gag, but didn’t, and when air came again at last, it inflated her lungs even more than before.

Alright, tube… I forgive you, Natsuki thought, still dazed. She allowed herself to luxuriate in the newfound oxygen and expected the cycle to resume, but it didn’t—instead of the hands ramming her heart, she felt two familiar weights against her chest.

Natsuki steeled herself as best she could.

Please, shocky things… please work—

The defibrillation forced her eyes open for a moment. Her heart, as with every shock before, locked up and ceased its twitching. She could see her chest arching against the paddles; the large, ugly bruise that had settled between her breasts; the breathing tube taped in place at her lips, and the many medics desperately trying to save her.

Maybe she was imagining things, but… she thought they didn’t look particularly hopeful. Her organ had stilled. There was an agonal contraction after a long pause, and then it started quivering again.

Natsuki groaned. The shock had hurt like hell. And not only that, but it had failed to revive her. At the very least… the pain was evidence she was still alive. It had to be. She tried to recenter herself, but—

They must have increased the voltage. The electricity snaked through her muscles, pulling each one taut as the current leaped from one paddle to the other. Her spine bowed and her heart seized with the current. She could trace the individual nerves of the organ as they fired all at once, the muscles at their end squeezing with as much strength as they could spare. Then—as before—it relaxed and returned to spasming.

Natsuki was getting a little frustrated now. Weren’t they supposed to call out ‘clear’ or something? A little more warning would be nice…

The compressions returned, and she began to riddle over her fibrillating organ once more. There must be an issue with her nerves—they were still sending out signals, but not the right ones. That must be why her heart was shaking instead of contracting. She traced her own cardiac nerves, trying to find which ones weren’t working, not sure what she would do if she found the right one…

The paddles were placed around her heart again.

Okay… gotta focus, she thought, with newfound determination. When the shock comes, I gotta force that nerve to—

The defibrillation rocked her body. Her heart contracted; its electrical signals scrambled. Natsuki traced the current…

There!

At the top of her heart, there was an entire cluster of nerves firing all at once from the external current. One of those nerves stood out to her, and even though she couldn’t tell how… she knew that was the one.

The charge dissipated, and her heart fell still. It stayed still.

The sinking feeling from earlier came back tenfold and Natsuki fought hard to keep her head above water. She was suddenly so cold, and the sounds from outside grew ever indistinct. She could only just barely make out the team’s voices…

“Asystole…!” One attendant shouted.

“Losing her!” She heard another cry.

The sensation of the chest compressions returned to her, but numb and distant.

Her life flashed before her eyes. Memories from the early days, when her mom was still around… those fleeting peaceful moment between the shouting matches and slamming doors. She hadn’t taken Natsuki with her, when she left—and she’d always blamed herself for that.

She was a pitiful child, after all. There were the years where she barely had any friends—thin and destitute, scrounging around for whatever food that man left for her—never enough to fill her. She was reminded of learning to bake, so she wouldn’t starve over summer break, and the comics she gorged herself on to give her any sense of hope.

More recent images flashed before her. Like joining the Literature Club and meeting all of her new friends.

That man being arrested, freeing her at last.

Planning for college. Baking new things—not for survival, but for fun.

All of it so recent. And so, so short.

Natsuki suddenly saw that all she would amount to would be a girl who never got the chance to really live—who got only the smallest taste of a good life before it was cruelly snatched away.

The darkness boiled around her; the cold threatening to consume her.

No!

She was not going to die!

Natsuki desperately thrashed against the death that surrounded her. She could still feel her body—the chest compressions, the air pumped to her lungs; the faint sounds of the efforts to revive her. She pushed upward, as if swimming towards the surface of an endless lake.

Natsuki had spent years reading manga. She tended toward slice of life and comedy—stories of girls just hanging out and having a good time, but she had read a bit of everything. Horror, romance, erotica, dramas, sometimes even action/adventure, if she was feeling a bit bored of her usual fare.

She envisioned herself as the protagonists of one of these adventures. Downtrodden, bloody—but standing up and defying the odds nonetheless. The second wind was coming.

She was going to survive this.

In her mind’s eye, she wrestled with her heart; begged it function. She pleaded and coaxed, and then, she was overwhelmed by an awful, acidic burning sensation in her veins. It moved closer to her heart with each press on her sternum, and she felt sick about it, but she knew it was likely the doctors still trying to save her and tolerated it as best she could.

The drugs soon arrived at her cardiac center. Nerves, once quiet, began to fire again. Slowly at first, then swiftly gaining speed—before long, the muscles attached returned to their unconditioned shaking.

