maladyfair

[maladyfair]

As Long As We both Shall Live

Story Content and Summary - 5,666. Ellie and Mateo from Slip and Fall get married, but will Ellie survive the day? Heart block, agonal breathing, on-site resuscitation.

Sequel to: Slip and Fall; characters also seen in Choke.

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Ellie looked beautiful. Delicate, dressed in cream lace, curly hair pulled back from her face and tumbling down her back. Light make up aside from her eyes; Mateo could still see her freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.

She stared up at him with a look of adoration, one that he returned tenfold. Her voice was steady as she made her vows, but her eyes gave her away, glistening with emotion.

Still, he couldn’t help but worry.

She’d felt nauseated and a little dizzy prior to the ceremony, causing them to delay for fifteen minutes. Her mother, Rebekah, told him she hadn’t eaten enough breakfast. He hovered outside the bathroom, more than willing to come in and help. She didn’t want him to see her in her dress like that, however, and she’d refused Josh’s offer of a finger stick. Paloma, matron of honor and several months pregnant, saved the day with a sparkling water and a handful of candy.

Ellie looked pale coming down the aisle, and she’d definitely wavered on her feet more than once, but she squeezed his hand and whispered reassurances. As the ceremony wrapped up, they stood close, Mateo keeping a protective eye on his new wife. 

“I pronounce you married,” the pastor intoned. “Please seal your union with a kiss!”

Ellie reached for him, and he folded her into his arms, leaning in to press a kiss to her upturned mouth. She tasted like strawberry candy, and he lingered, overtaken by his good fortune and the commitment they’d just made to each other.

When he pulled back, she smiled up at him.

“I love you,” she murmured, her voice thick.

“I love you, too.”

Someone cheered, then everyone cheered. Mateo turned, intending to steer them toward the aisle. Ellie stumbled. 

“Hey!” Mateo tightened his grip on her, watching in alarm as her face blanched and her eyelids fluttered. She stared at him for several long seconds, then her eyes shifted to the side and rolled back, her body going limp in his arms. “Ellie! JOSH!”

His brother-in-law was beside them in seconds, helping to lower Ellie to the floor. Josh looked up, then caught sight of Mateo and Paloma’s father. “Hugo! Behind the driver’s seat of my truck, there’s a big orange medical bag. You can’t miss it! Hurry!” He dug into his pocket and dragged out a set of keys, tossing them to the older man.

“Ellie!” Mateo called out, gently patting her cheek. She looked pale enough that he felt a stab of fear, remembering how she’d looked the day she’d drowned in the river.

Josh pressed two of his fingers into her neck, but as he did so, she stirred, her arms flinching and a huff of air escaping her lips.

“Open your eyes, Ellie,” Josh said.

“Cocktail hour is starting now!” Mateo heard Paloma say. “Go on, everyone. We’ll meet you there shortly!”

Ellie opened her eyes, a look of consternation and confusion passing across her face. 

“You’re okay,” Mateo said, wanting to reassure her. “You fainted, cariña.”

Josh still has his fingers pressed to her carotid, his eyes on his watch. “Pulse rate is around sixty-five. How are you feeling, Ellie?”

“Tired…” She made a face. “I’m messing up my hair.”

“If she feels well enough to worry about her hair, then I feel better, too,” Paloma said, sitting down heavily in a chair close by. Mateo glanced up at her and saw that she was gesturing for Ellie’s mother to sit next to her. “You aren’t pregnant, are you, Ellie?”

Ellie’s cheeks turned pink, a welcome color. “No…”

“Ellie,” Josh said, leaning back on his heels. “When your dad gets here with my bag, I want to check your blood pressure and your sugar.”

“Okay…” Ellie sighed and reached for Mateo’s hand. “I’m okay. Don’t look so worried. I’ll be up and about soon. We have pictures to take and cake to eat.”

Mateo ran his thumb across the back of her fingers, pausing at her ring finger, where he’d just placed her wedding ring. “I love you, Ellie.”

“I love you, too,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “I’ll be okay.”

A short while later, his father returned with Josh’s kit. The minister brought a throw pillow from elsewhere in the venue to put under Ellie’s feet. Mateo sat close by while Josh pricked one of her fingers and checked her blood pressure.Then he clamped a pulse oximeter onto her index finger.

“Your blood sugar is fine. Your blood pressure is low, Ellie. Eighty over fifty. Have you had low blood pressure in the past?” Josh looked from Ellie to Mateo as he removed the cuff from her arm.

