stories from the heart

resus stories from my brain with a lesbian focus. sorry if some of the terminology is incorrect/unrealistic, I don’t work in the medical field

[fullheartstories]

I was so excited to finally have my first official date with her. We had been friends since college but had drifted to different cities and careers before both eventually settling in NYC. I was new-ishly single and had finally gathered the courage to ask her out. She was dealing with some family issues and was excited to get out and forget about her problems for a bit.

We met at a cocktail bar in my neighborhood in Brooklyn. She looked beautiful, wearing a white sweater and jeans, makeup done beautifully. She was femme but not overly so. Simple and elegant. Not awkward. Not like me. Maybe it was her personality, maybe it was the age gap (with her being 7 years my senior), maybe it was the fact that she knew she had a lot to offer. Smart, funny, caring, independent. I wanted to be with her and I wanted to be like her.

We chatted for a few hours over cocktails and snacks. I confessed to her that I had this crush on her for years. She blushed. Her cheeks were rosy for the rest of the evening. She kept complaining she was warm and took off her sweater, spending the rest of our chilly November date in a low V-neck tshirt. I tried to not look at her chest but it was so inviting. Just enough cleavage to pique my interest. Her arms and face were warm to the touch.

The bar filled as the night went on and it became hard to hear, so I invited her back to my place a few blocks away. I hadn’t planned on this but I also emergency cleaned beforehand just in case. I awkwardly asked to hold her hand as we walked, and slowly we made it back to my place. I noticed her getting seemingly winded talking as we walked, but assumed she was tired and a little drunk.

She paused quite often to catch her breath on the four flight walk up to my place. I stayed slow with her, but was getting concerned. Was she ill? Did she have asthma?

We made it into my apartment and she immediately collapsed in a chair. I rushed to bring her some water and she breathlessly heaved, “I’m sorry.....it took me....so long....to get up here....I don’t know....what’s going on....”. I patted her on the back and she took the water.

“hey, it’s ok,” I said. “take your time and catch your breath. are you sick?”

“No....” she said. “I just feel really out of breath and I feel like something is sitting on my chest.”

I helped her up and moved her to the bed, propping her up with pillows. “Let’s get you comfortable and see if helps,” I said. “Just try to relax. I’m here for you.”

She took a few deeper breaths. “Thank you”

I sat with her and her breathing seemed to return to normal. I squeezed her hand. She breathed deeply and grimaced in pain, throwing her head back as she moaned and gasped again for air.

“Oh my god!” I shouted, releasing her hand from my grip and grabbing her shoulders to try and hold her still and comfort her.

“I....can’t..breathe” she stuttered between gasps, her chest heaving.

I immediately lept to the other side of the apartment to grab my phone from my bag and call 911. A dispatcher picked up right away and I was back at her side rubbing her shoulder trying to keep her alert and comforted.

The dispatcher asked me questions about her medical history that I had no idea how to answer before instructing me to try and get her on a flat and solid surface in case she needed CPR before the ambulance arrived. I didn’t want to hurt her. While I’m strong I know I’m not strong enough to pick up another woman of my same stature. I noticed tears running down her face as I leaned in to try and get her up off the bed and onto the floor. I felt myself breaking down as I held her for that brief time.

“Hang in there, please..” I pleaded.

She was able to support her own weight getting off the bed and I gently lowered here to the ground. Her eyes were distant, she was gasping. The dispatcher told me to try and keep her alert by putting a little pressure on her sternum so I did, trying to reassure her the whole time that help was on the way and to please stay with me. After a few minutes though the gasping stopped.

I pressed my ear to her chest to try and hear if her heart was beating before tilting her head back, pinching her nose and giving her two breaths. I felt for a pulse in her neck and felt nothing so I got up on my knees and locked my hands in the center of her chest to give her compressions.

“Come on come on come on,” I whispered as I pushed down, losing count. The dispatcher recommended doing 30 and then 2 more breaths, and I repeated that cycle 5 times before the paramedics arrived. Her body was lifeless, shaking gently with each thrust. I didn’t want to hurt her but I didn’t know what else to do with her.