Yes! Natsuki reveled in her triumph, even though it was largely the drugs that had done the heavy lifting.

Come on! Hit me again, shocky things!

As though the team could hear her, the weights of the paddles were promptly settled onto her chest again. Natsuki readied herself, but her timing was off. The fibrillation continued, and she prepared for the next jolt.

Three, two, one…

Another current rolled through her and she rode along it, pouring every ounce of her will into forcing her heart to beat once more. The cardiac muscles tightened, then relaxed, then remained still.

The darkness swirled around her. Natsuki clung to the light.

That was supposed to work, damn it!

Time was dilating again, and the creeping coldness settling in was fogging her mind. The distance between the compressions and voices stretched on further and further, as though she were adrift at sea, being pulled further and further away by the unforgiving yet undeniably gentle tide…

She felt more acidic drugs pouring into her veins and thought—for a scant moment—that her heart would react and start spasming again. But the organ did not respond. The voices of the medics cut in and out, hazy; painfully indistinct. Despite her senses failing, she still picked up the droning cry of the monitor, a flatline certainly running across it. In her altered state, it signaled to her that there was some great, terrible predator stalking around her, waiting to take her into dissolution.

My name… she thought desperately. It’s… my name is Natsuki. I like good manga, cute things… and baking! She tightened her focus. And… I love my friends, Monika, Sayori, and Yuri. God, Yuri… if I live for anyone, it’ll be for you!

She held onto this thought loop for dear life. A shield against the tide, against the cold, against the predator stalking near… if she could just hold onto herself… her friends…

Something changed. It was hard for her to focus on other things, but this was different. The compressions had stopped, but her heart wasn’t twitching. The asystole alarm continued, although distorted, as if she was hearing it underwater.

Oh… they gave up… she thought, despondent.

After all that, despite everything, her time was up.

The immense void moved in.

Yuri…!

She was numb, completely and utterly, but… there was no doubting it. She was being cut open. She struggled to remember why that might be happening.

Was she… dead? Was this a morgue; an autopsy? Something cold forced her ribs apart, snapping them like twigs.

That hurt. That hurt!

She remembered the names of her beloved friends and focused on the pain.

If I can still feel pain… then I must be… still alive…

Something new invaded her chest. They wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Hands, maybe. Blood shot through her arteries.

Natsuki rallied.

They haven’t given up! They’re still trying!

Her mind was scattered, but she tried to focus. She centered her attention on her stubborn heart.

Come on… work! Do something!

More drugs. It all felt so terrible, but she grit her teeth and didn’t dare break her focus.

A flutter. Then another, then her whole heart was thick with fibrillation once more. She could feel it so clearly; it was injured, weakened from its ordeal. The repeated shocks, the drugs, the lack of oxygen… and something deeper.

Some small thing that had always been there.

Natsuki lacked the vocabulary for it, but she knew, more than anything, it was the root cause. It wasn’t her nerves misfiring for seemingly no reason—it was this. This little thing she didn’t have a name for.

This flaw.

Small metal discs were placed against her heart.

Mini shocky things… she thought hazily. She knew she didn’t have much fight left. The creature stalked, just outside her perception, she knew—waiting for her to slip up.

Wait for the right—

Her heart was the sun as the charge smashed into it. Even though the capacitors were smaller, it was many, many times more intense.

Natsuki shook it off and readied herself. Her heart continued to shake meaninglessly.

Heh… rule of threes, she thought wryly. It’s now or never…!

The third hit. As her nerves sparked and fired; as the cardiac muscles clinched; as blood sloshed forward from the artificial beat—Natsuki took hold of one thought and bent all her will towards its success. She screamed it, howled it, bellowed it:

BEAT!!!

The heart relaxed as the charge dissipated. It was still.

Then, a nerve fired. Others followed. The muscle contracted—dared to contract.

And again. Then it stumbled, but caught itself.

Ba-dup… ba-dup… ba-dup…

If she could, Natsuki would have collapsed out of sheer relief.

She’d lived. She’d fucking lived.

She knew that her heart was still in poor shape; that she wasn’t out of the woods just yet. But that didn’t matter.

For now, she was alive. The rest could come later.

A new darkness rose around her, a friendlier one—a blanket of simple unconsciousness. She took the offer; she was exhausted in her bones. Her friends' faces rushed past her; she’d kept them. Held on so tight. Let them guide her back to the world of the living.

“I’ll see you soon, okay…?” she murmured, too quiet and indistinct for anyone to hear.

