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cebfilm · 7 months ago

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double CPR during gyno surgery

Pre-Op Visit

Maria entered the clinic, her heart fluttering slightly as she signed in at the reception desk. The soft hum of fluorescent lights and the faint scent of antiseptic filled the air. At 23, she had grown accustomed to regular gynecological appointments for her polycystic ovarian syndrome, but today’s visit felt different. She couldn’t quite place why—perhaps it was the note she had tucked into her medical file.

Dr. Carter greeted her warmly, his voice steady and professional. “Maria, it’s good to see you again. Let’s take a closer look and discuss any changes you’ve been experiencing,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him into the examination room.

Maria settled onto the examination table, her legs resting in the stirrups, the cool sheet draped over her lap offering some modesty. She took a deep breath as Dr. Carter explained the steps of the examination, his tone calm and reassuring.

The moment felt tangible as he reached for a pair of latex-free gloves, snapping each one on with deliberate care. The faint rustle of the material was accompanied by the smooth stretch over his fingers, a prelude to the thorough examination ahead. “These will ensure everything remains sterile,” he said, flexing his hands briefly to ensure the fit was snug yet comfortable.

“We’ll start with a visual inspection of the external area,” he continued. He gently separated the labia, examining the vulva for any signs of redness, swelling, or abnormalities. “Everything looks healthy so far,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Next, he prepared a speculum, the gleaming metal instrument lubricated with a water-based gel. “I’m going to insert the speculum now. You might feel a bit of pressure, but let me know if it’s uncomfortable,” he said. Slowly and carefully, he guided the speculum into her vaginal canal, angling it to minimize discomfort.

Maria inhaled sharply at the cool sensation but relaxed as he spoke to her. “You’re doing great,” he assured her. Once the speculum was in place, he gently opened it to visualize her vaginal walls and cervix. A soft light illuminated the area as he examined the tissue for any irregularities.

“Your cervix looks healthy,” he noted. “I’m going to collect a sample for testing now. You may feel a slight pinch.” Using a small brush, he took a quick sample for a Pap smear before carefully removing the speculum.

Moving on, Dr. Carter explained the next step. “Now we’ll do a bimanual examination to check your uterus and ovaries.” He slipped on a new pair of gloves, inserting two fingers into her vagina while pressing gently on her lower abdomen with his other hand.

“This helps me assess the size, shape, and position of your uterus,” he said, his hands working methodically. “Let me know if anything feels tender.”

Maria nodded, wincing slightly as he applied pressure to one side. “There’s some sensitivity here,” she said.

“Noted,” Dr. Carter replied. “That’s consistent with your polycystic ovarian syndrome. It’s one of the reasons I recommend the upcoming procedure—to get a clearer understanding and provide relief.”

As he removed his gloves and helped her sit up, Dr. Carter maintained his professional demeanor. “You did great, Maria. I’ll explain what to expect during the surgery, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable every step of the way.”

Maria nodded, her nerves easing slightly as his calm and methodical approach reassured her.

The Procedure

The operating room was cool and sterile, with bright overhead lights casting a stark glow on Maria as she lay motionless under anesthesia. The steady beep of the heart monitor punctuated the quiet efficiency of the medical team.

Dr. Carter stood at the head of the team, reviewing Maria’s pre-op notes one last time before they began. “We’ll be performing a laparoscopic procedure to address the ovarian cysts,” he explained to the team. Instruments were laid out meticulously on the tray beside him.

After making the initial incisions, the surgical assistant inserted the laparoscope, the camera transmitting a clear view of Maria’s internal structures to the monitor. Dr. Carter carefully navigated the tool to locate the cysts.

“There’s some scarring here, likely from previous ruptured cysts,” he noted. “Let’s excise the current ones to alleviate her symptoms and preserve as much ovarian tissue as possible.”

The procedure progressed smoothly as Dr. Carter worked with precision, excising the cysts and cauterizing any bleeding tissue. The team maintained a rhythm, their movements synchronized and deliberate.

Then, without warning, the heart monitor emitted a rapid, irregular beeping.

“She’s in ventricular fibrillation!” the anesthesiologist called out.

Dr. Carter immediately stepped back. “Stop the procedure. We need to stabilize her. Call for the crash cart.”

The surgical team acted quickly, tilting the operating table flat and removing the laparoscope. A nurse began chest compressions, her hands pressing firmly on Maria’s chest. “One, two, three…” she counted, maintaining a steady rhythm.

Dr. Carter took charge. “Prep the defibrillator and administer one milligram of epinephrine,” he ordered.

The defibrillator pads were placed on Maria’s bare chest. “Charging to 200 joules. Clear!” The shock caused her body to jerk, but the monitor still showed erratic activity.

“Continue CPR,” Dr. Carter instructed. Another nurse stepped in to take over compressions, her hands pressing down in precise, rhythmic movements.

“Administer another dose of epinephrine,” Dr. Carter said. “Charge to 300. Clear!”

Maria’s body arched again as the second shock was delivered, but the ventricular fibrillation persisted. Sweat formed on the team’s brows as the resuscitation efforts continued.

Sab’s Collapse

Meanwhile, in the observation area, Sab watched in horror through the glass. The sight of Maria’s lifeless body being shocked and compressed was too much to bear. Her breath quickened, her chest tightened, and before she could cry out, she collapsed to the floor.

A nurse rushed to her side, feeling for a pulse. “She’s fainted, but her pulse is weak!” the nurse shouted. Sab was quickly transferred to a nearby stretcher.

“She’s going into cardiac arrest!” another nurse exclaimed.

“Start CPR!” a second team sprang into action. One nurse tilted Sab’s head back and began giving rescue breaths while another began compressions. “One, two, three…”

Sab’s chest rose and fell with the breaths, but her heart remained unresponsive. The defibrillator was quickly wheeled over.

“Pads on. Charging to 200. Clear!” The first shock jolted her body, but the monitor still showed asystole.

“Epinephrine, now!” the nurse ordered. Another round of CPR followed, compressions deep and steady, interspersed with breaths.

“Charge to 300. Clear!” Sab’s body arched as another shock coursed through her. Her heart finally showed a faint rhythm, but her condition remained critical.

Dual Resuscitation

Dr. Carter, now splitting his attention between Maria and Sab, directed the teams. “We’re not losing either of them,” he said with determination.

Maria’s chest compressions continued relentlessly. A nurse alternated between compressions and rescue breaths, sweat dripping as she counted aloud. “One, two, three…come on, Maria.”

“Charging to 400 joules. Clear!” The defibrillator delivered another shock to Maria, and this time, the monitor flickered—a faint pulse began to appear.

“She’s back! We’ve got a rhythm,” Dr. Carter announced, but his relief was short-lived as he turned his attention to Sab.

Sab’s compressions continued as another nurse prepared a dose of amiodarone. “Administer the antiarrhythmic,” the nurse instructed, injecting the medication into Sab’s IV line.

“Charge to 400. Clear!” Sab’s body jolted again, and after a tense moment, her heart monitor showed a weak but steady rhythm.

“She’s back!” the team exclaimed.

ICU Recovery

The sterile, rhythmic beeping of heart monitors filled the dimly lit ICU. Maria’s eyelids fluttered open, the bright fluorescent lights stinging her eyes. She blinked slowly, her body heavy, her chest aching with every breath. The sterile scent of antiseptic surrounded her, and it took a moment for the fog to clear from her mind.

“Maria,” a soft voice murmured nearby.

She turned her head slowly to see Sab lying in the adjacent bed, tubes and wires attached to her as well. Sab’s face was pale but alive, her chest rising and falling steadily.

“Sab…” Maria whispered, her voice raspy and weak. Her hand, though weighed down by IV lines, reached out shakily across the gap between their beds.

Sab’s eyes met hers, brimming with tears. She stretched her hand toward Maria, their fingers brushing lightly. “You’re okay,” Sab whispered, her voice cracking with relief. “We’re okay.”

A nurse entered the room quietly, adjusting the machines and checking their vitals. “You gave us quite the scare,” she said gently, her gaze kind. “But you’re both stable now. Rest—you’re in good hands.”

As the nurse left, Maria and Sab turned their attention back to one another. Their hands stayed clasped, their breathing syncing as they lay side by side, tethered by their shared ordeal. Though the ICU around them was cold and clinical, the warmth of their connection filled the space.

They didn’t need words. Their intertwined hands said everything: relief, gratitude, and love. The soft hum of the monitors became a comforting rhythm—a reminder that their hearts were still beating, together.

#cpr resus #gyno kink #resus community #girl cpr #defib #resus #cpr #cardiophilia

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sabrinajenre96 · 3 months ago

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Episode five ~ Babysitter’s Survival Guide”

Michael Robinavitch x wife doctor reader

Warning ⚠️: Doomsday and chaos.

“Text me if anything happens,” Y/N said for the fourth time, adjusting her earrings as she looked over her shoulder.

“We’ll be fine,” Diana assured her, already slipping on a pair of pink dish gloves like she was heading into battle. “Go. Have dinner. Talk about grown-up things that don’t involve juice boxes or dog barf.”

Michael leaned down to kiss Spencer’s forehead. “You behave for Grandma.”

“I will,” Spencer said sweetly, crossing her fingers behind her back.

Alex whispered to Kojo, “Operation Backyard Kaboom is a go.”

Sawyer immediately grabbed her crutches and pointed. “No kabooms, Alex! I swear—!”

Y/N looked at Michael. “Should we cancel?”

“Nope,” Michael said quickly. “We’re leaving before someone needs stitches.”

And with that, the parents escaped.

---

7:43 PM — Diana’s House of Mayhem

Sawyer sat in the living room with a heating pad and a murder documentary, trying to tune out Spencer’s running commentary as she marched around in her “doctor outfit” (Y/N’s old white coat, oversized glasses, and a stethoscope she definitely didn’t ask permission to use).

“I’m Dr. Spencer Robinavitch,” she declared. “Today’s patient is Kojo. He swallowed a crime.”

Kojo, loyal and tired, lay on a towel with a baby blanket over him, looking like he regretted every life decision.

Diana peeked into the room. “Spence, are you doing surgery on the dog?”

“No!” Spencer grinned. “It’s a procedure. I’m just gonna remove the imaginary ghost tooth he swallowed.”

Sawyer groaned. “I need a new family.”

---

8:17 PM — Meanwhile, in the backyard

Alex stood over his “science station,” aka the picnic table, where he had baking soda, vinegar, food coloring, and two very full water bottles.

“Behold… Volcano Boom 9000!”

Diana stepped outside just as he dropped Mentos into one of the bottles.

“NOPE!” she shouted, but it was too late.

FOOM!

Bright green foam shot five feet in the air.

Inside the house, Kojo barked and fled into the laundry room. Spencer screamed, “A TOXIC EVENT!” and began CPR on her unicorn.

Sawyer peeked outside. “Alex. What the hell.”

“It was a controlled experiment,” he said defensively, dripping in lime green foam.

Diana just stared at the backyard. “I raised your mother and she never did this.”

Sawyer yelled back, “Yeah, because she was sneaking into clubs by age sixteen, not doing science on the lawn!”

Spencer ran past yelling, “CODE RED! CODE RED! THE UNICORN’S NOT BREATHING!”

Kojo whined from behind the dryer.

Diana took a deep breath and muttered, “I’m too old for this.”

---

9:12 PM — The Aftermath

Michael and Y/N opened the front door to chaos: Spencer was asleep on the floor, still in her doctor coat, Kojo curled beside her like a patient post-op. Alex was on the couch with ice on his head, and the backyard still glowed faintly green. Sawyer had duct tape across her bedroom door with a sign that read: DO NOT ENTER UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE.

Diana handed them both a glass of wine and said, “Next time, I’m sedating all of them. Including the dog.”

Michael blinked. “Should I ask what happened?”

