The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the crackle of a radio. Two paramedics, both women in their thirties, entered the room with swift, practiced movements. One was tall and dark-haired, carrying the defibrillator, while the other, a shorter blonde, already had her stethoscope ready.
As they approached the bed, the taller paramedic scanned the room quickly, her eyes catching on a few scattered belongings near the bed—a purse with an ID card poking out. She quickly grabbed it, reading aloud, “Anna Johnson. Trente-deux ans.”
Clara, the blonde paramedic, gave a quick nod. “D’accord, Anna. On est là pour toi,” she murmured as she leaned over Anna and checked for a pulse. Her face tensed. “Pas de pouls. Elle ne respire pas.”
“Elle est magnifique,” her partner said softly, glancing at Anna’s face. “Regarde ses traits. C’est incroyable qu’elle se trouve dans cette situation.”
“Je sais,” Clara replied, shaking her head slightly as she focused back on her task. “C’est tellement triste. Mais nous devons nous concentrer.”
Clara positioned herself by Anna’s side and immediately began compressions. “On dirait une crise cardiaque. Elle est jeune pour ça, mais… les symptômes correspondent.”
“Oui, c’est possible,” her partner agreed, setting up the defibrillator. “Charge à cent quatre-vingts joules.”
Before applying the defibrillator, the taller paramedic carefully removed the towel covering Anna’s body, ensuring to keep the atmosphere professional. She quickly placed electrodes on Anna’s chest, securing them firmly in place. “Prépare les électrodes,” she instructed, making sure everything was set for the shock.
Clara’s hands moved in steady, deep compressions as she counted softly, her voice a mixture of determination and encouragement. “Allez, Anna, tiens bon. Reste avec nous.”
Once the defibrillator was ready, the taller paramedic signaled her to clear. “Recule-toi, Clara.”
Clara moved aside, her gaze fixed on Anna’s still form as her partner administered the shock. Anna’s body jolted, her chest arching slightly, but there was no immediate response. Clara glanced at her partner, worry creasing her brow.
“Rien,” she murmured, shoulders tense.
“Encore. Augmente à deux cents,” her partner replied, adjusting the charge.
Clara resumed compressions, her face set in concentration. “Anna, écoute-moi. Ne nous lâche pas maintenant.” Her voice softened, almost pleading, as she coaxed Anna back.
They repeated the process, carefully timing the compressions and shocks. After another jolt, Clara paused, her fingers pressed to Anna’s neck.
“Regarde,” she said, relief flickering in her tone. “Je sens un pouls.”
Her partner nodded, her expression softening. “On l’a ramenée. Stabilise-la pour le transport.”
Clara gently secured the oxygen mask over Anna’s face as her partner prepared the IV. They worked seamlessly, their voices a steady hum of French as they stabilized Anna for transport, ensuring everything was in place to keep her steady on the journey to the hospital.
Thank you so much, i really like it ! Very goog french by the way 😉
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
titsay
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