They both nodded.

“I’m supposed to drink a lot of water,” Ellie said. “And exercise.”

“Sweetheart,” Rebekah piped up. “The photographer has a bottle of water for you.”

Mateo looked up and saw the kind young woman with a pixie cut they’d hired to take pictures. The photographer extended the bottle of water to him. “I’m going to take some pictures of your guests. Just let me know when you’d like me to come back in here. Feel better, Ellie.”

“I’d like some water,” Ellie said, looking at Josh. “Is it alright if I sit up?”

“Oxygen saturation at ninety-five percent… That’s technically normal. Yeah, go for it. I can help you.” Josh slid his arm under her shoulders and supported her. Ellie reached up and patted her hair as Mateo cracked open the water bottle. 

“Is it a mess?” she asked, taking the bottle from him.

“You look perfect, Ellie,” Mateo said, trying to decide if she had a little more color in her cheeks. 

Ellie cocked an eyebrow at him and took a swig of water. Josh gently retrieved his pulse ox, watching Ellie’s face for a moment before nodding. 

“Your hair looks great,” his sister, Paloma, piped up. “I can see the back; can’t tell you’ve been laying on it at all.”

Mateo smiled up at his sister. She was rubbing her belly absentmindedly as she spoke.

“You okay, babe?” Josh murmured, looking over at Paloma with a smile on his face. He was relaxing back into wedding mode now that Ellie was sitting up and talking.

“We’re fine. No worries now that Ellie is feeling better.”

Everyone looked much more relaxed. Their parents were chatting with each other, and the pastor who’d married them was filling out the marriage license. Mateo let himself sit down next to Ellie, reaching for the hand that wasn’t holding the water bottle. She took a big gulp of water and swallowed hard, her eyes amused.

“I keep trying to guzzle it so we can move along.” She squeezed Mateo’s hand. “See? Everything’s OK.”

Nearly an hour later, photos were done and a bathroom break taken, and Mateo and Ellie were in the center of the dance floor, having their first dance. She leaned against him, arms wrapped around his neck. They hadn’t choreographed anything, or taken dance lessons; they simply held each other and slowly moved to the music.

“We did it,” she murmured.

“Mmm?”

“We got married. I’m so happy.” 

The song was ending, so Mateo stopped moving. “I am, too.”

Ellie slipped her arms from around his neck and reached up to pull his head down to hers, giving him a soft kiss. Then her stomach growled.

“Let’s get our food.” Mateo grinned at her. “I’ll fend the well-wishers off until you’ve eaten.”

“Do you mind bringing me a plate?” She wrapped her arm around his. “I think I need to sit down.”

Mateo quickly steered her toward their table. “Are you feeling faint again?”

“A little.” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. 

Mateo helped her into her chair, his eyes on her face. Her own eyes were darting around their small crowd of family and friends. 

“Are you looking for someone?” Mateo rubbed her shoulder. “Your mother?”

“No,” Ellie replied, sounding a little breathless. “Just hoping no one notices.”

Mateo kissed her temple. “Don’t be embarrassed, Ellie. Everyone here loves you.”

She nodded, then offered him a wobbly smile. What little color she’d regained over the hour had drained back out of her face. “I want a little of everything, please.”

“Sweetheart,” Rebekah’s mother piped up from behind Mateo. “Hugo and Alma are making your plates right now. Both of you can just sit and relax.”

Ellie reached for Mateo’s hand, smiling at her mother. “That’s kind of them, Mama.”

Mateo thought she sounded breathless, and when Rebekah moved to Ellie’s other side, he saw the older woman had a worried look on her face. “Cariña, do you need me to get Josh?”

“No,” she said. “Sit. Josh will be sitting a couple of chairs away from me soon, anyway. Mama, you go get something to eat.”

Mateo nodded at Ellie’s mother. “I’ve got her.”

He said down in the chair beside her, turning toward her and keeping hold of her hand. That’s when he noticed she had her other hand pressed to her chest. He could see it rising and falling rapidly with the shallow movement of her breathing.

“Ellie?”

She grimaced and gasped softly. Her torso tipped forward, nearly dumping her on the table.

“Ellie!” Mateo dropped her hand and grabbed her shoulder to hold her upright. Then he looked wildly around the room, looking for his brother-in-law.