“Nope,” Diana said, already grabbing her purse. “All I’ll say is: karma’s a real treat, Y/N.”

Y/N groaned, looking around at the foam-splattered disaster zone.

Spencer stirred and mumbled in her sleep, “Scalpel... unicorn... I saved him...”

Alex added, “We need more Mentos... for science…”

Kojo sneezed and fell asleep again.

Michael took a sip of wine. “Let’s never leave the house again.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his. “Deal.”

#the pitt fanfiction #the pitt hbo max #michael robinavitch x wife reader #micheal robinavitch #dr robby x y/n #dr robby x reader #dr robby #dr michael robinavitch x reader #dr Michael Robinavitch #the robinavitch's adventures

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number1ladsboykisser · 28 days ago

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NOT YOUR FAULT

plot: in which zayne has a full blown panic attack after a disastrous failed surgery, therefore, you comfort him.

cw: panic attacks, significant amounts of anxiety and stress, mentions of death.

this story is based off of the upcoming 10 days with you memory, although we do not know if that is sweat or tears, i’m just going to assume it is tears for the sake of this story.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep..

Zayne tried everything.

CPR.

Defibrilliziation.

Epinephrine.

Nothing.

No signs of life. His ears rang and his eyes glistened with a pool of tears. It was all his fault wasn’t it? According to his mind, it was, and the panic bloomed throughout his chest, his heart beating quicker than before.

The patients heart isn’t beating though. he reminded himself, and his breathing became more labored and broken up.

Everyone had already left the room after they cleaned and sent the body to the morgue.

He huffed on his way around the hospital, passing through the different sectors of care. As he walked through the corridors he felt his heart rate spiking and a sudden dizziness overcoming him.

He needed to sit down.

Zayne rushed to an empty room, sitting down on the neatly arranged bed. The room glowed with the warm moonlight that was flooding through the windows.

And that was when it hit him.

A choking sensation grew in his throat, his body racking with tremors and heavy shivers. His heart physically and mentally burned. Was he having a heart attack? Cardiac arrest?

No.

It was very clearly a panic attack.

He had never had one before, he knew he had watched videos on how to calm down (just in case), but his mind was so engulfed in fog and anxiety that he couldn’t think of the methods to stop it.

(Yesss! I know, sorry for the change of POV)

I wandered through the seemingly endless corridors of Akso Hospital, looking for Zayne, it had been two hours since he said that he would be home. And can you blame a girl for worrying after her boyfriend doesn’t answer her heavy load of calls?

Only god knew what Zayne was up to. But I swear I felt it in my blood that it had something to do with that surgery Zayne mentioned that he had scheduled, maybe the procedure was taking longer than expected?

The moment I saw a receptionist, I darted into their direction and asked, “Hey, Do you know what is happening with the surgery in Room 245?”

The receptionist replied with a short “Hm..”

“Oh. The patient flatlined a little while ago, so sorry. Was she your family member or something?” The receptionist answered my question.

“Ah. No. Gotta go, sorry.” I replied and quickly walked to, and then into the elevator.

I clicked the 2 on the dark number pad and stood still.

He’s probably just giving his condolences to his family right?

Nope. Not the time to overthink this! Just have to make sure Zayne is doing ok.

This is probably pretty stressful for him. But then the elevator chimed and the doors slid open cleanly, I walked out and wandered through the hallways once again.

I had to click pause on my steps as a random rooms door was left open slightly, and not to mention.. there was someone breathing pretty heavily in there.

I should check on whoever that is to make sure that they’re ok.

I wandered to the wooden door and grasped the doorknob firmly, peeking inside, I saw a figure, a man, I would suppose.

“Sir?”

He just sat there and shook violently as his breathing grew heavy.

I slowly opened the door.

“Sir? Are you al-”

Zayne?

“Zayne is that you..?”

I rushed to his side and stared for a singular second as his arm twitched and his fingers gripped the bed.

I had never seen him like this.

My mind raced to the videos that I watched over panic attacks and how to stop them. I knew that he had watched them too so why was this even happening?

Flatlined.

The patient, she flatlined, Zayne was operating on her.

Oh.

I sprung into action and my mouth immediately opened

“Zayne..!”

“Zayne, you need to listen to me.” I spoke, my tone loud enough for him to hear in his likely cloudy head.

His eyes swiveled towards me.

“Can you name 3 things you can see?”

It took him a while to respond.

“Y-you.” Zayne hesitated and I placed a hand on his back, “The Curtains, and a Bedside table..”

“Ok. Good.. Now 3 things you can hear.” I spoke in a lighter tone.

“The wind outside, Chattering outside of the door… and some footsteps.”

“What about 3 things you can touch?” I spoke as Zayne visibly calmed down, his eyes still filled with unreleased tears.

“The bed.. the floor, and my leg.” He said softly.

Zayne looked up at me with his glossy eyes, his bottom lip trembling, almost unnoticeable.

The moment I nodded, he immediately let a strangled sound which was followed by him trying to muffle himself by burying himself between my thighs. My shorts were quickly drenched by the gallons of tears that Zayne let out.

“It’s okay.. It wasn’t your fault Zayne..” I brushed my fingers through his black hair.

He responded by placing his arms underneath my legs and sobbing harder.

“But what if it was?” he asked through his cries.

My heart felt like a knife had just pierced it.

I tried not to cry.

“Zayne. I know you try your hardest throughout each and every surgery-” I had to collect myself to stop myself from crying too. “So if it was anyone’s fault, it was certainly”

Not yours.

Not your fault.

hiya guys, my first work on this account, hope you enjoy!

this fic was written in one day and was created when I was half asleep.

please let me know if there are any Grammatical, or medically incorrect parts of this story.

baii!

#Spotify #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads zayne #lnds zayne #doctor zayne #panic attacks #zayne x mc #im cryign #writers on tumblr #doctors #lads mc #lads #pushing it down and praying #i included a song #read please #short reads

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defiblover27 · 1 year ago

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Simulation

In the bustling corridors of the underfunded hospital, a faded flyer catches the eye of passersby, its corners curling with age. "Volunteers Needed for Trauma Training Exercise," it boldly proclaims, beckoning those with a sense of adventure or altruism to step forward and lend their aid.

Among those drawn to the call is a 24-year-old woman, her determination evident in the set of her jaw as she approaches the hospital's trauma director. They exchange a brief but earnest conversation, the young volunteer expressing her willingness to participate in the training exercise while voicing her concerns about her comfort level with certain procedures.

"I'm eager to help in any way I can," she explains, her voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and resolve. "But I'll admit, I'm a bit apprehensive about some of the more invasive procedures. I'm comfortable with basic first aid and CPR, but I'm not sure I'm ready for things like intubation or defibrillation."

The trauma director nods understandingly, his expression one of reassurance rather than judgment. "That's perfectly understandable," he replies, his tone gentle yet firm. "Your safety and comfort are our top priorities. We'll tailor the scenario to suit your preferences and ensure you're only asked to participate in tasks you feel comfortable with."

With a sense of relief washing over her, the young volunteer nods gratefully, grateful for the understanding and support offered by the trauma director. Together, they discuss her role in the upcoming training exercise, mapping out a scenario that challenges her skills without pushing her beyond her limits.

Preparing the volunteer for the trauma training exercise is a meticulous process, undertaken with care and attention to detail to ensure her safety and comfort throughout the simulation.

As she arrives at the hospital, the volunteer is greeted by a team of trained professionals who guide her through each step of the preparation process. They lead her to a private changing area, where a set of hospital scrubs awaits her. With gentle encouragement, they assist her in disrobing, providing her with disposable undergarments to wear beneath the scrubs for modesty and hygiene.

Once dressed, the volunteer takes a seat as a makeup artist meticulously applies special effects makeup to simulate the injuries she will portray during the exercise. With a steady hand and an artist's eye for detail, they create realistic bruises, lacerations, and abrasions, transforming the volunteer's appearance into that of a trauma patient in need of urgent medical attention.

As the makeup artist works their magic, other members of the preparation team gather the necessary equipment for the simulation. They retrieve a backboard from its storage location, laying it out on a nearby gurney in anticipation of the volunteer's arrival. Alongside the backboard, they arrange a cervical collar (C-collar) and an inflatable orange brace designed to stabilize her right leg.

With the makeup application complete, the volunteer is guided to the gurney, where she lies down with a sense of trepidation mingled with excitement. The preparation team surrounds her, their movements practiced and precise as they secure her to the backboard with straps, ensuring she remains stable and secure throughout the simulation.

Next, they carefully position the cervical collar around her neck, adjusting it to provide support without impeding her breathing or movement. With gentle yet firm hands, they slide the inflatable orange brace into place around her right leg, inflating it to the appropriate level to immobilize the limb and prevent further injury.

As the final touches are made, the volunteer takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges that lie ahead. Though she may be nervous, she knows she is in capable hands, surrounded by a team of professionals dedicated to her well-being. With a nod of affirmation, she signals her readiness to begin, eager to play her part in the training exercise and contribute to the hospital's ongoing mission of saving lives.

The simulation begins with the trauma team gathered around the gurney, their expressions grave as they assess the condition of the patient lying before them. The young woman, named Emily, is 24 years old, her face drawn with pain as she struggles to maintain consciousness amidst the chaos of the emergency room.

Emily's injuries are extensive, the result of a harrowing car accident that left her trapped in the wreckage for hours before help arrived. She presents with multiple traumatic injuries, including a deep laceration on her forehead, contusions and bruising across her chest and abdomen, and a visibly deformed right leg.

As the medical team conducts their initial assessment, Emily groans softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she describes the events leading up to the accident. She recalls the screech of tires and the sickening crunch of metal as her car careened off the road, the world spinning in a dizzying blur before everything went dark.

Her breathing is shallow and labored, punctuated by gasps of pain as she struggles to draw air into her damaged lungs. A rapid pulse races beneath her clammy skin, a testament to the body's instinctive response to trauma as it fights to stay alive against overwhelming odds.

The trauma team works quickly and methodically, their movements a synchronized dance of urgency and precision as they address each of Emily's injuries in turn. They apply pressure to the gaping wound on her forehead, staunching the flow of blood with sterile dressings and medical tape.

Meanwhile, others attend to her chest and abdomen, palpating for signs of internal injury while monitoring her vital signs for any indication of deterioration. X-rays are ordered to assess the extent of her injuries, with the medical team bracing themselves for the possibility of life-threatening complications hidden beneath the surface.

Throughout the simulation, Emily remains conscious but disoriented, her grip on reality tenuous as she grapples with the enormity of what has happened. She reaches out for reassurance, her eyes searching the faces of the medical team for a glimmer of hope in the midst of her darkest hour.

As the simulation progresses, the trauma team springs into action with renewed determination, their focus unwavering as they fight to stabilize Emily's condition and save her life. Though the road ahead may be long and fraught with uncertainty, they refuse to give up hope, drawing strength from their collective commitment to excellence in the face of adversity.

As the simulation progresses, the trauma director approaches Emily with solemnity, his voice gentle yet firm as he explains the next phase of the exercise. "Emily," he begins, his tone tinged with empathy, "in just a moment, we'll be simulating a critical event. We'll need to simulate your heart stopping. We'll need to cut open your shirt to begin chest compressions, and we'll place an ambu bag over your mouth and nose. You should remain still and 'lifeless' during this process. You may choose to close your eyes or keep them open."

Emily nods in understanding, her heart pounding in her chest as she braces herself for what's to come. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes, surrendering herself to the immersive experience of the simulation.

The trauma team springs into action with practiced efficiency, their movements choreographed to perfection as they simulate the onset of cardiac arrest. With a swift motion, they cut open Emily's shirt, exposing her chest to the harsh glare of the overhead lights. A sense of vulnerability washes over her, but she remains steadfast in her commitment to the exercise.