Her heart continued to beat. It was battered… and Natsuki knew, deep down, than it wouldn’t last much longer in the grand scheme of things. But for now, it would fulfill its function. Softly, as if exhausted itself, it beat.

And Natsuki lived.

[kme-2020]

11 (Holly’s Perspective, Rescuer #2)

(Third of three parts, each with a different perspective in the same story)

I noticed Lauren suddenly became very still. Perplexed, I kept an eye on her, but soon a pained look crossed her face and she closed her eyes, inhaling sharply. “Lauren?” Ava asked. I shot a look to Ava and we both frowned, confused at Lauren’s sudden change in demeanour. Lauren gripped the edge of the table and opened her eyes. “Lauren, are you okay?” I asked, leaning over to examine her closer. Lauren remained still and appeared to gag, a wheeze escaping her. Her mouth opened wide but no sound came out. Something’s wrong I thought as I felt my body tensing up, when a realization dawned on me.

“Is she choking?!” I asked, just as Ava got to her feet and hurried to Lauren’s side, calling out to her. “Lauren, can you breathe? Lauren? Hey, talk me to me…”. But Lauren remained seated and didn’t respond, her face growing red, her eyes still closed. “Lauren!” Ava cried out as she slammed her open palm against Lauren’s back. Lauren rocked forward and her eyes flew open, meeting my gaze. I could see panic in her face as Ava pounded her back, unable to dislodge the food from her airway.

Fear kept me frozen in place, and I watched as Ava bent down to Lauren’s height and wrapped her arms around Lauren’s athletic frame. Ava fumbled a bit, struggling to find the right position for the Heimlich Maneuver through Lauren’s thick knitted sweater. Ava pulled the sweater’s hem up, exposing Lauren’s toned stomach. Ava’s fingers scrambled to find the spot just above Lauren’s belly button. Ava made a fist and grasped it with her other hand. She thrust aggressively up and into Lauren’s diaphragm, trying to force her lungs to cough. Lauren jolted with each thrust, a pained look on her face now. Lauren gripped the table and shook her head, indicating she was still choking. Ava thrust again and again, Lauren’s body lurching in her seat with each thrust. I watched as Lauren attempted to cough and gag, clutching at her throat and pounding her chest in desperation.

I shook my head and focused, I need to help, it’s not working I thought as I rushed to Lauren and Ava’s side. “Get her on her feet” I suggested. Ava nodded, “stand up!” she demanded Lauren as she dragged her to her feet. I moved the chair out of the way as Ava restarted back blows. I grabbed Lauren’s shoulders and steadied her as Ava again violently stuck her between her shoulder blades. Lauren’s face and chest were flushed, and the panic was evident in her eyes.

Ava switched back to abdominal thrusts, Lauren’s body doubling over from the force. I could tell the abdominal thrusts were more powerful with Lauren standing up. “Come on, Lauren, cough!” I called to her, meeting her frightened eyes, “Cough!” I yelled, noticing her face growing even redder than before and her eyes were watering.

Ava paused to quickly reposition her hands before sending another violent barrage of thrusts into Lauren’s abdomen. I watched as her toned belly was assaulted and beaten by Ava’s hands performing the Heimlich Maneuver. A retching noise suddenly escaped from Lauren’s throat and a soggy mass slid from Lauren’s mouth. “It’s out!” I announced, smiling with relief. I crouched and examined the blockage on the floor and laugh, “it was a grape” I said.

“Lauren? Lauren are you okay?”, Ava’s voice calls out. There’s no response. I frowned and looked back up. Ava’s arms remained around Lauren’s waist, and Lauren’s shaky hands were gripping Ava’s hands, still in position for the Heimlich. Lauren’s eyes were unfocused and she appeared to still be struggling to breathe. Ava looked to me, equally concerned. “Lauren? Hey Lauren! Can you hear us?” I asked, peering closer at Lauren, grasping her face in my hands. Lauren’s body slips in Ava’s arms. Shit, she’s not okay! I think. “She’s passing out, get her to the ground!” I say.

We work together and lay Lauren’s disheveled figure on her back, kneeling on either side of her. Her sweater is bunched up and exposing the top of her leggings and abdomen. Startled by Lauren’s stillness I grab her shoulders and shake them. “Lauren! Lauren, can you hear me?” Lauren doesn’t respond but her mouth gasps open, a wheeze escapes her lips. I tilt her head back and open her airway, leaning in to listen. I glance at her chest and see her breasts rising and falling in shallow, irregular breaths.