Ellie let out another gasp. “Chest… hurts…”

Mateo stood, hoping to spot Josh, but Ellie clutched at him.

“I need out… of my under… garments… can’t… breathe…” Her eyes were huge and disoriented, and she swayed against him.

“Alright, it’s okay!” Mateo spotted his sister hurrying toward them. “Paloma! Where’s Josh?”

“He went to grab his bag; we could see she looked unwell from the food line.” Paloma came around the table to Ellie’s other side. “Can you breathe a little slower, Ellie? You’re going to hyperventilate and make yourself dizzy.”

“She’s having chest pains!” Mateo turned to look behind them. “She wants to go take off some of her clothes. She’s having trouble breathing.”

As he stopped speaking, Ellie went limp, sagging to the side. Mateo yelped in alarm and then stood, awkwardly holding her up while he kicked his chair back out of the way. Then he gathered her up in his arms and lifted her, a bundle of limp limbs and skirts.

The wedding planner, Malia, appeared out of nowhere and helped him lower Ellie to the floor while Paloma pulled the chair out of the way.

Family gathered around them as Mateo leaned over Ellie, his own chest aching. To his relief, her eyelids fluttered, and she took a ragged breath. “Ellie! Open your eyes!”

“I’m calling an ambulance,” he heard his father say. “She doesn’t look good.”

Ellie opened her eyes. Her hands reached up to pull at the neckline of her dress. “I can’t… breathe…”

“I’ll help you, Ellie, it’s okay!” Mateo ran his hands down her sides, searching for a zipper.

“It’s in the back!” Paloma kneeled at Ellie’s other side. “Roll her toward you; I’ll unzip it and unhook her bustier!”

Mateo rolled Ellie toward him and watched as his sister unzipped the dress, then unhooked the series of small hooks running down Ellie’s back. He tipped his head to look at Ellie’s face. Her lips looked bluish, and she continued to clutch at her chest.

“We need some privacy, please!” he heard Rebekah say.

Josh ran up, dropping his bag and kneeling by Ellie’s head. 

“Got it!” Paloma said. Mateo laid Ellie on her back, and Paloma reached in to pull the bustier out from the front neckline of the dress, leaving her covered while allowing her lungs to expand fully.

Josh reached in to take Ellie’s pulse.

“Is that better, Ellie?” Mateo asked. “She says her chest hurts, and she’s having trouble breathing!”

“Papá is on the phone with 9-1-1,” Paloma said.

“She’s running about thirty beats per minute,” Josh said. “Ellie, just breathe easy for me.”

As Mateo watched, Ellie’s breathing grew more and more shallow. Josh was pulling things out of his bag and putting on gloves. He could hear his father taking with the operator. Paloma and his mother, Alma, stood close by with Ellie’s mother.

“Mat…” Ellie said, breathless. “Love you…”

“I love you, too, Ellie, but you should save your breath.” Mateo felt his throat tighten and his eyes burn. He had the eerie feeling that she was trying to make sure she didn’t leave anything unsaid. “An ambulance is on the way!”

“Good…” Ellie muttered, and then her eyes closed and her arms fell limp to either side.

“ELLIE! Wake up!” Mateo grasped her shoulders, shook her lightly. Josh plunged his fingers into her neck. With his other hand, he reached toward the supplies he’d laid out.

“I found the AED!” Mateo heard Malia exclaim.

“She has a pulse, Mat, but it’s slow. I’m going to help her breathe.” Josh tipped Ellie’s head back and opened her mouth. He had a plastic airway ready and slipped it between her teeth, turning it one hundred and eighty degrees before letting the flange rest on her teeth. Then called out to his father-in-law: “Hugo! Tell them she had chest pain prior to collapsing, has a pulse rate of thirty, and I am assisting her respirations.”

Josh pressed a bag-valve mask to Ellie’s pale face and squeezed the bulb, making her chest rise visibly. Mateo reached for her hand, his fingers clumsy and unpracticed as they sought the pulse in her wrist. He found it, and even he could tell her heart beat was frighteningly slow.

“Josh, what’s happening to her?” Mateo asked, his voice shaking. He could hear Rebekah sniffling and forced himself not to look up, knowing he’d be weeping as well if he saw his mother-in-law’s tears.

“Josh, the operator says the ambulance is five minutes out.” Mateo looked up at his father. His face was solemn as he crouched close by, cell phone pressed to his ear. “She wants to know if Ellie’s condition changes at all.”