Chest compressions begin in earnest, the rhythmic thud echoing through the trauma room as the medical team works tirelessly to restore circulation to Emily's failing heart. An ambu bag is placed over her mouth and nose, delivering precious oxygen to her struggling lungs with each squeeze of the bag.

Amidst the chaos, Emily lies perfectly still, her body limp and unresponsive as she embraces the role of a patient in cardiac arrest. Though her mind races with adrenaline-fueled anticipation, she remains focused on maintaining the illusion of lifelessness, drawing upon her training and instincts to convey the gravity of the situation.

As the simulation unfolds, Emily finds herself enveloped in a surreal sense of suspended animation, her senses heightened as she navigates the fine line between reality and simulation. With each passing moment, she grows more deeply immersed in the role, her commitment unwavering as she plays her part in the collective effort to save lives and improve patient outcomes.

In the tense silence of the trauma room, Emily waits with bated breath, her entire being poised on the precipice of uncertainty. Though the outcome remains uncertain, she knows she is surrounded by a team of dedicated professionals committed to her well-being, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice to ensure her safety and success in the simulation.

As the simulation progresses and Emily remains in her role, the trauma director approaches her once more, his demeanor compassionate yet resolute. "Emily," he says softly, "we need to simulate defibrillation and the removal of the rest of your clothing. Are you okay with that?"

Emily meets the trauma director's gaze with a steady nod, her determination shining through the mask of simulated injuries. "Yes," she replies, her voice steady despite the rising tide of nerves coursing through her veins. "I'm ready."

With Emily's consent secured, the trauma team prepares to take the simulation to the next level. The room hums with a sense of purpose as equipment is brought forth, including the defibrillator paddles and a privacy screen to shield Emily from prying eyes.

With practiced hands, the trauma team carefully removes the remainder of Emily's clothing, revealing her body in its entirety to the stark fluorescent lights of the trauma room. Emily feels a pang of vulnerability wash over her, but she remains steadfast in her commitment to the exercise, drawing strength from the knowledge that she is surrounded by a team of professionals dedicated to her well-being.

As the final pieces of clothing are set aside, the trauma director approaches Emily once more, his expression one of reassurance as he prepares her for the next phase of the simulation. "Emily," he says, his voice gentle yet authoritative, "we're going to simulate defibrillation now. You'll feel a brief shock, but it's perfectly safe. Are you ready?"

Emily nods, her heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. "I'm ready," she affirms, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the trauma room.

With a sense of purpose, the trauma team positions the defibrillator paddles against Emily's bare chest, their gloved hands steady as they prepare to deliver the simulated shock. A hush falls over the room as the trauma director counts down, his voice a steady cadence in the tense silence.

"Clear," he calls out, his command echoing through the trauma room.

In the next instant, Emily feels a jolt of electricity course through her body, sending a shiver down her spine as her muscles twitch in response to the simulated shock. Though the sensation is fleeting, it leaves her breathless with adrenaline, her senses heightened as she remains poised on the brink of uncertainty.

As the simulation continues, Emily finds herself drawn deeper into the immersive experience, her commitment unwavering as she navigates the challenges presented by the training exercise. Though the road ahead may be fraught with obstacles, she knows she is surrounded by a team of dedicated professionals ready to guide her every step of the way, ensuring her safety and success in the simulation.

As the simulation progresses, the trauma team continues their relentless efforts to resuscitate Emily, their movements a blur of urgency as they alternate between chest compressions, defibrillations, and the administration of resuscitation drugs.

With each compression, Emily feels the pressure against her chest, a rhythmic reminder of the tireless dedication of the medical team fighting to bring her back from the brink. The defibrillator paddles crackle with energy as they deliver simulated shocks, each one sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her body in a desperate bid to restart her faltering heart.

Amidst the chaos, the trauma director calls out the duration of Emily's cardiac arrest, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of uncertainty. "Five minutes," he intones, his words a stark reminder of the precious seconds slipping away with each passing moment.

The medical team works with practiced efficiency, their movements synchronized as they administer resuscitation drugs in a last-ditch effort to revive Emily's failing heart. The air is thick with tension as they watch for any signs of response, their collective gaze fixed on the monitor displaying Emily's vital signs.

Minutes stretch into eternity as the trauma team refuses to yield to despair, their determination unwavering in the face of overwhelming odds. With each passing moment, Emily feels herself drawn deeper into the immersive experience of the simulation, her senses attuned to the ebb and flow of life and death unfolding around her.

Though the outcome remains uncertain, Emily knows she is in capable hands, surrounded by a team of dedicated professionals committed to her well-being. As she lies in the midst of the simulated cardiac arrest, she draws upon her training and instincts to convey the gravity of the situation, embracing her role with a sense of purpose and determination that belies the simulated injuries adorning her body.

In the stillness of the trauma room, Emily waits with bated breath, her entire being poised on the razor's edge of uncertainty. Though the road ahead may be fraught with obstacles, she remains steadfast in her commitment to the simulation, ready to face whatever challenges lie in store with courage and resilience.

As the simulation intensifies, a sense of unease washes over Emily, a peculiar sensation prickling at the edges of her consciousness. Though she tries to push aside the feeling, dismissing it as a product of the immersive experience, a growing sense of dread gnaws at the pit of her stomach.

Unbeknownst to Emily or the trauma team, a medical student, eager to prove themselves in their new environment, has made a critical error. In their haste to assist with the simulation, they mistakenly administered a vial of real epinephrine instead of the simulated medication, a grave oversight that goes unnoticed amidst the chaos of the trauma room.

As the potent drug courses through Emily's veins, she feels a surge of adrenaline flood her system, her heart racing with an intensity that surpasses the bounds of the simulation. A sense of disorientation washes over her, her senses overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of physiological responses triggered by the real medication.

Despite the mounting alarm bells ringing in her mind, Emily says nothing, her voice lost amidst the cacophony of the trauma room as the medical team continues their efforts to resuscitate her. With each passing moment, her condition deteriorates, her heartbeat growing erratic as she teeters on the brink of true cardiac arrest.

In a cruel twist of fate, Emily's worst fears are realized as she plunges into the depths of a genuine cardiac arrest, her body succumbing to the deadly grip of arrhythmia. The trauma team, unaware of the unfolding crisis, presses on with their simulated interventions, their attention focused solely on the task at hand.

As Emily's consciousness fades into darkness, she realizes with a sinking heart that she is no longer a participant in a training exercise but a patient in desperate need of salvation. Though the realization comes too late to alter the course of events, she clings to a flicker of hope, praying for a miracle to save her from the abyss of death that looms ever closer with each passing second.

As the trauma director attempts to speak to Emily, a sense of urgency grips him as he notices her lack of response. His brow furrows with concern as he leans in closer, his voice tinged with desperation as he calls out her name. "Emily, can you hear me? Emily?"

There is no response, no flicker of recognition in Emily's glassy eyes as they stare blankly ahead. Panic begins to rise within the trauma director's chest as he realizes something is terribly wrong. With trembling hands, he reaches for Emily's wrist, his fingers searching for the reassuring throb of a pulse beneath her skin.

His heart sinks as he feels nothing but stillness, his worst fears confirmed in the absence of the vital sign he had hoped to find. In a state of shock, he checks for a pulse again, this time beneath the cervical collar, but the result remains the same—Emily is in cardiac arrest.

A sense of urgency washes over the trauma director as he springs into action, his training kicking in as he directs the medical team to shift their focus from simulation to reality. "She's in cardiac arrest!" he declares, his voice cutting through the chaos of the trauma room. "Start chest compressions, now!"

With practiced efficiency, the trauma team pivots to the new reality before them, their movements swift and sure as they initiate CPR in a desperate bid to revive Emily's failing heart. Each compression is a prayer whispered into the void, a plea for a miracle to breathe life back into the stillness that surrounds them.

As the trauma room buzzes with frenetic energy, the trauma director's mind races with a million questions, each one more pressing than the last. How could this have happened? What went wrong? But amidst the chaos, there is no time for answers, only action as they fight to save Emily's life against overwhelming odds.

In the midst of the turmoil, Emily lies motionless, her body a canvas for the frantic efforts of the medical team as they work tirelessly to bring her back from the brink. Though the road ahead may be fraught with uncertainty, they refuse to give up hope, drawing upon their training and expertise to navigate the stormy seas of cardiac arrest and guide Emily safely back to shore.

As the resuscitation attempts continue, the trauma room pulses with urgency, the rhythm of chest compressions driving the frantic tempo of the medical team's efforts to revive Emily. With each compression, her body sways from side to side, the force of the compressions causing her breasts to shake in a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation.

Amidst the chaos, the trauma team remains undeterred, their focus unwavering as they prepare to escalate their interventions in a desperate bid to save Emily's life. With a sense of grim determination, they gel the paddles and charge them with electricity, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air as they prepare to deliver a shock to Emily's bare chest.

In a moment fraught with tension, the paddles are placed on Emily's skin, their cold metal surface a stark contrast to the warmth of her flesh. With a silent prayer on their lips, the medical team braces themselves as they prepare to unleash the full force of the defibrillator in a last-ditch effort to restart Emily's faltering heart.

A heartbeat later, the trauma room is awash with blinding light and crackling energy as the paddles deliver their shock, coursing through Emily's body in a desperate bid to jolt her heart back into rhythm. The room holds its breath as the monitor displays the outcome, the fate of Emily's life hanging in the balance with each passing moment.

But despite their best efforts, the monitor remains stubbornly flatline, a grim testament to the stubbornness of death in the face of human intervention. With a heavy heart, the trauma team presses on, their resolve unshaken as they refuse to yield to despair.

In a final act of desperation, the medical team moves to intubate Emily, their hands steady as they guide the endotracheal tube into her airway, securing her breathing and allowing for the administration of life-saving medications

As the resuscitation efforts persist, the passage of time weighs heavily on the trauma room, each minute stretching into eternity as the medical team fights desperately to revive Emily. Over thirty agonizing minutes tick by, marked by the relentless rhythm of chest compressions and the mechanical whir of life-saving equipment.

Despite their tireless efforts, Emily's condition continues to deteriorate before their eyes. Her once rosy complexion fades to a pallid shade of gray, her skin growing cold to the touch as the chill of death creeps inexorably into the room. The gel from the defibrillator paddles glistens on her bare chest, a stark reminder of the futile battle being waged against the icy grip of mortality.

A bruise blossoms between Emily's breasts, a grim testament to the force of the chest compressions that have been administered in a desperate bid to restore her failing circulation. Her eyes remain wide open, staring blankly into the void as if searching for answers that will never come.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, the trauma team pauses momentarily, their hands hovering over Emily's motionless form as they perform a vital signs check. With a heavy heart, they prepare to confirm what they already fear to be true—that Emily is beyond saving, her journey on this mortal coil drawing to a tragic and untimely end.

A cardiac ultrasound reveals the harsh reality of Emily's condition, the images on the monitor painting a bleak portrait of irreversible cardiac damage. Her heart lies still within her chest, a silent sentinel to the finality of death's embrace.

#cpr #resus #resuscitation #defib #defibrillator #hospital

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callme-naomi · 2 months ago

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Took My Breath Away

First ever LADS post guys! I hope I've done this cutie surgeon Elsa right hehe

"Doctor in the house?"

Zayne looked up from his work to you, half-leaning through the door. "Yes, Miss Hunter. How may I help?"

"I need you to teach me something." You skidded to his table, a hand on your hip.

Closing his files, he took off his glasses to give you his undivided attention. "And that would be?"

"CPR." You happily said.

"Why would you need that?" to say he was surprised was an understatement.

"Cause I'm a hunter. I live under occupational hazards, so I should know how to do this."

"Let me rephrase. I intended to ask why would you need it now after three years of joining the Association."

