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"Sometimes the so-called experts are wrong, or lazy, or arrogant.
Sometimes you have to use your common sense and scream what's right
from the rooftop. This compelling book reveals one case history...and
a strong young woman who did scream."
Tom Basinski, Author:
“No Good Deed”
“Cross Country Evil”
www.tombasinski.com |
Lisa discovers Curtis’ ventilator is defective and reports the malfunction. As
time passes Lisa’s calls to the nurses’ station escalate as Curtis’ condition
deteriorates. Ultimately the machine cuts-off Curtis’ supply of oxygen. The only
function working on the ventilator is the alarm…
EXCERPT:
It’s been over a minute. That’s a long time to go without breathing. This thing
is honking and quacking like it is desperate for somebody to come running. Yea,
you and me both, buddy. I keep holding Curtis’ hand and calmly, slowly telling
him to look at me, to breathe with me. Well, he isn’t taking his eyes off me and
his is gripping my hand. He has that familiar wild-eyed, frantic look on his
face. He can’t breathe. I know it, and a state-of-the-art machine is telling us
so. It is letting everybody in the world know, as it is designed to do.
One minute, fifteen seconds—he is starting to turn blue. His oxygen saturation
drops to the low eighties. I don’t want to see seventy percent. I drop his hand
and run to the door, still calmly and slowly telling him to take slow, deep
breaths. I open the “never-open-this-door” door, look right at Dr. Beverly Hills
at the nurses’ station, and desperately cry out, “He can’t breathe!”
Curtis’ nurse is passing the nurses’ station, on her way to the room next door
with her arms full of supplies. Dr. Beverly Hills stands up and looks at her.
She never stops moving but says, “I paged Respiratory. Whaddya want me to do?”
She disappears into the other patient’s room. Dr. Beverly Hills doesn’t move.
I go back to Curtis. I am not going to let him die while I am bickering with
these hateful people. I hold his hand and try to keep him focused. He is
panicked, wild-eyed and turning blue. He’s suffocating, and there’s not a damned
thing I can do. It’s difficult to describe the range of emotions I’m
feeling—helpless to do anything to save him, terrified that he’s going to die
any second, furious that nobody is coming to help. I can get a Big Mac at
McDonald’s faster than I can get oxygen in a world-class hospital.
Copyright © Lisa Lindell
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