Once the medics arrived they immediately got down on the floor with her, cutting open her shirt and attaching her to an EKG as well as getting her intubated. A paramedic immediately began chest compressions while an IV was started. She went into VFib as a result of the injection into the IV and received her first shock, which jolted her upper body up off the floor ever so slightly, her breasts jiggling and head falling to the side. The EKG whined and compressions resumed again. More drugs, more minutes, another defib. Still no pulse. She wasn’t responding. It had been 5 minutes but it felt like an eternity.

They pushed drugs a third time to get a shockable rhythm. The vigorous compressions stopped after the pads charged to 360 and she was hit again. The shock left her still in VFib, so it was immediately followed with another. The monitor whined briefly after the electricity ran its course and then began to register a faint beeping. I watched her stomach rise and fall from the air supplied by the ambu bag.

“We have a pulse, let’s get her loaded up,” one of the medics announced

[fullheartstories]

I think there might be something to be said about near death experiences.

I remember sensationalized television, particularly in the 90s and early 2000s, that interviewed people, usually crazy religious people, who had apparently died and come back “by the grace of god”. They watched their souls leave their body as it failed and then returned once it was safe.

I, an atheist, can tell you that I’ve seen the other side and it is a painful, terrifying place that makes you..literally wanna die.

I am a single woman, not married, no kids, no boyfriend, no hope. My siblings are paired off and have families. I spend my time when I’m not working drinking with my best friend Amelia who is a similar hopeless case. We understand each other in a way that goes beyond your typical friendship. She is not my girlfriend but I love her more than anyone else in this world. In fact most days I wish I was attracted to women so that we could just be together and get it over with. She knows this, it’s not a secret. Amelia is a bit of a romantic and calls us “platonic soulmates”, that we’re “meant to be” best friends, but I just chalk our relationship up to the fact that we met 15 years ago at a bar tending job and haven’t left each other alone since.

I was born with a congenital heart condition that was more or less manageable...until my 30s. My meds were adjusted and tests were run when I hit 33 and things were cool for a few years. The November after I turned 36 though, I had my first real episode. I was at home watching TV and I felt like something was stabbing me in the chest. I started sweating profusely, my stomach hurt, I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt so weak in body but my awareness of what was happening around me felt heightened. I knew that I had a blockage near my heart and that the blockage was causing an abnormal heart rhythm. I could feel it, that stabbing feeling was the sharp, fast, jagged beats of it trying to regulate itself.

I couldn’t even sit up, my torso folded over into my lap while I rummaged on the the table for my phone. I knew I couldn’t stay on the phone with 911 so instead I called Amelia who I knew was at work 5 blocks away. I never call, only text, so she knew it was serious. When she picked up all I could muster was a breathy and pained “help, I need you”. I couldn’t even end the call, I was too overcome with pain. I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I could hear the comforting sound of her voice, now breathless as she was running down the stairs and out of the building to get me.

“Stay on the phone with me, Sandra, I’m running to your apartment now. If you’re somewhere else I need to you tell me. Are you there? I’m not hanging up. I don’t know what’s going on but I need you to talk to me if you can. Can you talk to me? I’m running as fast as I can. Please let me know if you can hear me, hang in there please....”

I could hear her. I couldn’t answer her. The stabbing feeling in my chest had only gotten more severe. I couldn’t move.

I heard the key to the front door turn and within seconds I heard Amelia gasp, “Oh my god, Sandra”, gently pulling me upright before realizing I was unconscious. She immediately felt for a pulse in my neck. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god ok,” she panicked, lowering me gently to the floor and laying me flat on my back. She got 911 on the phone immediately and I could make out what she was saying through tears.

“My friend collapsed, she has a known heart condition, I think her heart stopped but I don’t know, I don’t think she’s breathing,” and then she went silent, pressing her ear to my chest. I could feel her tears deep through my shirt. “Oh my god, please,” she whispered as she listened. “I don’t hear anything! She’s not moving, her stomach’s not moving!” She exclaimed to the dispatcher, pressing her two fingers into my neck to feel for a pulse.