"Rate of injuries and on-field deaths are skyrocketing, so best if I learned it and save some lives like you do!"

"That's my duty." responding humbly, he pushed back his chair. Shrugging off his white coat, Zayne circled to your position. "Lesson is in order."

You took a place on the end of his desk as he stood up and with gestures, explained the steps to you with his charts - you could even ask for a chart on a cough and he'd pull something up - and then he had you memorize the entire procedure.

"Check for any signs of breathing, tilt head and chin for clearer airways, give chest compressions, hard and fast, 2 inches deep, 100 to 120 compressions per minute."

"hand placement?"

"heel of hand in center of chest, other hand on top of it and interlock fingers." you tossed your hair. "I knew that."

"I know, but I had to be sure." as he began to sit back down on the chair, he looked at you. "Any questions?"

"Doesn't it include some other nose to nose things?"

"Patience, young learner. Yes, it does, but it is not necessary at all times. It need only be employed if the victim is a child, or suffering from drowning, choking or respiratory issues. I'll teach you that too, so come round to the hospital for that."

"Could you teach me now? I need to learn ASAP."

"Isn't your leave of one week?"

"Better safe than sorry. You're the one who told me that."

He rubbed the space between his eyes. "You're so hard to win against. Alright, I'll try to explain."

And then he explained using his hands. "Is that clear?"

"Could you perform it on someone? For better understanding?"

He looked around. "Unfortunately, I don't have my mannequins here to employ this on. That's why I asked to come round-"

"You could do it on me!"

He arched an eyebrow. "You're neither dying, nor drowning."

"I know. Is that necessary to learn CPR?"

"For maximum effect, but we'll make do with what we have."

And so, in the middle of his room, on the carpet you lay - 'stop wiggling, no patient I've ever performed CPR on wiggles this much' - while on your right hand side, he sat on his knees, his hands pressing over you gently as he explained the procedure.

"And in case of aforementioned cases, you'll need to give two rescue breaths after 30 compressions," his tone was ever formal. "Pinch the nose, cover their mouth with yours and then blow."

He pinched your nose lightly, and then brought his face closer but hesitated, you not failing to note the little red dusting across his cheeks.

"What? Scared of CPR?" you, who were supposed to have drowned, mumbled up at him, and even on this provocation, he did not move.

"You really thought I won't notice?" he answered, a teasing tone in his voice, finally releasing your nose. You, annoyed, slid a hand up his neck.

"Cover's blown. Might as well finish what I came for," you whispered, and then kissed him. You had expected him to anxiety-freeze, but he surprised you by responding vigorously, lifting your head off the floor to meet the kiss.

"I do not remember this," he murmured, when you broke apart, "being a part of CPR."

"Nevertheless, I think it's pretty effective, don't you think?" you got off the floor, dusting your clothes after a good lesson, "I could bring back even the dead with this step."

His reaction to your words were immediate. His green eyes seemed to have gotten a new sharpness and ferocity to them, as he placed both hands on either side of you, trapping you. You looked up to his face as he made his point clear. "I would prefer if this step didn't leave this room."

#naomi writes #zayne #li shen #shen li #doctor zayne #zayne x reader #reader x zayne #lads x reader #reader x lads #zayne x you #you x zayne #love and deepspace

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nordicmedfet · 9 months ago

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Mr A - Part 3

Its been a while since I last wrote something, hopefully you will like this next part.

________________________

Going back to mr A for the umpteen time, Iv'e honestly lost track of how many visits we've had. The waiting room now has even more pictures alonng the walls, I'm actually now one of them. As I hear the doorknob turning I immediately stand up, look him in the eyes over his mask and walk into the procedure room.

-Please put this on and lay down, he says.

He hands me the white see through gown, and a green bouffant cap, I undress and quickly step in to the gown. I stand next to the bed and using a step stool i get up on the bed. Laying down on the cold and narrow bed. Mr A smiles as he brings my arm out onto the armrests, strapping my arms down, he then places a blanket over me making me feel comfortable. After putting in an IV he begins to preoxygenate me.

-Just take some deep breaths he camly says, pusing the propofol throug my IV. Slowly but surely i drift of to sleep, and Mr A now takes a better hold of my face and the anaesthesia mask, pressing them tightly together. He then lift my chin up and turn on the anaesthesia gas. Pusing breath after breath into my lungs with help of the rebreathing bag.

After a minute or two he gently lifts the mask, my face droops as im sedated. He gently tips my face up to make the intubation easier. He places the LMA into my mouth, and firmly pushes it deeper down my throat. The LMA is then filled with air and gently move as it adjust itself. After hooking me up to the ventilator and taping the tube to my face he removes my paper gown, exposing my naked body. Placing ECG leeds on my chest, a bloodpreasure cuff on my arm and a pulse ox on my finger.

Preparing for the surgery he places my legs in stirrups, and then proceeds to place a urine catheter into my bladder, as he plans on keeping me sedated for a while. The next step is to sterilise the field. He pours brown alcohol into a bowl, dipping swabs into the liquid to begin wash the surgical field. He begins to wash my entire belly up to my ribs. The solution drips down my sides and under me. The curves of my abdomen shakes as he drag the swab back and forth. He proceeds to swab my pubic area and submerges the area in sterile alcohol. Next he wipes over my left labia, then the right. He end of by swabbing over onto my inner thighs. He changes the alcohol to a more gentle type, and then proceeds to swab my vagina and the inside of my cervix. Swirling the swab around, changing to a new swab and repeats it a couple of times.

The surgical drapes are placed and stick onto my body. Exposing the pubic area to be operated on. He places drapes on my thighs and pressing them down to make them stay on.He gently begins to tuch my vagina as he proceeds to places a speculum in it, opening it step by step.

As he makes the first cut in my belly button, the blood start to slowly appear. He dabs a cloth over it and proceeds to place the co2 line to inflate my belly. He then makes two cuts around it to place the laparoscopy camera and laparoscopic tools. He works on me for a few minutes until my sats and heartbeat start dropping. He runs to the top of the bed disconnecting me from the ventilator and using the ambu bag to help press down the air. He begins to pound my chest, one two three four... He grabs the AED and place it on my chest. The AED analyse my heartbeat and advise Mr A to give a chock.

My entire body lifts of the table and slam down again, shaking my breastsand belly. The CPR resumes and he gives me another even stronger chock. One last round of hard and vigorous cpr by Mr A before he turn of the machines and sit down with his face in his hands. His first loss..

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she-karev · 4 months ago

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Staying Strong (Jolex Pregnant Angst with a Happy Ending Imagine)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Alex Karev x Jo Wilson/Jo Karev

Canon Episode: Season 21 Episode 9

AN: Hey guys, so like all of you I hated how Link treated Jo after the shooting and making things worse and I couldn’t help but think how Alex would have been so much better in this situation. If you haven’t seen the spring premiere, I suggest you do because there are SPOILERS here. Here’s what should have happened instead, like and reblog and let me know what you think enjoy!

Summary: Jo arrives at the hospital after being held at gunpoint and experiencing pelvic pain. Alex is immediately by her side and tries to be strong for her but breaks down after her procedure causing her to comfort him.

Words: 5000

July 14th, 2023

Maya Bishop slams the ambulance doors on her way out wheeling the stretcher ready to enter the robbery scene with Travis Montgomery by her side. All they know about the call is that a robber with a gun held up three people at a convenience store before he was tackled and shot himself in the shuffle.

It’s another day to Maya who is looking to work since her wife, Carina DeLuca, left for Italy an hour ago to attend a medical conference. Carina promised to call her when she lands and Maya promised to FaceTime her with their son, Liam.

Maya was worried about her pregnant wife being on a plane, but Carina eased her worries saying the baby would be safe during flight. Right now, Maya is focused on the scene in front of her talking to Travis as they walk down the street from the aid car.

“So the shooter was shot with his own gun?” Maya asks.

“Yep.” Travis confirms with a frown, “Hottest time of the year, the brain is practically fried, add a gun that he probably got from a pawn shop with no background check your looking at humanity at it’s worst.”

“Privacy matters more than safety that’s the motto.” Maya agrees with her friends view on gun control before they enter the store where they immediately recognize the woman sitting on the floor wearing black scrubs. Maya is shocked to see her friend, Jo Karev, at the scene sobbing softly while clutching her stomach.

“Jo?!” Maya immediately rushes over to her passing Lucas Adams who is performing CPR on the man she can discern as the shooter. The blonde firefighter kneels in front of the pregnant OB checking her for injuries, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Jo swallows the lump in her throat answering her OB’s wife, “No I wasn’t shot, Adams tackled him.”

Travis steps in to perform CPR for Adams who is breathing heavily, “What do we got?”

“28-year-old male, GSW to the right chest no exit wound. I’ve been doing compressions for six minutes.”

“He’s barely breathing we need to intubate, get the kit from the bag.” Adams helps him with the women behind them in their own crisis as well.

“What’s wrong?” Maya asks Jo who is crying in pain and despair, “Tell me where it’s hurts.”

“My stomach hurts, I think I’m bleeding.” Jo sniffles with Maya feeling around her stomach for any obstruction, “Maya my babies…are my babies, okay?”

“We’re gonna take you to the hospital and find out.” Maya turns to the paramedics who walked in with another stretcher, “Call Grey Sloan tell them we have two incoming traumas I don’t care if their closed tell them it’s urgent!”

Later

Amber DeLuca nee Karev and her husband, Andrew DeLuca, rush out to the ambulance bay where multiple sirens are heard before aid cars pull up. Amber tries calling Owen Hunt who left unexpectedly just as Ben Warren opened to Trauma against Teddy Altman’s orders. She growls under her breath when her call goes to Hunt’s voicemail.

“Hunt! Where the hell are you?!” Amber starts with a vicious question, “Trauma is going through five kinds of hell right now and I think that should be your concern since you’re the fucking chief of trauma! Get your ass back here or I will drag you by your ear!”

Her husband points to the ambulances in the back of the line, “Let’s take this one, you’re with me.”

“At least I can count on you to not abandon me at the very worst time possible.” Amber continues her voicemail, “Take my husband’s example and do your damn job. It’s Amber by the way.”

She ends the voicemail just as Ben Warren announces to the ambulances in the back, “All right that’s the last one. We are closing to trauma!”

The second to last aid car is exited by Lucas Adams who looks worse for wear with blood stained on his scrub top along with a bandage on his arm. Amber’s eyes widen at this quickly running to her intern.

She grips the young man’s shoulders quickly looking over him for injuries and bombarding him with questions as her worry escalates, “Adams what happened to you? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, it’s not all mine.”

Andrew looks over to be shocked by who is on the stretcher being wheeled out by his sister-in-law, Maya, “Jo?”

Amber gasps at the sight immediately rushing to her side, “Oh my god Jo! What happened? Is she okay?”

Maya explains, “She and Adams were held up at a robbery, she has stomach pains.”

“Got a gunshot wound over here!” Travis announces one ambulance behind causing Andrew to spring into action while his wife tends to a sickly Jo.

“What do we got?” DeLuca asks checking the vitals of the intubated man as Adams presents despite the stress.

“His name is Damian 28-year-old male. GSW to the right chest no exit wound.”

“He was with you?” Altman asks.

“He held up the store.” Adams single sentence stops the doctors cold at the realization this man almost killed two of their coworkers. Amber gapes at the intubated man silently wishing him a worse fate for putting her beloved sister on this stretcher.

DeLuca shares the same viewpoint as well stepping back from Damian’s stretcher, “I-I can’t…”

“All right I’ll go.” Teddy offers stepping in, “Stay with Karev and page Bailey.”

“No page OB she’s pregnant.” Amber tells the chief who is shocked but nods, “Let’s get her inside let’s go!”

Amber, Andrew and Maya rush the stretcher to the entrance while Jo is wracked with worry, “Someone get my husband please.”

