Laboured breathing with heart sound is something a few people have requested -- here it is, finally!
A little writing to go with, since it's been a while. 😊
The heat of the steam room felt amazing after my cold swim and I was already tired. It was no surprise that I fell asleep. I wake, alone, and I have no idea whether hours or minutes have passed. But something is wrong. My skin feels hot and tight, and as I stagger from the steam room, through the deserted pool area, my breathing is laboured and my heart is pounding like it wants to escape the confines of my ribs.
Continued below the cut.
TW: Only slightly dark and can have a happy or sad ending, depending on how you choose to continue it in your mind.
You're a life guard returning to duty outside the pool area, and when I emerge, you take one look at me and blanch.
"Sit down!" you bark, gesturing to a bench as you grab a medical bag from behind the desk.
I sit, light-headed, the pounding of my heart throbbing in my ears. I barely notice the cold of your stethoscope as you press it to my left breast. My heartbeat fills both our ears now, fast and irregular.
"You're experiencing severe heatstroke," you say, briefly meeting my eyes before searching around us. Catching the gaze of another lifeguard down the hall: "Run for a stretcher and call 911, I don't like how her heart sounds!"
There isn't room on the bench to lie down, but you place one cool hand behind my neck for support as you continue to listen to the frantic pumping of my overheated heart.
I ask, "Am I going to be okay? I didn't mean to fall asleep..." My words come out a little slurred and I feel panic starting to seep into the corners of my mind.
You hear my heart pick up even more speed. "Stay calm," you say. "I'll take care of you. Your heart is overworked and struggling to maintain rhythm. I've sent a colleague for help, so you just need to hang on for a few minutes, okay?"
I try to nod, but my heart skips a beat and I gasp instead. My vision is going brown.
Your brow creases and you move your stethoscope below my exposed breast, listening at the triscuspid valve. My throbbing heart rocks your hand with every beat, making it all the more noticeable how irregular it is.
You look at my eyes again and then down the hall. There's no sign of anyone.
Disconcertingly, a small smile comes to your lips. To me, you say gently: "I hate to tell you this, but your heart is going to fail soon. Before we can do anything to help you. Try not to panic, I'm going to stay here with you."
My eyes go wide but I can barely breathe, let alone respond.
You continue at a low volume, almost murmuring into my ear. "I'm going to have my stethoscope right here over your heart as it fails. Do you feel how it's stumbling? Tripping over itself trying to keep you conscious? It can't do that much longer--maybe just a few seconds, or a minute at most. I can hear the valves opening and closing, every last squeeze of that poor, dying muscle. You treated it badly and now it's giving up on you."
My vision is going spotty, fading from brown to black. Am I still breathing? I can't tell anymore, I can't feel anything but the pounding in my chest, hear anything but the soft murmur of your words. They're somehow both terrifying and reassuring, and almost seductive.
"Your heart is going to stop in the next few seconds," I hear you whisper. I think I'm slumping against you but my body is beginning to feel far away. Your voice comes once more, tickling my ear and throat. "This is it, this is the last time your heart beats under its own power. But don't worry, soon it will be under mine."
My heart thuds hard, then pauses for an immeasurably long time. It thuds again, almost a kick against my ribs. The last thing I hear is your soft sigh of pleasure as it goes still.
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