“Her respirations are really shallow, she’s barely breathing…” I said, concentrating as I press my fingers into the side of Lauren’s neck, searching for a pulse which I feel beating rapidly. I pulled Lauren’s sweater up and laid my ear against her chest, listening. “Her hearts beating quick but she struggling to move air properly…” I said to Ava. I need to breathe for her I think as I straighten up and return to Lauren’s face.

I placed my hand under Lauren’s chin and tipped her head back again and pinched her nose shut. I opened her mouth wide and glanced in quickly- no remaining blockage- and inhaled deeply before sealing my lips over hers. I exhaled my breathe into her lungs until I felt resistance. I turned my head to watch as Lauren’s chest deflated and a whoosh of my breathe was exhaled against my cheek.

I continued rescue breathing, Lauren’s breasts rising and falling under her bunched up sweater. I watched as Ava reached for Lauren’s wrist and monitored her pulse. “Stay with us Lauren!” she begged, a tear trickling down her cheek.

I pause my mouth-to-mouth respirations momentarily and we both stared at Lauren whose mouth remained open and a grunt emanated from her throat. “Breathe Lauren, come on…” I encouraged her, vigorously rubbing my fist against her sternum. Another grunt escapes Lauren’s mouth. “Is she coming around?” Ava asked. I shook my head. “Not yet” I sighed as I resumed resuscitation efforts. I pressed my lips over Lauren’s mouth and delivered another breath, my face flushing from the effort of breathing for two. I continued rythym for another five breaths when Lauren let out a low groan.

I paused again and I watched Lauren’s chest rise without my breath assisting her. She’s breathing!! I realize and I tap Lauren’s cheek, hoping to rouse her. I placed a hand firmly against Lauren’s chest and leaned in, feeling the rise and fall of her chest and gentle exhales against my cheek. “She’s breathing!” I exclaimed, as Lauren groggily tried to open her eyes.

I sit up as Ava leans in and calls out, “Lauren, can you hear me?”. Lauren struggles to focus on our faces but weakly nods her head. Relief rushed through me for a second time, and I press my fingers into Lauren’s neck again. Her pulse is strong and steady. “I’m going to put you in the recovery position” I said, gesturing to Ava for assistance. Ava pulls Lauren’s sweater back down to cover her stomach and I brush her blond hair out of her face. We gently rolled Lauren onto her side and I leaned in close to Lauren, checking her breathing. Her chest rises and falls regularly. I placed a comforting hand on Lauren’s shoulder and kneel in front of her. Lauren’s tired and confused eyes meet mine. “Focus on breathing” I said in a gentle voice, rubbing her back soothingly. Lauren didn’t reply but she gave a small nod. “You’re okay now, you’re going to be fine” I said, “we’ve got you”.

[beatingheart-writingwoes]

Magic Missile

Oh my God the writing blog is writing again. Rejoice! Another shortie but hey, it's still writing. Little victories.

Summary: Joanna has been trying to learn magic with the help of her companion, Zayn. A simple training session goes wrong and she could lose her dearest friend.

Warnings: Commotio Cordis, fantasy setting, precordial thumps

“It's a simple training thing, it'll be fine," the man insisted.

Simple training sessions rarely went as planned. Joanna's magic hadn't quite matured yet, and when she cast one spell too many, the spell went wild and burst out like a bullet. Zayn took the hit to the chest hard, much harder than the young woman was expecting. He stumbled back, wincing.

“I'm so sorry!” She yelped.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. His hand came up to his chest just before he crumpled to the ground.Joanna was frozen, rooted to the spot, for a few seconds as her mind processed what she just saw. When her mind finally realized she needed to do sonething, she shrieked and ran to his side. “ZAYN!”

She dropped to her knees and pushed him onto his back. His tan skin was more pale than it was just moments before. His dark curls pooled under his head, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Joanna pulled her firey red hair to one shoulder to keep it out of the way as she leaned down, her cheek over his face.

Zayn wasn't breathing. Zayn wasn't breathing. Joanna pressed an ear to his chest and was greeted by silence. His heart wasn't beating.

“No… no!” she whimpered, sitting up. She cupped the man's face for a brief moment before gingerly tipping it back and pinching his nose closed. She pressed her mouth to his and blew. His stubble tickled. His chest rose with the artificial breath and fell when she pulled away.

“Come on, Zayn, breathe!”Joanna breathed into him again before straightening. She stacked her hands over the center of the man’s chest. Squaring her shoulders over her hands and keeping her arms straight, she rocked her weight forward and pressed down hard, let up, and pressed again over and over in a steady rhythm. His ribs flexed, sternum forced down towards the ground and squeezing the heart underneath. In opposition, his stomach bounced and his shoulders shrugged inwards, limbs twitching and head lolling to one side.