“I’ll go.” Amber offers turning to her husband on the other side of the bed, “Stay with her while I get him and page OB.”

“I got it go.” With that Amber runs inside with her focus lasered on finding her brother and informing him of what’s happening to his pregnant wife. The blonde chief resident opts to take the stairs not wanting to waste a second in case Alex is about to go to surgery.

She finally arrives on the peds floor and looks around frantically finally finding her oldest brother leaving a patient room with a thin layer of sweat covering his face as he looks over the tablet. Amber rushes towards him, stopping him in place.

“Alex.”

The chief of peds looks up surprised by his sister’s presence, “Hey I thought you were in the pit today.”

“I am this isn’t medical, this is personal.”

Alex furrows his eyebrows in worry, “What’s wrong?”

Amber exhales before explaining, “Adams and Jo were held up at a store the guy had a gun.”

Alex’s eyes widen at that, “She’s in the pit, she wasn’t shot but-” Her sentence stops with a tablet being shoved against her chest that she takes as her brother immediately runs towards the nearest stairs seeking to find his wife who is pregnant with their twins.

He hears nothing and sees nothing as he rushes past all the people in his way to the emergency room. All his mind can process is that his wife was held up by a man with a gun…just like he was 13 years ago. It’s that sickening memory that makes him run at top speed needing to see his wife who is carrying their unborn babies.

He enters the pit frantically searching the beds and finding his wife in bed 3 with Bailey, his brother-in-law Andrew DeLuca and Lucas Adams by her side accessing her. Instead of the bubbly and glowing woman he handed Sno Balls to today he sees a pale ghost with her belly exposed and tear-stained cheeks.

It breaks his heart and makes his guilt skyrocket but he persists knowing she needs him to be strong so she can break down and be comforted by him. He runs over and she grins slightly, happy to see him after the day she has had.

“I came as soon as I could, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Jo strokes her husband’s face overcome with relief at seeing a familiar face, “I wasn’t shot so that’s something I was bleeding, and I felt stomach pains. Adams tackled the shooter, and he shot himself and then we were brought here.”

Alex exhales in relief at that recap turning to the intern, “Adams remind me to let you assist me on all of my surgeries after this.”

“It was nothing.” Adams brushes off.

“It wasn’t nothing.” Alex points out, “Trust me as someone whose been through what you and Jo have things could have gotten much worse for my wife if you weren’t there so I’m thanking you and your gonna let me got it?”

“Got it.” Adams checks Jo’s vitals, “Her BP is 105 over 65.”

Alex frowns at those numbers holding his wife’s hand who holds his tightly needing an anchor afraid of what is happening to her babies right now.

“That’s…good.” Bailey says uneasily turning to the Karev’s, “How many weeks are you?”

“Sixteen weeks.” Jo explains still holding Alex’s hand, “I had an appointment a week ago and everything looked fine.”

“Has anybody paged OB? Carina is her doctor.”

Andrew looks at his brother-in-law with regret, “She left for Italy this morning, she’s probably on a plane right now. We can page the OB on call.”

“I can do it.” Adams offers before Bailey stops him.

“No, you will not. You will get yourself checked. Dr. DeLuca.”

Andrew snaps his gloves off approaching Adams, “Come on let’s take a look at that arm.”

“I was just grazed. It can wait.”

“Do you think your colleague wants you to see me do her ultrasound?” Bailey asks putting him in his place, “No. Go. Now. Don't let him out of your sight.”

DeLuca nods practically dragging Adams before Jo speaks stopping him, “Wait, wait. Adams. Thank you.”

Adams nods before leaving with Andrew. Jo immediately grabs the ultrasound wand desperate for answers.

“Bailey, I need to see for myself.”

Alex makes a go for the wand, “I’ll do it you just lie back.”

Bailey steps in grabbing the wand from both, “You are not your doctor and neither is your husband. Okay? We paged OB. In the meantime, I will do the ultrasound.”

Alex inhales sharply, holding Jo’s hand as they anxiously observe the monitor showing a black and white image of Jo’s womb. He was nervous when they found out it was twins but now, he doesn’t care how many babies are in Jo’s uterus just as long as they are healthy and safe.

“All right. The placenta looks great. Hey, no abruption.”

“What about the heartbeat?” Alex asks nervous before Bailey moves to get it.

Bailey smiles at the sound in the monitor, “We have a strong heartbeat right there.”

Alex lets out the breath he was holding overcome with relief while his wife smiles happy at the news as well. He lifts her hand he is holding kissing her knuckles in gratitude before she asks their impromptu OB.

“What about the other one?”

Bailey looks confused by that question, “There’s an ‘other one’?”

“Yeah, imagine our shock when we first found out.” Alex confirms not caring how many babies they are having as long as all of his children are safe and healthy.

“Okay, let me see.” The couple watch the monitor in suspense over the state of their other baby. They hear a heartbeat causing Jo to exhale in relief and Alex to kiss the top of her head at the most glorious sound he’s ever heard, “Oh. There it is. Oh, beautiful.”

Alex begins to breathe normally again, “Everything’s okay? Jo and the babies are okay?”

“Everything looks great.” Bailey states, “It’s just these two, right?”

Alex and Jo chuckle lightly, “As far as we’re aware.”

Jo inhales sharply causing Alex and Bailey to look at her concerned, “Jo what’s wrong?”

Jo suddenly sits up gasping in pain and groaning while she clutches her stomach. Alex’s eyes widen in shock knowing as a former student of Dr. Montgomery’s that sharp pain while pregnant could mean possible miscarriage in the list of possible complications. His training mixes with his concern as a husband and expecting father.

“Jo!”

“Oh god it hurts!”

She continues groaning holding Alex’s hand tightly while her other hand is against her stomach, “I’m right here, I’m right here baby. Get her up to OB now!” A nurse assists Bailey in transport with Alex never leaving her side holding her hand wanting more than anything for her and their babies to be okay.

Later

“Does this make it better?” Alex asks as he rubs Jo’s lower back that she complained is the main source of pain. He would normally give a patient morphine for the pain but not if they’re pregnant, so he sticks to holistic methods he learned from Addison.

Jo exhales slightly more comfortable, “A little. Where did you learn to do this?”

“I was on Dr. Montgomery’s service for a while intern year. She taught me what I needed to ease pregnant women’s pain when they refused pain meds.”

“Remind me to thank her for deeming you worthy of her masterful massaging skills.”

Alex chuckles lightly, “She didn’t deem me worthy she just wanted to punish me because I was a major asshole and almost got her fired for doing her job.”

“Was that before or after you slept with her?”

“Before.” Alex recaps still massaging her back, “I was an ass, but I also had that charm that got you to fall madly in love with me.”

“I fell madly in with you?” Jo teases, her pain lessens as they converse, “Because from I remember you fell for me first buddy.”

“Yeah, but you fell harder.” Alex counters grinning at the memory of how they started, he is relieved Jo seems to be doing better.

Jo grins in nostalgia as well lying on her side enjoying the massage, “And I still am with your wonderful hands.”

Bailey enters the room, “So Dr. Marcus is on his way.”

Alex and Jo immediately say no both of them knowing Marcus and his terrible bedside manner. Jo is very strongly against it vocalizing their disagreement.

“No. Absolutely not. Literally anybody else.”

Alex pleads with his former teacher, “Come on Bailey, Marcus and Carina can’t be the only OB’s in this huge hospital and big OB floor.”

“Uh, well, DeLuca is in Italy, Patel's on leave, Kincade's in the OR.” Jo groans at that with Alex rubbing her shoulder in comfort, “Isn't, um, Dr. Marcus the chief OB resident?”

Jo is insistent however, “It's doesn't matter! He's not taking a trip down there.”

Alex nods in agreement finding Marcus to be too talkative and strange for an OB, “Any chance Addison is in town? Please say yes.”

Bailey sighs trying to change their minds, “Okay. I know it can be difficult to be the patient with someone you usually work with, but you need somebody in-”

Marcus runs inside with Bailey taken back by his youthful face despite his job title, “Karev. God, I-I just heard what happened. Are you okay?”

“You’re…” Bailey snorts amused, “Marcus?”

“Yes, I finished med school. Undergrad only took me two years. It's Bailey, right?”

Bailey turns to Alex who raises an eyebrow in an ‘I told you so’ fashion causing her to very softly say, “I apologize.”

Marcus doesn’t notice as he is busy looking over the chart, “Wow, twins? It's a party.”

Alex and Jo glare at him but it doesn’t kill his sunny disposition as he continues, “So, based on the initial workup, it's likely stress that's causing the bleeding.”

Jo looks relaxed at that expecting the worst, “Okay. Okay. That's good. That's good.”

Alex squeezes her arm in reassurance, “She's also having acute back pain and there is bleeding from the pelvic area.”

“Karev, next steps.” Marcus jokes causing the couple to glare at him again slightly scaring him as he frowns and clears his throat, “Kidding, jeez. Uh, pain and bleeding could also indicate other complications, so I'd like to-”

Carina DeLuca rushes inside wearing her black scrubs saving them from the strange chief resident, “I came as fast as I could how is everything?”

Marcus is surprised at this, “Oh Dr. DeLuca I thought you were on leave.”

“I was and I am not anymore.” Carina turns to her patient who looks surprised that she is here as well, “Maya called me just as I was about to board and told me what happened. I decided you and these babies were more important than a conference I can go to next year.”

“It’s fine Dr. DeLuca.” Marcus insists, “I got it from here, you can still catch your flight.”

Carina answers back sharply annoyed by him as well, “Thank you Dr. Marcus but my plane already left and this is where I am most needed. The Karev’s are my patients, I am familiar with their case, and I will take over from here. You can go now, I’m sure the OB floor has plenty of patients who need your medical expertise.”

Marcus looks taken back but complies to Alex and Jo’s relief, “Okay let me know if you need me.” The young resident leaves the room.

Alex looks at Carina with so much love for getting them out of that uncomfortable situation, “Carina if these babies turn out to be girls, I’m naming them after you and your wife.”

Jo nods in love with their kind OB right now as well, “Same, it’s only right these babies are named after beautiful angels like you and Maya.”

Carina chuckles bashful at the compliments as she looks over the chart, “Be careful we might just hold you on that. Is there still bleeding?”

“It’s slowed down but I’m feeling heaviness below. Could it be a miscarriage?” Jo asks in horror.

“We don’t know what is causing the complication, we need to observe the problem and figure out what to do moving forward.” Carina points out, “We need a closer look and find out what is causing the bleeding, I’d like to do a pelvic ultrasound.”

Alex nods, “Absolutely, anything you need to make sure Jo and these babies are okay.”

“Okay.” Carina turns to Bailey, “Let’s get the supplies and give them a minute.”

Carina and Bailey leave the room with Alex holding Jo as she shudders anxious for what the results will show.

Later

“You’re doing great Jo but I need you to relax just a little bit.” Carina instructs behind the blue curtain with Jo’s uterus in her view while Alex is by her side holding her hand and rubbing her shoulder to relax her.

“Okay.” Jo tries to relax during her pelvic examination.

Carina sees her worry and decides to converse with her to ease the tension, “If you want, I can ask Maya to bring Liam over to the daycare so he can play with Luna and Lucia. Since we found out I’m pregnant Maya and I wanted to give him practice playing with his cousins before playing with his sibling. That sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

Jo nods grateful for the distraction, “Yeah that sounds great Luna loves playing with all of her cousins too.”

“Luna, Lucia and Liam.” Alex recites the names of his daughter, niece, and honorary nephew, “What are the odds all of our kids’ names start with L?”

“I’m telling you right now Anakin we are not naming our twins Luke and Leia.” Jo puts out there causing Alex to grin.

Carina steps back snapping her gloves off, “Your exam shows your cervix is 18 millimeters.”