The sound coming from the phone was muffled. I felt the pressure of her hands interlocking in the center of my chest, followed by vigorous and forceful CPR. The compressions were painful. I could hear her crying and gently pleading with me to come back with nearly every thrust. In that moment I felt a sense of guilt. It was unfair of me to burden this sweet and wonderful woman with the task of having to see her best friend die...and then to have to give her CPR. But at the same time, I had an instinct that kicked in that said to let her find me rather than the paramedics. I was pretty sure I was just dead at that point and I felt bad for going out on such a bad note. I knew that if something happened to me, and she were nearby, which she was, that she would be heartbroken if she thought she could’ve done something but wasn’t given the chance to. Plus I know Amelia. I knew she’d beat the ambulance.

“Stay with me sweet girl, please stay with me..” she pleaded as she continued CPR. “I don’t know what’s fucking taking them so long. Come on, come back.”

I heard footsteps rushing toward me and commotion of clanging equipment as the paramedics took over working on me for Amelia. I was relieved but I worried for her. I hoped they whisked her away so that she didn’t have to watch me dying on the floor.

I felt the cool air hit my skin as they cut my shirt off, and the stickiness of the electrodes they attached to my bare chest. They tilted my head back and shoved a tube down my throat while the EKG analyzed. Someone said something about VFib and I received my first shock. I don’t know anything about being electrocuted or struck by lightening but I would imagine it feels a lot like being defibrillated. Every muscle in my body tensed up from the electricity and my head, hands, feet, and breasts shook involuntarily afterward. The air that was being forced into my lungs burned and as soon as I thought it was over the cold paddles were pressed into my chest again. The pain was unbearable. I’d say I’d rather die than feel that again but technically I was dead and that is what they were doing to try and save me. I heard a high pitched squeal and then felt the familiar caving in of my chest under the pressure of the CPR. I heard things like “we don’t know how long she’s been down, let’s keep trying” and I wondered what would happen if they gave up. At least I wouldn’t be in pain anymore.

The compressions mercifully stopped but I knew what was next. The third shock hit harder than the previous shocks, arching back before slamming my body back down on the ground. More whine. More compressions.

Someone said “we got VFib, let’s hit her again” after what felt like another eternity of CPR and I was defibbed a 4th time. This one also felt like it lifted half of my body off the ground and created an earthquake for all of my mushy bits. If you were wondering if having DD boobs cushions the blow of the electricity hitting you, they do not.

I heard a different blip coming from the monitor this time before something was pulled over my body, up to my shoulders. Next thing I knew I was in the air and moving. I felt them lift me into the back of the ambulance. I was happy to feel the steady and cold drip of drugs into my arm and the cold stethoscope was a relief on my battered chest.

I could hear the medics talking to each other, some numbers I couldn’t distinguish were being thrown around. I couldn’t tell if they were talking to me at any point or just about me, but I felt strangely comforted and safe. As soon as I felt this slight relief, the stabbing pain in my chest returned and that feeling vanished. An abrupt coldness hit my chest prior to the cold gel and metal of the paddles that jerked my chest into the air a fifth time. After the jolt there was a period of stillness. I was still feeling the pain from the previous shock when the cold metal made contact with my skin again. Six shocks. After this one, the pain subsided but the relief was met once again with the force of a man’s large hands interlocked between my breasts, desperately trying to restart my heart. I heard him yelling frantically at the driver and the driver yelling back that we were almost to the ER.

I felt like I was floating as my chest was forced to cave in over and over again. There was a warmness with some pressure on my hips as if the medic was strattling the stretcher keeping CPR going as they wheeled me in to the ER. I heard concerned shouting, more numbers, and finally the floating and painful compressions stopped, then immediately started again. I felt more hands on my body now, all over my arms and face and chest. More cold liquids into my arm, more air burning down my throat as it’s forced into my lungs. I didn’t want to feel this anymore.