The sound of furniture moving behind him made Mateo look over his shoulder. Malia and a few of the guests were moving around a set of the venue’s partitions, giving them some privacy. Then Malia hurried over. 

“Your friends Jill and Miller are outside waiting for the ambulance, and the photographer offered to help them find their way through the building. I’ll be in here with your guests if you need me.” She held out a bottle of water. “You are not looking great yourself. Have some water.”

“Thank you.” Mateo sat the water bottle down and immediately forgot it, his attention returning to Ellie. 

“Mat, I want to go ahead and put the AED pads on her. Just in case, okay? Right now, we won’t be using them, but it could save us time if that changes.” His brother-in-law kept squeezing the bag as he spoke. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’ve got it,” Paloma said, kneeling beside Ellie. He could see the bulge of his sister’s child rounding out her dress as she reached for the AED. “You just keep holding her hand, okay?”

Mateo cradled Ellie’s hand in his, the fingers of his other hand still monitoring her pulse. He could still feel it, but it felt weak and slow against his fingertips.

There was a brief period of near silence from the group, aside from the regular whooshing sound of the bag and the rustling as Paloma tore open a set of packaged adult bystander AED pads.

Then she reached for the wide strap of Ellie’s gown, gently pulling her arm through the hole. Mateo released Ellie’s hand long enough to do the same on the other side. Then Paloma turned the bodice of the dress down, exposing Ellie’s pale breasts and most of her abdomen. He watched his sister smooth the first pad just below Ellie’s right collarbone, then the second beneath her left breast. Ellie’s chest rose and fell as Josh squeezed the bag, though Mateo could see that Ellie was still trying to breathe on her own, her chest occasionally heaving out of sequence with the breaths from the bag.

“Don’t plug it in yet,” Josh said. “Thank you, babe.”

Paloma pulled the bodice of Ellie’s dress back up to cover her. 

Ellie’s hand moved, then her arm, the muscles contorting and pulling against him when Mateo tried to keep hold of her hand. Her other arm rose off of the floor, and he heard her gasp underneath the mask. 

“Ellie?” he asked, looking at her face. Her eyes were still closed.

Josh sat the bag down and pressed his fingers into Ellie’s neck. “Paloma, are you okay to help me? I need you to take over ventilation.”

“Yes!” Paloma shifted to the side, waiting as Josh held his fingers to Ellie’s carotid.

Then Josh moved, rushing around to Ellie’s side. “Hugo! Tell them she doesn’t have a pulse! I’m starting chest compressions now!”

Mateo watched in horror as Josh jerked the front of her gown back down to her navel and pressed his gloved hands between her breasts. He heard Rebekah let out a sob as Josh began pumping, forcing Ellie’s sternum down two inches.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

“No, Ellie…” Mateo whispered. He still had her hand, gripping it tightly. She’d gone limp again after the initial gasp. Her head tipped to the side and Paloma immediately turned it back toward the ceiling, thrusting Ellie’s chin forward and pressing the mask to her face. Ellie’s pearl earrings dangled into her hair, shaking with each compression.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…” Josh’s gloves made a noise against Ellie’s skin each time he pushed down and rocked back up, squeaking and rustling. “…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Squeeze, Paloma!”

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Ellie’s chest rose and fell, and then Josh resumed chest compressions, making her breasts wobble and her stomach bulge. The force required to pump her heart made her body move like a rag doll, her shoulders shrugging and her feet rocking. Mateo heard air puffing back up out of her inside of the mask. Then she made a strange, growling sort of sound, accompanied by an abortive movement of her legs.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Josh shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket, tossing it behind him.

Paloma squeezed the bag twice.

“One, two, three, four…” 

Mateo finally looked up. His father was pacing back and forth, still on the phone. His mother was sitting in a chair next to his mother-in-law, Alma holding Rebekah’s face against her shoulder as the other woman sobbed. As expected, the sight didn’t help him, and he blinked back tears as he looked back down at Ellie.

“…eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

“The paramedics will get her back,” Paloma said. Her voice was husky, and Mateo didn’t dare to look at her.

“…twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…”

“Stay with me, Ellie,” Mateo pleaded. He held on tight to her hand. “We just got married. Please, stay with me!”

“…thirty! Mateo,” Josh said. “We will let the AED analyze after two more cycles of CPR. Then I need you to switch with me.”