Jo looks worried once again, “So, I’m an imminent risk for preterm labor.”

Alex shares his wife’s worry knowing the danger their babies face as well, “She’s 16 weeks, is there anything we can do to stabilize her cervix?”

“I would recommend a cervical cerclage. It's placing a suture around the cervix to keep it closed. It will allow your wife’s pregnancy to continue as normal and get her to 40 weeks before labor.”

“I’ve assisted Dr. Montgomery in a few of those.” Alex points out, “There’s a risk of infection and stenosis. Is there another option?”

“This is the only option.” Jo states as an OB, “Besides terminating the pregnancy.”

“She’s right Alex.” Carina supports Jo, “Cervical cerclage was risky back then but now it is much safer and the absolute best way to preserve the health of your wife and babies. I know this is a tough decision, but we need to act fast before she starts having contractions. Do you two need time to discuss this?”

Alex sighs before turning to his wife, “You’re the OB and it’s your uterus, what do you want to do?”

Jo takes a deep breath weighting her option, “…I want to do the procedure. I want to give my babies the best outcome and this is it.”

Alex inhales uneasy but willing to listen to reason, “Okay, let’s do it.”

Jo holds his hand grateful to have him by her side and support her decision before turning to their OB, “I’ll do the cervical cerclage.”

That Night

Jo lies in bed exhausted after her cervical cerclage talking to Carina who tells her what the aftercare is. Her husband is out dropping their daughter, Luna, off at his sister's house so she can be taken care of while Jo is looked after while she’s recovering.

“The cerclage went beautifully.” Carina recaps with a proud grin, “There are no complications, your BP is stable and so is your uterus. Your babies are sleeping comfortably inside as they should be.”

“Thank you, Carina.” Jo says gratefully, “I know it was your day off and I really appreciate you coming down here and helping me.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to leave a member of my family in the hands of a random OB in her time of need.” Carina states smiling at her brother’s wife’s sister-in-law who has become a part of her professional and personal life the last few years, “Especially when that random OB is Marcus.”

Jo groans amused, “And that is why one of these babies will be named after you after saving me from a possibly awkward exam with him.”

“And my wife.” Carina reminds Jo with a smile, “She is the reason I’m here and you said she would be a namesake too.”

Jo laughs at that, “Yes, I did say that didn’t I. It’s the least I can do for the women who saved my babies. Seriously though I am glad I have you for my teacher and my doctor. Thank you so much Carina.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” Carina responds with a flattered grin, “Its my job. And it’s also my job to tell you to take it easy for the next few days. No work and don’t strain yourself.”

“After the day I have had I will gladly follow that advice.”

“Good. I’m gonna leave nurse Taylor to look after you if there is anything you need or any complications do not hesitate to call me.”

“I will.” Jo agrees, “Have a good night.”

“Good night.” Carina walks out of the room past Alex who enters the room in his casual clothes.

He sits by Jo’s side happy to see she is doing better, “I already dropped off Luna at my sisters and DeLuca’s. All she knows is that she’s having a sleepover with her favorite cousin. How are you doing? Do you want something to eat? Maybe some juice?”

“Alex.” Jo starts with a thoughtful tone, “You’ve been so focused on me today, trying to keep me from breaking apart from what happened to me. You knew I was at my most vulnerable and you stayed so strong, trying to carry me and take care of me like you always have.”

“It’s my job.” Alex states simply, “It’s what I always do.”

“I know.” Jo agrees with so much love in her voice, “And it’s what I do on a daily basis since I joined OB. I treat women at their most vulnerable and I stay calm and strong so they can fall apart. But I’m still human and so are you.”

Alex narrows his eyes confused as Jo elaborates, “I was held up at a store by a crazy man with a gun. You were shot by a crazy man with a gun. Anyone would be triggered by that including you.”

Alex sighs trying to brush off her concerns convinced she needs comfort more than him, “I’m fine.”

“Alex.” Jo persists looking at her husband with kindness and understanding that hits his heart, “The worst is over. I’m here, I’m okay, the babies are okay, and you don’t have to stay strong to keep me from falling apart anymore. I know you’ve been doing that your whole life with your family and your patients, but I can take care of you like you take care of me. It’s a two-way street with us Alex, it always has been. And today wasn’t just hard for me it was hard for you too. So let me know how you’re really feeling so I can make it better, please.”

Alex is overcome with so much love for his wife that it takes his breath away. When he and Izzie were married, he never felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with her. She always thought of him as a callous and tough guy and never thought he could be hurt. He’s always given that impression his whole life and gradually succumbed to it…until he met Jo.

Slowly but surely this bright and bubbly intern he first met broke his defenses down and for the first time he felt like he could let his guard down without worrying about getting hurt. Even when things were rough for them, he never felt like she could hurt him on purpose like Izzie did. It’s what made him sure he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.

There was a moment he wanted to retreat into his shell four years ago when she like his mother and so many other women in his life shut him out and suffered in silence. He had to stay strong when she was suffering from depression but eventually, he trusted her enough to be vulnerable again.

He trusted her enough to not break down when he shares his worries with her. He is remined of this once again when she makes it known that it is okay for him to break down because she will lift him up.

It’s what causes his emotions to finally escape the fortress in his mind with a shaky breath as he grips her small palm needing her to anchor him this time. He can feel tears start to pool his eyes as Jo lifts her other hand to caress his cheek.

“When Amber told me what happened…” Alex swallows the lump in his throat looking at his wife with tears in his eyes, “My mind went back to 13 years ago, when it was me on the other side of a maniac with a gun. The pain was bad, it got worse when I dragged myself into an elevator. And it skyrocketed when Sloan and Lexie operated on me without anesthesia in a conference room with a crazy gunman still in the building.”

Jo is horrified at this description not imagining how it was for her husband who went through that hell. Nevertheless, she keeps a cool face stroking Alex’s cheekbone with her thumb to keep him grounded and make sure he doesn’t get lost in that nightmare.

It works as Alex inhales deeply reminding himself that he is in a hospital room with his pregnant wife and not bleeding on a wooden table. He is able to continue his confession that gradually becomes easier.

“And…And I was worried it happened to you and our children too.” Alex places his hand on Jo’s pregnant belly, “I thought I was gonna lose everything today. I’ve survived a lot, I had to raise my siblings when my mother couldn’t, I had to take care of Izzie when she was sick. I thought I could handle anything that life threw at me…but what I can’t handle is losing you and our children. It’s gonna be the thing that breaks me.”

“I know the feeling.” Jo shares holding Alex’s hand that is spread across her gorging belly, “It’s how I felt when I was in pain at the store. I thought I was gonna lose a part of me and you in the worst way possible. I thought the worst thing that could happen to us would come true, but it didn’t. I’m still here, our babies are still here, you didn’t lose us today and you’re not going to if we can help it. I promise.”

“And I promise to keep doing my part in that too.” Alex declares feeling grounded after the hectic day rubbing her pregnant belly, “I love you more than anything. And I love Julius and Vincent more than anything too.”

She raises an eyebrow at his proposal, “I watched a lot of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies as a kid and Twins was one of my favorites. What do you think?”

The monitor beeps calling his attention and realizes it’s Jo’s reaction to the names, “Is that your BP?”

“Yeah, it’s the twins saying not to name them after cheesy movie characters.” Jo says with an amused grin, “Also their mommy wants a small pizza with an orange juice.”

Alex stands up, “Got it, I’ll be right back.” Alex leaves to fulfill Jo’s request who lays back in back watching her husband walk away as her love for him and their babies grow after a hard day that is now ending happily.

#greys anatomy spoilers #greys spoilers #greys anatomy #greysanatomy #grey's anatomy #greysedit #greysanatomyedit #grey's anatomy edit #alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #jolex #headcanon #mine #what should have been #what could have been #pregnant #pregnancy

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 1 year ago

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Yo this Time Lord that took me in like a pet has started acting really ill.

Like they have a cold or something.

What do I do and should I be worried??

Emergency Response

[Fast-tracked due to urgency]

We would require more information to offer a precise diagnosis, but here is a standard procedure for you to follow:

🩺 Immediate Actions

Here’s what you should do immediately:

Keep Calm: Time Lords have incredible immune systems and advanced medical technology, so there's a good chance they'll be okay.

Check the TARDIS Medical Supplies: The TARDIS should have a Medbay or at least some medical supplies. Depending on the TARDIS model, the Medbay may be able to offer guided medical advice in your local language.

Offer Comfort: Make sure your Time Lord is comfortable, offer some fluids and keep the environment calm.

Suggest Healing Actions: Ask your Time Lord if they would benefit from a Healing Coma or Zero Room visit.

📞 When to Worry

You should be concerned if:

Symptoms Worsen Rapidly: They start exhibiting severe symptoms like extreme fatigue, high fever, or other unusual behaviour.

They Can’t Heal: Their illness prevents them from healing trauma.

Psychic Distress: They seem mentally disturbed or are experiencing severe psychic pain/headaches.

They Are Glowing: Glowing is a precursor to a full regeneration.

👩‍⚕️ Seek Help

If things don’t improve:

Use TARDIS Communications: Your Time Lord's TARDIS should have communication tools to directly contact Medics specialising in Gallifreyan physiology or other Time Lord associates for further advice or assistance. If you are able, ensure you have performed emergency Gallifreyan assessments to help speed up the medical response and provide detailed information about the symptoms and any steps already taken.

Follow Directions for a Cardiac Arrest: If required, you may need to perform CPR.

Be Prepared for Regeneration: If regeneration is inevitable, ensure the environment is safe by removing potential hazards. After the regeneration, be ready to assist your Time Lord with post-regeneration disorientation and needs. This might include providing sustenance, helping them with personal care, and monitoring for any irregularities in the regeneration process.

🏫 So ...

By following these steps, you can ensure that you're doing everything possible to help your Time Lord. Remember, Time Lords are resilient, and with the right care, they can overcome most ailments.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#doctor who #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #gallifreyans #whoniverse #time lord biology #ask answered #GIL: Asks #gallifreyan biology #GIL: Biology #GIL: Biology/Medical #GIL: Species/Gallifreyans #GIL

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ashsfandomcorner · 6 months ago

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Every step of the way by Angelwithwingsoffire, DaniWib

Fandom: 9-1-1

Ship: Buck/Eddie

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete

Words: 45,970

Site: AO3

Summary:

After the tsunami that devastated Los Angeles, Athena goes to the rescue after a report of people in need of help. To her horror, she finds Christopher and Buck stranded amidst the wreckage of the city. And Buck’s leg is pinned — the same leg that had only just healed from being crushed by a ladder truck. As time runs out, Buck is being crushed all over again, and Athena faces an impossible choice. With Christopher watching, she must decide: do the unthinkable, risking Buck’s career as a firefighter forever, or hesitate — and let the man beloved by the 118 die in front of the boy who might as well be his son?

Sneak Peak:

He was still crying. Buck held him like that for as long as he dared, but the more time that passed the closer he was getting to passing out. He had to get the tourniquet on properly before that happened. Pressing a kiss to the top of Chris’s head, Buck moved him back gently and returned to his task. He bit his lip to muffle his grunts, each one coinciding with another yank on the belt. The pain was growing worse and worse, making it hard to think or speak. But there was one more thing he needed Chris to know. “Chris.” It was more of a gasp than anything. “I think I’ll probably pass out in a minute. I’m gonna need you to feel my pulse if I do. I’m so sorry buddy, but there’s a chance the shock is too much and my heart might stop. If that happens—” “I know how to find a pulse. And do CPR,” Chris said, a look of determination on his face. “Daddy taught me.” Buck blinked at the unexpected information, blessing Eddie for his forethought. “Your daddy is a clever guy, isn’t he? I hope you won’t need to do it on me. But if you do, don’t be scared. Use all your strength and don’t worry if you hear cracking or popping sounds. That means it’s working. And call out for help, too.” “I can do it,” Chris said earnestly. “I’ll look after you, Buck.”