After reaching thirty, she stopped and leaned down to breathe into his mouth twice again. He was far too slack and starting to grow cold. She pulled away, cupping his face once more before pressing a kiss to his forehead. She then returned to pumping the man's chest.

“Zayn, wake up!” Joanna cried as she threw her weight down over and over. She was already winded from the training, and CPR was much more physically taxing than she expected. The man under her didn't respond, the only movement from him being caused by her ministrations.

Her mind wandered to the night where they both fell asleep while studying the spell books he scrounged up. She ended up curling up against Zayn’s side with her head on his chest. She remembered how much peace his heartbeat and gentle breathing brought her. The thought that she'd never experience that again brought an almost debilitating wave of grief, making her falter for a moment. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she leaned down and breathed into him again.

Joanna rose up again, but instead of resuming compressions, she raised a hand, balling it into a fist, and brought the meaty side of her fist down hard against the center of his chest. There was a hollow thump and he simply twitched. She pulled back and struck down again. Stacking her hands again, she resumed pumping down.

There was an audible pop and something gave under her palm, making her freeze. She quickly shook her head and continued despite the tears rolling down her cheeks and rising panic. Broken ribs healed.

When she leaned down to breathe for him again, she felt his jaw move. Pulling away, she cupped his face. Zayn's brow furrowed and his throat worked, Adam's apple bobbing. He still hadn't taken a breath on his own.

“Zayn? Can you hear me? You have to breathe!” The young woman cried.She pressed her mouth to his and pinched his nose shut again, forcing another breath into his lungs. There was a small rattle in his throat. She pulled away and the breath was released with no resistance. She pushed another breath into him. There was another rattle, and this time when she pulled away he let out a small cough.

“You almost got it!” She encouraged.

She breathed into him again, and this time he sputtered to life, coughing harshly and sucking in large gulps of air on his own.

It took all of her self control not to throw herself on him in a hug. A second of hacking and wheezing passed before he finally blearily cracked his eyes open. His still somewhat unfocused gaze landed on her tear streaked face.

“Hi,” he croaked.

“Hi,” she sniffled before leaning down and pressing her forehead to his. “I'm sorry.”

“Remind me… not to make you mad.”

She just pinched his cheek in response.

[breathlessheartbeat]

The subject was restless today. It had paced its cage like it sensed it was that time again. To collect samples, to test their limits. They had not idea.

As they were put on the table, it grumbled and growled until they managed to get the IV done, pull the restraints closed and place the oxygen mask in place.

The gas hissed as it left the canister and went straight for the mask.

The subject felt it wasn't oxygen right away. The smell was wrong, the temperature, the feeling of it. It started to fight the restraints, it's back arching off the table. The knees bent, the arms pushing upward, but the binds had been designed to keep them there. It tried to shake off the mask, but it was on tight.

The results became clear soon after. With all that effort, they couldn't help taking the gas in. Their muscles started to shake until they gave out, their back banging against the table.

Their mouth fell open, slack. Their eyes widened in horror, pupils dilating. The muscles spasmed now and then as the subject clung to the last of consciousness. Then, they were ready for another procedure.

The doctors took off the mask. The lead doctor checked their teeth, their tongue. Then, shone a light in their eyes. Pressed their neck, their chest, the inside of their tighs. Someone was writing down all they were saying. The subject couldn't understand it.

The doctor came back and held their neck. They pressed both sides of it, where human tonsils would be. They massaged it again and again until the subject's fangs came out. They drip drip drip their poison onto their mouth. The subject couldn't swallow. They started shaking, the desire to do so not great enough to actually do it.

Their body spasmed, completely involuntary, trying to take a breath. They were choking, choking on their own venom. Their tongue managed to move, hanging out of their mouth, displacing some of the liquid enough for them to take a wet breath.

"Heart is reacting. So are the lungs," said the assistant. "They're not immune to it."

"Maybe they're less vulnerable to it. Let's ride it out," the doctor replied.

Perhaps, undrugged, the subject could have fought her own poison. As it stood, even when the doctor put their head to the side to drain the poison out of their mouth, they did not stand a chance.

They harvested it straight from the fangs until it filled a syringe. Showing it to the subject's glassy eyes, they injected it straight into their heart.

Even before they took off the syringe, it was bobbing with the overdrive the heart was sent on. Gasps came up from their lungs, quicker and louder until they were difficult and agonal. The body rebeled, spasmed. Then, it went still.

"Less than a minute", recorded the doctor. "Get the antidote. Let's get them back online."