The compressions stopped and the cold metal paddles were placed on my chest again, my chest jerked into the air and slammed back onto the gurney. More shouting, more eerie whine from the EKG, more compressions. Compressions stopped and started again, more forceful this time, presumably another person giving them. More drugs into the IV. Another shock. I think this was the eighth? More compressions. I heard more numbers. Compressions slowed, then stopped. I wondered if this was it, if it was finally over and what would happen if it was the end. I felt more cool liquid shooting into my veins, followed by that familiar stabbing pain. Compressions resumed, then stopped. Paddles on my chest again, I jolted into the air for the ninth time, immediately followed by a 10th.

I felt relief. I heard the ekg beeping. I felt more hands on my chest, including someone vigorously rubbing where the compressions had been but it finally wasn’t painful. Lots of indistinct conversation, I could only make out words like “stabilize” and “vitals”. And that’s where it went dark.

I found out later that I was put into a drug induced coma in the ICU to allow my heart to heal and prevent any brain damage. I suppose it worked since I remember everything so vividly, even though I coded twice again while in the coma. I was out for 5 days, and for the first 3 they didn’t think I was gonna make it. I had been clinically dead for almost 30 minutes. When I finally came to in the ICU, I didn’t know all this had happened yet. I thought I was still in my apartment having chest pain, calling out for Amelia. The nurse heard my muffled cries and immediately rushed to my side, trying to console me but all I wanted was my best friend. The nurse, bless her heart, I think she understood what I wanted.

She left and when she came back she brought Amelia, who stopped dead in the doorway when she saw that my eyes were open. She rushed to my side and grabbed my hand and arms before looking to the nurse for approval to lay her head on my chest and throw her arms around me. We laid like that, with her softly crying and contently listening to the sound of my heart beating, until visiting hours were over and the orderlies pulled her away.

[fullheartstories]

It was a slow afternoon in the ER, thankfully. I had seen some stuff the past few days, mostly people making stupid decisions, but often with bloody consequences. A call from the paramedics came in to the ER stating that they were en route with a woman having a cardiac episode. I prepped my code team and prepared the trauma bay for the worst. The women hadn’t arrested at that point, but attempts at cardioversion had been unsuccessful thus far.

Minutes later, paramedics wheeled in a dark haired woman, her shirt and bra cut open, electrodes and AED pads on her bare chest, large oxygen mask on her face.

The lead medic briefed us.

“40 year old woman, coworker saw her collapse, ventricular tachycardia present. Synchronized cardioversion attempted on site up to 100 joules, unsynchronized attempted 3 times in the bus, unsuccessfully. BP bottomed out, pulse ox is low”

“Let’s get her moved,” I began and the team transferred her. “Get a 12 lead and get her intubated, let’s run some labs and prepare to try and cardiovert her again.”

One of my team nurses removed the mask from her face. All the color drained from my body. Her face. Her beautiful face. I knew that face. I had seen that beautiful face before.......... the night I met her flashed before my eyes instantly.

.

.

.

Being a lesbian in rural Wyoming has its challenges, the shortage of....people.....being one. Working odd hours as an ER physician and never having time to do more for myself than put my hair in a ponytail and slapping on some moisturizer and chapstick doesn’t help either.

On a night off a few months ago, I went to the bar in the town adjacent to my hospital. That’s where I met Alita. I was sitting at the bar, my plain self, trying to drink a beer and forget about the horrors I had seen that week. She breathed a sigh of relief as she sat next to me.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she began, nervously, her dark curls falling into her eyes as she whispered, “There is a gross trucker over there who won’t take no for an answer. I hope you don’t mind me coming over here by you, I lied and told him you were my friend and we were having a girls night.....My name’s Alita by the way.” And she reached out to shake my hand discreetly under the bar. She was beautiful. Light olive complexion with full, peachy cheeks and big brown eyes.

“Alita, huh?” I whispered back. “I’m Amber. It’s nice to see you.”

We smiled at each other and I went back to my beer. “Can I get you something?”

“I was going to offer to you since I interrupted your night,” she laughed.

“I’d love another Bud if you’re buying,” I conceded. “This one’s almost gone.”