TW:

graphic description of a field medical procedure (amputation)

Link:

Every step of the way by Angelwithwingsoffire, DaniWib

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the8006files · 18 days ago

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THIS POST IS THE FILES FOR SCP-8006-2, ALSO KNOWN AS DOCTOR DOCTOR; DOCTOR; DR; DOC; PARASITE.

THE “DOCTOR” OR “SCP-8006-2” FILES CONTAIN INFORMATION THAT MAY BE SEEN AS DISTURBING TO SOME AUDIENCES.

IF ONE HEAVILY DISTURBED BY DRUGS, PARASITES, VIOLENCE, BODY HORROR, CANNIBALISM (SLIGHT MENTIONS OF, IMPLIED) AND DEATH AS A WHOLE READS PAST, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY DISTRESS. THIS IS A WARNING.

this is an introduction post for my scp oc.

THE DOCTOR FILES

ENTRY ONE. SCP-8006-2; DOCTOR DOCTOR; DOC; PARASITE

Item #: SCP-8006-2

Object Class: Euclid

Containment Procedures: SCP-8006-2 is housed in a cell in Site-19. The cell has to be decorated like a doctor's office.

If it is not in its cell, do not panic. It is likely:

A. Allowed to free roam the facility as long as it is without any items on its person.

Or B. With any of the officers that take care of it.

If it is not either A or B, then it needs to be put back into its cell as soon as possible.

SCP-8006-2 is known to carry around various medical tools. If you are not one of their caretakers, then contact Officer Murphy, Officer Tachyphylaxis, or Officer Pale. If you believe you can fight it yourself, you can't.

If you are their caretaker, then make sure to follow the steps presented:

- Its syringe is (usually) not dangerous.

- Kindly decline any drugs they give you. Even if it says that it's candy. NOTE: Make sure Phylaxis hears this fact. NOTE: fuck you

Description: SCP-8006-2 is a dark navy blue (almost black) immortal parasitic worm that looks like a tapeworm. Its latest victim, named Sunny [REDACTED], was semi-controlled by the parasite. The parasite had made Sunny take various drugs, leading to Sunny committing suicide with said drugs via overdose. This granted SCP-8006-2 full control over the body.

NOTES: it's cool it gives me drugs and stuff even though they're probably laced

ENTRY TWO. OFFICER MURPHY; MURPH; JOSEPH

Officer "Murphy" ██████, also known as Murph, or Joseph(?), is one of the main agents keeping SCP-8006-2 in check.

- Phylaxis has to teach him how to handle SCP-8006-2 correctly.

Injuries due to SCP-8006-2 consist of: A stab to the neck with a syringe. The injury never stopped bleeding until SCP-8006-2 put a bandaid on it. If bandaid is taken off, blood WILL spray all over you; Eye is damaged due to a shot in the eye;

"Diagnoses" consist of: [REDACTED] disorder, its contagious; Cream;

NOTES: I'm so glad Harpy exists, I think I'd be dead if she wasn't here...

MY NAME IS NOT JOSEPH.

ENTRY THREE. OFFICER TACHYPHYLAXIS; OFFICER PHYLAXIS; PHYLAXIS

Officer "Tachyphylaxis" ██████, also known as Phyl, or Phylaxis, is one of the main agents keeping SCP-8006-2 in check.

- Phylaxis is prone to taking the drugs SCP-8006-2 gives him.

- If SCP-8006-2 is biting his arm, it's normal.

Injuries due to SCP-8006-2 consist of: SCP-8006-2 ripping Phylaxis' heart out and biting it, handing it back to him, sticking a needle into his arm and watching the heart regenerate; Ripping his p████ off and regenerating it, somehow grew back bigger?;

"Diagnoses" consist of: [REDACTED] disorder, originated from a place called “muai as hole”; Kill yourself disorder; Stupid coding man disorder; Schizophrenia; hallucinations; Possible Hole disorder; Work disorder; Blind disorder; I need to work bye in all capitals disorder; Good boy disorder, terminal; aindnfnngkfkkdkdk disorder; Coward; Working man disorder; Blue collared man disorder; I hate me too disorder; Blank; Shoplifting disorder; Stupid fucking bitch disorder;

NOTE: Withhold the drugs. oh my GOD WHY ARE YOU SO ADAMANT ON THAT IT WAS ONE TIME (lie)

ENTRY FOUR. OFFICER PALE;

Officer "Pale" ████, is one of the main agents keeping SCP-8006-2 in check.

- Pale is the one most physically hurt by SCP-8006-2.

Injuries due to SCP-8006-2 consist of: SCP-8006-2 ripped out his eye and ate it in front of his face; Foot was cut off without painkillers (not like it uses them anyway) and then regenerated; Was given “CPR” by SCP-8006-2 repeatedly stomping on his ribs, breaking them, and then a shot to fix everything, now has trouble breathing at times; Intestines tied into a bow during “surgery”;

"Diagnoses" consist of: [REDACTED] disorder, its contagious, still; “Every disorder in the book”

NOTES: Doctor Doctor is seriously gonna make me retire

I have no problems with the most dangerous SCPs, but when it comes to it I feel like I'm going to die

Phylaxis said I'll get used to it.

...Where the hell did it get that medical marijuana card anyway?

ENTRY FIVE. THAUMIEL; HARPY

Harpy is SCP-8006-2's so called "mortal enemy". SCP-8006-2 is visibly afraid of her.

Harpy by @cheesefri.

#[ ] LORE #[💉] DOCTOR DOCTOR #[🎨] OFFICER MURPHY #[🩸] OFFICER PHYLAXIS #[🧦] OFFICER PALE #[🪶] THAUMIEL HARPY

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myqueenmarceline · 5 months ago

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Watching and Waiting

Summary: Patrick sits next to Eli's hospital bed and waits for him to wake up.

Warnings: discussion of surgery/medical procedures and painkillers, but nothing is very explicit and it's mostly offscreen. This is generally a pretty fluffy/lighter piece.

Another Companion fic in two days? You know it XD Thank you to Viskas on ao3 for inspiring me to write this, and @nebula-gaster for beta reading

Read it on ao3 here or below the cut:

48: “Yep, perfectly clear”

7 letters.

Patrick looked at the blank column, then back at the clue.

With most of these crossword puzzles, if he didn’t have a good idea of what was going on, he could at least muster a guess. The word started with an “I”, but that didn’t help him at all. He could have changed his intelligence and solved it easily, but that defeated the point of doing a puzzle.

He sighed, lowering the puzzle book and looking around the room. With all of the advances modern technology offered, it was amazing that no one had bothered to learn how to design a nice hospital room. The cream walls seemed dingy, the space was so tight it was almost claustrophobic, and if Patrick had been human, the uncomfortable chair he was sitting in would have ruined his back after a few hours.

Luckily, in spite of his ability to still feel pain, his body could still be pushed further than a regular human’s could. As long as he had a portable charging plug, he didn’t need to leave.

Something shifted to his left. Patrick turned around so fast that he nearly fell out of his chair. He flailed for a moment, then held his breath as he stood up.

The bedsheets he’d meticulously tucked after the last nurse’s visit had been disturbed. As he watched, Eli shifted again, bunching the sheet on his right side slightly the same way he always had at home.

He stepped closer to the bed, doing his best to be as silent as possible. The numbers on the machines hooked up on the other side of the bed were completely steady, except for a rising pulse. It had jumped up to 80 beats per minute to 98, and for a moment, Patrick wondered if there was about to be a crash.

When he looked back, Eli’s eyes were open. He stared forward into nothing, his gaze unfocused. He tried to move again, but groaned in pain and went limp.

Patrick leaned over, getting in as close as possible without climbing over the bed. He wasn’t trained in CPR. How long would it take the nurses to respond to a call?

He carefully rested his hand on Eli’s chest. Maybe the touch would settle him enough to convince him not to move. He’d still be extremely sore, but everything would be better with a bit of extra pain management. Patrick reached over and pressed the call button once, then twice.

The heart monitor’s beeping sped up more. His heart felt like it was going to stop as he carefully rubbed Eli’s chest. Eli’s breathing was still fine, slow and shallow like it had been since he’d first come out of surgery.

“Hi.”

Patrick looked up, and found his partner staring at him. His pupils were dilated, and the big, sweet smile that always made Patrick’s heart skip a beat was plastered across his face. He tilted his head slightly, staring up at him like he was the only other human being in the world.

“Hey, you.” Patrick moved his hand off of Eli’s chest, gently running his fingers through Eli’s hair. It was greasy, but that didn’t matter right now. “How’re you feeling?”

Eli tilted his head, pressing into the touch as much as he could. “I love you.”

If words carried an electrical charge, those three alone would have been enough to power him for a month. “I love you too.”

“You’re so handsome,” Eli said, still staring intently at him. He’d always been a romantic, and apparently whatever was left of his last IV was bringing out the best in him.

“You're so sweet.” Patrick leaned in and kissed his forehead, then stood up properly. “I’m happy you’re back with me, baby.”

“I’m happy too.” Eli yawned, leaning back on the pillow and relaxing even more. “Yay, happy time.”

“It’s a very happy time. Are you feeling tired? It’s alright, just go to sleep. I’ll be here again when you wake up.” He certainly would; he’d spent the last three days waiting as Eli went in and out of surgery twice.

Eli mumbled something too quiet for his audio processors to hear, and closed his eyes. In less than 30 seconds, his pulse had already begun to slip back down.

Patrick kept staring at Eli’s face, thinking of his smile over and over. The more he thought about a memory, the better his photographic retention would be, and he wanted to keep this one forever.

When a nurse hustled in, Patrick finally turned away. He explained the situation and hovered near her, ready to jump in and help in any way possible. It was a miracle that his partner was alive, and he’d rather throw himself out of the closest window than do anything to jeopardize his recovery.

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defiblover27 · 1 year ago

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Runner Down

I have decided to try and get back into writing. I found this request from a while back that I decided to flesh out. A little bit different from some previous stuff. I hope you enjoy!

Caleb is a nineteen year old college student standing at five foot eight with blonde hair and blue eyes. Caleb always made sure to take care of his body and had a strict diet and exercise regimen. Since the weather was starting to warm up he decided to hit up a heavily wooded trail near school to go on a run. He parked in the lot and began his pre-run stretches. He was in shorts and running shoes and decided that since it was so nice outside that he would go on the run without a shirt. His fit and tone torso was already begining to sweat slightly due to the heat. The first half mile went well but Caleb forgot to drink enough water and developed a cramp in his left leg. He slowed down slightly in attempt to not put as much pressure on it but continued with the run. A short while later he was almost a mile into his three mile run when he developed a sharp pain in his left arm. The pain caused him to slow to a walk and attempt to catch his breath. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and found it hard to breathe. He began wheezing as he attempted to breathe but panic began to set in. He reached for his phone in his pocket but as he pulled it out he collapsed onto the ground. He landed face down in the dirt and felt himself losing consciousness. Before he could call for help he went unconscious as his heart rate slowed and he was wheezing face down in the dirt.. Due to the location there was no one around and it wasn't until almost three minutes later that another runner found Caleb in the middle of the path. The runner was 23 year old Amy who went to the same college and recognized Caleb from all the times they had passed on their runs. "Oh my god Caleb" Amy yelled as she rushed over to him. When she rolled him onto his back he was barely breathing. She reached for her phone and called 911. "I need an ambulance my friend is unconscious and barely breathing." she pleaded with the 911 operator. She gave the name of the path and an approximation of how far into the woods they were. The operator asked Amy to monitor Caleb. While she was doing so Caleb stopped breathing. The operator walked Amy through how to check for a pulse. "I... I don't feel anything" Amy said in a panic. The operator instructed her to start CPR and walked her through how to do it. She put the phone on speaker and followed each of the steps. She placed her small hands in-between his nipples and interlocked her fingers. She began to push down into her chest and had to give the full weight of her body to give the compressions. After giving thirty compressions she was instructed on how to give mouth to mouth. After giving the two breaths she went back to the compressions. She was instructed to continue this cycle until the ambulance arrived.

As Amy continued the CPR cycle, her mind raced with worry for Caleb's well-being. She could feel the urgency in the dispatcher's voice guiding her through the life-saving procedure. With each compression, she focused all her strength, willing Caleb's heart to respond. She knew that every second counted in this critical situation. Despite her fear and panic, Amy maintained her composure, determined to do everything in her power to keep Caleb alive until help arrived. With each breath, she hoped to see a sign of life returning to him. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as she performed the CPR, her heart pounding in sync with each compression. In the midst of the crisis, Amy's training as a lifeguard kicked in, guiding her actions with precision. She concentrated on the task at hand, shutting out the chaos around her as she followed the dispatcher's instructions to the letter. As she continued the compressions and rescue breaths, Amy couldn't help but think about Caleb's family and friends, wondering how they would react to this sudden turn of events. She silently prayed for his recovery, willing him to hold on and fight for his life. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the distant sound of sirens pierced the air, signaling the arrival of the ambulance. With a surge of relief, Amy redoubled her efforts, knowing that help was now just moments away. She kept up the CPR until the paramedics arrived, ready to take over.

As Caleb was rushed into the back of the ambulance, the paramedics wasted no time springing into action. With practiced efficiency, they swiftly assessed his condition, confirming that he was still in cardiac arrest. Without hesitation, they began the process of intubating him to secure his airway and ensure he received the oxygen he desperately needed. The ambulance interior was a whirlwind of activity as the paramedics worked tirelessly to stabilize Caleb's condition. Amidst the chaos, Amy stood by, feeling a mixture of anxiety and helplessness as she watched the medical team fight to save Caleb's life. With each passing moment, the urgency of the situation weighed heavily on everyone in the ambulance. The paramedics continued their efforts, administering medications, and performing chest compressions in a desperate bid to restart Caleb's heart. As the paramedics worked, they quickly and efficiently removed Caleb's clothing to better assess his condition and provide necessary medical interventions. Amy averted her gaze out of respect for Caleb's privacy, her heart aching for him and his loved ones as she prayed for a miracle. Despite their best efforts, the minutes ticked by with no sign of improvement in Caleb's condition. The paramedics remained focused and determined, refusing to give up on him even as the odds seemed stacked against them.

As the ambulance screeched to a halt outside the hospital, the paramedics wasted no time in rushing Caleb into the trauma room. The medical team waiting there sprang into action, seamlessly taking over CPR as they wheeled him through the doors. With a sense of urgency, the team worked in synchronized harmony, performing continuous chest compressions and delivering defibrillations in rapid succession. Despite their best efforts, Caleb's heart stubbornly refused to respond, remaining silent and still despite the onslaught of interventions. Time seemed to stand still as the medical team fought tirelessly to revive Caleb, their faces etched with determination and grim resolve. With each passing moment, the chances of success grew increasingly slim, but they refused to give up hope, clinging to the belief that miracles could still happen. Amy stood by, her heart heavy with fear and sorrow as she watched the chaotic scene unfold before her. She had done everything she could to help Caleb, but now it was out of her hands. All she could do was pray and hope for a miracle, willing Caleb to defy the odds and come back to life. As the minutes stretched into eternity, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Despite their heroic efforts, Caleb's condition continued to deteriorate, his chances of survival slipping away with each passing moment. As Amy stood on the sidelines, her heart heavy with grief, she watched as the medical team continued their relentless efforts to revive Caleb. Despite multiple rounds of defibrillation, Caleb's heart remained stubbornly silent, refusing to respond to the shocks. Each attempt seemed more desperate than the last, the tension in the room palpable as the medical team fought against the odds, refusing to give up on Caleb despite the grim reality of his condition. With each failed attempt, Amy's hope dwindled, replaced by a deepening sense of despair. She felt helpless, unable to do anything but watch as the life slowly slipped away from her friend. The sound of the defibrillator charging echoed through the room, a stark reminder of the high stakes and the dire situation they faced. With each shock, Amy held her breath, praying for a miracle that never came. As the minutes ticked by, the medical team's efforts became increasingly frantic, their faces etched with frustration and sorrow. Despite their expertise and determination, they were powerless to save Caleb from the grip of death. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the lead physician called a halt to the resuscitation efforts, his voice heavy with regret. The room fell silent as the reality of Caleb's passing sank in, a somber reminder of the fragility of life and the cruel randomness of fate. Amy felt a wave of grief wash over her as she struggled to come to terms with the loss of her friend. Tears welled up in her eyes as she mourned the life that had been cut short far too soon. In the aftermath of the failed resuscitation, Amy found herself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, sorrow, and disbelief warred within her as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

#cpr #resus #resuscitation #defib #defibrillator

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timeless-fanfic · 11 months ago

Text

Destined Paths, Chapter 1: The Prologue

Word Count: 1591

Andrew x Reader

I stood by my father’s grave, staring at the headstone with his name etched into the cold stone. The preacher’s words about God’s mercy and eternal life still echoed in my ears, but they felt hollow. I’d heard it all before—God’s plan, God’s love, God’s grace. But what good were those things when I was left here, fatherless, with nothing but a void where my heart used to be? My hand tightened around my mother’s, but I barely felt the connection. I was numb, an emptiness inside that nothing could fill.

I had grown up resentful, spiteful even. On the surface, I was the ideal child—polite, obedient, diligent. But inside, anger festered, simmering beneath the surface. I was envious of others, bitter about the life I’d been handed, and disillusioned with the God everyone around me seemed to revere. As I became an adult, I perfected my mask. On paper, I was a model Christian, but in truth, every prayer I uttered felt as empty as the space inside me.

The beeping of the monitor was steady, almost hypnotic. I focused on the rhythm as I carefully made the incision, the scalpel in my hand as precise as ever. This was routine—a simple surgery, one I’d performed countless times before. There was nothing unusual about it, no complications expected. The young girl on the table was only nine, and her family had been so relieved when I’d assured them it was a straightforward procedure.

But then, in an instant, everything went wrong.

The monitor’s beeping became erratic, the rhythm faltering. My heart skipped a beat as I looked up to see her heart rate plummeting. “She’s crashing!” a nurse shouted, and the room erupted into controlled chaos. My hands moved on autopilot, performing the necessary actions to stabilize her. But it was as if the very air around us had thickened, resisting every attempt to bring her back.

“No, no, no…” I whispered under my breath, trying desperately to maintain control. We did everything we could—CPR, epinephrine, defibrillation—but nothing worked. I felt like I was trying to grasp water, the situation slipping through my fingers despite my best efforts.

And then, just like that, the monitor flatlined. The room fell silent, the only sound the droning flatline that signaled the end. The girl was gone.

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen. This surgery should have been flawless. It was supposed to be easy, something I could almost do in my sleep. And yet, here she was—dead. A young life snuffed out on my operating table, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

Finally, I stepped back, my hands trembling as I removed my gloves. The weight of failure pressed down on me like a physical force. I muttered a few words to the team, though I couldn’t even remember what I said. I just knew I needed to get out of there, away from the lifeless body that should have been a simple success story.

I didn’t know how long I walked before I found myself in front of a bar. It was a place I knew well, a refuge on nights when the emptiness felt too much to bear. Tonight, though, the feeling was different. It wasn’t just emptiness—it was defeat. The kind of defeat that seeped into my bones and made me wonder if all the years I’d spent building this life were worth anything at all.

I was about to push the door open when I heard it. Church bells. Loud and clear, ringing from down the street. They were strange—out of place at this hour—but they cut through the fog in my mind like a knife. Something about the sound called to me, tugging at a part of me I hadn’t acknowledged in years. Against my better judgment, I turned and started walking towards the sound.

The church was old, the kind that had probably been standing for a century or more. The doors creaked as I pushed them open, revealing an empty, dimly lit interior. The smell of old wood and incense filled the air, a stark contrast to the antiseptic scent of the operating room. I hadn’t stepped inside a church in years, not for anything other than a wedding or a funeral. But tonight, something had drawn me here, and I couldn’t walk away.

I sat down in a pew near the back, my head bowed as I tried to make sense of what had happened today. How had something so routine turned into a tragedy? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. The more I tried to think, the more my thoughts spiraled into confusion and despair.

“Are you alright?” The voice was gentle, coming from beside me. I looked up to see a priest, his kind eyes studying me with concern. He had probably been drawn by the sound of the door or maybe the look on my face. I hadn’t noticed him approach.

“I’m not Catholic,” I said automatically, my voice rough from hours of silence.

He smiled, a small, understanding smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “God didn’t call you here to debate Protestantism.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard by the unexpected response. “God… didn’t call me here at all,” I muttered, though the words felt hollow even as I said them.

He sat down beside me, close but not too close, giving me space. “Would you like to tell me what brought you here tonight?”

I hesitated, my gaze dropping to the floor. I could still hear the flatline in my head, see the lifeless body of that little girl on my operating table. “I lost a patient today. A young girl. It should have been a routine surgery. I don’t understand how it went wrong. I did everything right.”

The priest didn’t say anything at first. He just sat there, listening, giving me the time and space to speak. Finally, when I couldn’t hold back anymore, I let the words spill out. “I’m supposed to be the best. I’ve dedicated my life to helping people, to saving lives. But today… I failed. And I don’t know why. I don’t know how to make sense of it.”

“Sometimes,” the priest began softly, “we do everything right, and things still go wrong. It’s one of the hardest truths we have to accept in life—that we are not always in control, no matter how much we might want to be.”

His words cut deep, striking at the core of the frustration and despair I felt. “So what then? Are we just supposed to accept that some things are out of our hands? That no matter how hard we try, it might not be enough?”

He nodded, his expression somber. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying, or that our efforts are meaningless. It just means we have to find peace with the fact that we are human, and our power is limited.”

I stared at the empty altar, the candles flickering softly in the distance. Peace? How was I supposed to find peace when a child had died because of me?

“You’re carrying a heavy burden,” the priest said quietly. “But you don’t have to carry it alone.”

I almost laughed at that, a bitter sound. “What, am I supposed to give it to God? Because honestly, I don’t think He’s been paying much attention to me.”

The priest didn’t flinch at my sarcasm. “Maybe you haven’t been paying attention to Him, either.”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in a long time—compassion, understanding, without judgment. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice softer, almost afraid of the answer.

“Sometimes, we build walls around our hearts to protect ourselves from pain, from disappointment. But those walls also keep out the things that can heal us—love, grace, faith. Maybe God has been reaching out to you, but you’ve been too guarded to notice.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Part of me wanted to dismiss it as wishful thinking, but another part—the part that had brought me into this church in the first place—wondered if there was truth in his words.

Before I could respond, the priest stood up, his robes rustling softly in the silence. “This church is always open,” he said gently. “You’re welcome here anytime, whether you want to talk or just sit in silence. God is patient, and so am I.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the quiet sanctuary. I sat there for a long time, the weight of the day pressing down on me, the priest’s words echoing in my mind.

When I finally stood to leave, I felt different—still defeated, still burdened, but with a faint flicker of something I hadn’t felt in years. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was just the beginning of a new kind of search.

I didn’t know where this path would lead me, but as I stepped out of the church and into the night, I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going to find the answers in a bottle of whiskey.

No, whatever I was looking for, it was something far deeper, something that had brought me to a place I never expected to be. And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly where I needed to start.

#andrew x reader #the chosen fanfiction #the chosen x reader

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