She got us each a beer and began telling me about her life. She was raised in Italy by an American mother and Italian father but had been living in the US as an adult, brought to the shit hole that is the state of Wyoming by the university to teach classic Italian literature. We compare notes on our respective jobs. Our horrors were different. She got us another round of beers. I stared intently at her when she wasn’t watching.

“Do you have a boyfriend or a husband or a dog or anything?” She asked

“My job doesn’t allow me to have a schedule that would be fair to a dog,” I laughed. “And I’m actually a lesbian.”

Alita audibly gasped. “Oh wow. I bet that’s hard here.”

I nodded. “What about you? Any boyfriends....girlfriends.....animals...”

“My ex boyfriend was an animal,” she laughed before taking a big swig of beer. She paused. “I actually dated a girl for a little while before I was transferred here, when I was at American University in DC.”

My ears perked up.

“It was very casual,” she continued. “but I still think about her a lot. I am afraid I hurt her. I had never....done anything with a girl before and I don’t think I was ready. I liked her but I don’t know if I was truly attracted to her like in a sexual way.”

I swallowed hard. I took another sip of my beer.

She smiled at me and patted my hand.

“I have to prepare my lecture for tomorrow,” she groaned, “but it was really nice to spend time with you.”

I smiled shyly. “Let me walk you to your car”

And I walked her past the creepy truck driver who gave her a hard time out to the parking lot. I wanted to ask her out. I wanted to grab her around her waist and kiss her neck. I wanted to take her back to my place and fuck her senseless. But I didn’t.

We made it to her car. She smiled at me and reached in to hug me and kiss me on the cheek. I reciprocated. And she left. I didn’t get her number, or her last name. And it wasn’t anything but friendly, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

.

.

.

Now here she is, dying on the table in my ER. How did this happen?

The team cut the rest of her clothes away, covering her to the belly button with a white sheet. The 12 lead was printing out and she had been intubated. A BPcuff and pulse oxomoter were in place. Her heart was pounding rapidly and erratically in her chest. She lay unconscious, naked, helpless, and almost dead. And it was my job to save her.

I immediately called for 200 joules on the defibrillator and grabbed the paddles. I placed them on her chest and pressed released the energy. “Clear!” She twitched slightly. Her heart rate continued to skip across the monitor even faster. The team pushed drugs into her IV and I called for the paddles to be charged again at 300. Paddles in place, I shouted “Clear!” and shocked her again. The monitor slowed. For a moment she had a stable pulse. I felt her neck and got ready to put my stethoscope to her chest when the eerie whine of asystole echoed in my ear drums.

“She’s flatline!” I frantically called out, positioning myself to immediately begin chest compressions. I interlocked my fingers and forcefully began trying manually to get a pulse on her, rapidly compressing her chest while a member of my team kept count on the time. 30 seconds passed, 1 minute, 1 minute 30 seconds. Drugs pushed. I continued.

“Come on...” I said quietly as a began the next round, looking down at her face, feeling the softness of her breasts slightly under my bottom hand. Her petite body shook with every compression. I knew I had probably already broken a rib.

“5 minutes,” the time keeper reminded me.

“You need to take a break,” one of the nurses said, stepping in and pushing me aside to continue CPR.

I stepped back and watched her lifeless chest shake from the aggressive compressions. I could barely form words. “More drugs,” I stuttered. “Push epi and see if we can get something to shock.”

Drugs were forced into her IV while compressions continued relentlessly. I watched the monitor. “Hold CPR,” I managed, calmly. I watched the monitor. “VFib! Charge to 360.”

The paddles were charged and one of the nurses grabbed them. “Stop compressions,” she said, putting the paddles on Alita’s chest. “Clear!”

Her whole body jerked slightly, head tilting to the side. Every eye in the room watched the rapid spikes on the monitor flatten out to fine VFib.

“Hit her again!” I shouted.

“Charging paddles to 360,” the nurse said. The machine whined and she prepared to shock Alita a second time. “Clear!”

Asystole.

“Starting CPR at 7 minutes,” the timekeeper called out as another nurse began vigorously pounding on Alita’s chest again.

I watched her body shake under the force

of the resuscitation efforts. The lead medic was still present in the room.

“Do you know what happened?” I asked him, my voice soft and almost unrecognizable to myself

“Coworker at the university said she was fine and then she just dropped without a word or symptoms like saying she had chest pain,” he replied. “She was semi-conscious when we arrived, still breathing...” his voice trailed off

“8 minutes 30 seconds,” the timekeeper announced

“Push another round of drugs and hold CPR, let’s get a look at the monitor,” I called out, wearily, but enough to get the team’s attention. Fine VFib displayed, weak, but enough to shock.

“Let’s shock her again, charging paddles to 360,” and I grabbed the charged paddles to position on her chest as CPR continued. “Everybody off. Clear!”

I watched her body jerk slightly up off the gurney, her breasts shaking as her back hit the mattress again. The monitor still showed fine VFib. I immediately placed the paddles back on the dock to charge again while a swift round of compressions was administered.

“Everybody off,” I announced again. “Clear!”

I was losing track of how many times she had been defibbed. The whine of asystole returned briefly before reverting yet again to VFib and yet another shock. She had been down for 12 minutes. The center of her chest was bruised from the compressions, her right breast sticky from the conductive gel for the defibrillator.

I watched the line on the monitor squiggle violently on the screen for a few moments after the shock before flattening out again. Back on top of her, I positioned myself again, slamming the heel of my hand into her sternum as hard and as fast as I could.

“Come.....on.....Alita......please,” I whispered breathlessly as I pounded on her chest. I looked down at her face. “Come on......please come back”

I called for another round of drugs at 13 minutes and the team shook their heads. “I said now! One more round of epi!”

The drugs were pushed into her IV as I continued CPR. At 14 minutes, VFib showed on the monitor.

“Let’s get ready to shock her again, charge to 360!” I shouted. I grabbed the paddles and positioned them on her chest. “Clear!” The room was still and silent as we waited for something to register on the monitor. When it did, it still showed VFib.

“Goddamn it, charge again!” I yelled exasperated

One of the nurses chimed in, “its been 15 minutes...”

“She’s not flatline, I’m not giving up,” I snapped, placing the paddles back on Alita’s chest. “Clear!” And I discharged the energy into her body. Stillness. Quiet. “Come on come on come on,” I mumbled under my breath waiting for the rhythm to register. It started beeping. She had a pulse.

I couldn’t believe it. I grabbed my stethoscope to listen with my own ears, pressing the bell into various points on her chest. She wasn’t out of the woods but she had a pulse.

The team worked quickly to try and stabilize her. I gently caressed the side of her face. “Welcome back Alita,” I whispered

[fullheartstories]

I couldn’t believe it when I got the call.

Through tears, she whimpered “I don’t know what’s happening.....my chest started hurting...” her voice trailed off. I comforted her as best I could, asking her for the details of the hospital she was at. “I’m so scared,” she continued, “please hurry.”

When I arrived, I went through four different clerks regarding her condition and location in the ER. I was listed as an emergency contact, but we’re not related. Our relationship is...complicated. Regardless, she loves me and I love her. She looks to me to keep her best interests in mind and advocate for her if she can’t do it for herself.

A nurse overheard me mention her name to the clerk and overruled the clerk’s hesitation. “You’re Amy?” she half shouted. “Stacy’s been asking for you.” And with that the nurse whisked me away through the sea of white curtains.

“Your friend Stacy is in a lot of pain, she presented to the ER with serious heart palpitations,” the nurse began. “We have been working to stabilize her and keep her heart rate in normal range as best we can without actually stopping her heart. We don’t know what is causing the episodes of extremely rapid heart rate but she is awake and you can see her.”

The nurse pulled back the curtain and Stacy was half propped up in the bed, wires coming from under the white sheet she was covered with up to her shoulders. She smiled gently and breathlessly exclaimed “Amy!” and winced slightly in pain.

I rushed over to hug her. The nurse cautioned me to be very gentle with her so I draped my arm over her shoulders, squeezed her hand, and rested my head on hers for a few moments. “I’m here, sweet girl”, I said. “What happened?”

Stacy took a few shallow breaths. “I was at home going through some paperwork and..” she caught her breath, “I thought I was just stressed out..” she squeezed my hand harder to work through the pain. I watched her heart rate spike on the monitor beside her bed. “But it didn’t stop. I tried to lie down and nap, but it didn’t stop.” I rubbed her shoulder for support. She continued: “I have had chest pain as a side effect of my medication before so I called my doctor..” she winced again, squeezing my hand harder, “...and I wasn’t in as much pain as I am now...but she told me to go to the ER immediately”

The nurse interjected, “she was showing pretty clear signs of cardiac distress so we got her on a monitor right away.” And then she took Stacy’s other hand. “I’m sorry you’re in so much pain still, ma’am, we’re just waiting for some test results to come back before we can know what to do to best help you.”

A large, stern, female doctor pulled back the curtain carrying a clipboard with a printout of an ECG and some lab results. She pulled the nurse aside and conversed with her quietly while I held my friend’s hand, stroking her long, dark hair out of her face. I didn’t know what to say to Stacy so I listened as closely as I could to the doctor instead.

“The results are inconclusive, but we can’t not treat the arrhythmia. My suggestion is synchronized electrical cardioveraion ASAP. Get a crash cart and code team in here now since we don’t know what we’re dealing with”

My heart sank. I squeezed Stacy’s hand and admired her soft features. I had been with her through thick and thin, health wise. I’d seen her in bad shape.

Seconds later, a cart with a defibrillator and other life saving equipment was wheeled in by a team of nurses in matching scrubs. The stern doctor from before followed.

“Hi Stacy,” she said, approaching her bed. “I know you’re in a lot of pain and I wish I had better news for you, but I think it’s going to get worse before it gets better, ok?”

Stacy moaned in pain and breathlessly asked, “what’s happening to me?”

“Ma’am, your heart is beating way too fast and irregularly so we’re going to try to slow it down with an electrical current, ok? Have you ever had cardioversion before? Do you know what that is?”

Stacy moaned as the monitor registered even faster.

“Let’s prepare her for the first shock,” the doctor ordered. One of the team of nurses pulled the sheet down, exposing her bare chest, covered in electrodes and another placed an orange gel pad below her right shoulder and another just under her left breast.

“Let’s get her oxygen up, get a mask on her. Charge to 50.”

A large oxygen mask was placed over her mouth and nose.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure you’re going to want to be in here for this,” the head nurse said to me.

Stacy turned her head in my direction and reached out for me. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Ma’am! You need to not touch her!” and with that the nurse grabbed me by the arm and led me just outside the curtained area.

“I know you want to be there for her, but we need to have room to work on her.”

I nodded. There was a small parting in the curtains that allowed me to see what was going on.

I watched the doctor pick up the charged defib paddles and place them on Stacy’s chest, watching the heart monitor intently for the right moment to expel the charge.

“Everyone stand back,” she announced, waiting a few more seconds. The team of nurses scattered from around the bed. “Clear”

And I heard a guttural, muffled, familiar scream come from under the oxygen mask. One of the nurses rushed to comfort her while the rest watched the beeping on the monitor, which had slowed momentarily but was as erratic as it was before.

“Let’s try again at 100 this time,” the doctor called out, grabbing the paddles from the cart. “Everybody off.”

She put the paddles into position again, watching the monitor, mumbling something inaudible before announcing “Clear!” and shocking her again.

Stacy screamed louder this time, with the end of the shout sounding like it was choked off. The beeping of the heart monitor became faster and alarms started going off.

“She’s in v-fib, charge to 200!”

“Everybody off, clear!”

And I watched as her now unconscious body was defibrillated again. I could see her body jerk slightly this time, her arm twitch and breast jiggle and head fall to the side. The team watched the peaks on the monitor slow and the doctor rushed to steth her chest.

I know it was just a few seconds, but they seemed like hours, waiting to hear the doctor announce that she was in the clear. Removing the stethoscope from her ears, the doctor told the team, “let’s work on keeping her stable” before coming out to brief me