Then it was time for Josh to start compressions again.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…”

Mateo squeezed her hand again and then released it, laying it gently on the floor. He unbuttoned and removed his tuxedo jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Then he removed his bowtie and undid the top few buttons of his shirt.

“…thirty!”

Whoosh! Whoosh!

“One, two, three, four, five…” Josh’s shoulders rocked over his hands, his weight pushing down into Ellie’s naked chest. 

Mateo felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and his father was there. Hugo nodded, gave his shoulder a squeeze, then released him and took a step back.

“…twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine thirty!” Josh reached across Ellie’s body for the defibrillator connector and plugged it into the AED, turning it on as Paloma squeezed the bag.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient! Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient!” Mateo held his breath, his eyes on Ellie as the device determined if she needed a shock. “No shock advised.”

He didn’t have time to deflate; Mateo bent over his wife and pressed his hands into the reddened skin between her breasts. He interlocked his fingers and started pumping, trying not to focus on the feeling of her ribcage moving under his hands. She made another gurgling, growling sound and her arms jerked.

“Don’t stop!” Josh snapped, though Mateo could tell this wasn’t Ellie coming around.

“One, two, three, four, five…” His voice was hoarse in his own ears.

“The ambulance will be here soon,” Josh said, pressing his fingers into the inside of Ellie’s wrist. “You’re doing a good job. We’re keeping oxygenated blood circulating in her body and when they get here, they can give her medications to help.”

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Mateo paused long enough for Paloma to give Ellie two breaths, and then he started again. “One, two, three…”

Underneath his hands, her skin felt warm and soft. Damp from his sweat and Josh’s. He was trying not to think of their wedding ceremony; every time it tried to enter his mind, he was in danger of panicking.

“…nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…” Please come back, Ellie. Please, God, please come back! “…Thirty!”

He gasped as he lifted his hands. There wasn’t any time to recover; before he knew it, Paloma had given Ellie two breaths and it was time to beat her heart for her again.

“One, two, three, four…” A small commotion near the entrance of the hall drew his attention, though he kept pushing his hands into her sternum. Malia was in view, pointing in their direction.

Two paramedics pushing a gurney walked quickly into the hall, turning the gurney as directed and heading toward the group around Ellie. Josh stood and met them halfway, walking back with them.

“Thirty!” Paloma, holding the mask firmly to Ellie’s face, squeezed the bag twice. “One, two, three, four…”

“…bradycardic, then she stopped making respiratory effort, and she lost a palpable pulse. We’re in the middle of the second round of CPR; no shock was advised by the AED.” Josh stood next to Ellie as the paramedics unloaded equipment and bags. “Her name is Ellie. She’s been experiencing low blood pressure and a low heart rate recently. She had a previous cardiac arrest due to drowning, but we were told she had fully recovered. This is her next of kin, her husband Mateo.”

Whoosh, whoosh!

“One, two, three, four, five…”

A stocky woman with her hair in a neat bun kneeled on the floor next to Ellie. “Okay, sir. Mateo. I’m going to check Ellie’s pulse and we will take over. You’ve done a good job; you can stop.”

Mateo raised his hands, and the woman pressed two of her fingers into Ellie’s delicate neck. 

“Josh,” the tall, male paramedic said. “Take over the bag for me. I’m going to get her on the monitor.”

Mateo, realizing he was about to be in the way, snatched up Ellie’s limp hand and pressed a kiss to her cool palm. “I love you!” His voice came out gruff and harsh, and he laid her hand back down. Then he pushed himself up off the floor and took a few weak-kneed steps over to his chair.

He might have sat on his tux jacket, but he was on autopilot at that point and picked it up, shaking out the wrinkles and draping it over the back of the chair. Then he dropped into the chair and clasped his shaking hands together in his lap.

He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder again, and then Paloma pulled a chair over to sit with him, one hand covering his and the other on her belly.

Mateo swallowed hard and asked Paloma: “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she reassured him. “And Ellie will be.”

He looked down at Ellie. They’d peeled off the AED pads and replaced them with large pads. Whatever the paramedics saw wasn’t good; they didn’t shock her. The male medic pulled Ellie’s arm to the side, tied off a tourniquet, and cleaned the crook of her elbow. 

Josh kneeled at Ellie’s head, bracing it against the movement of her body, the mask pressed to her face. The female paramedic paused compressions and Josh squeezed the bag twice, watching Ellie’s chest rise. Then the paramedic resumed compressions. She was still moving occasionally, her knee bending or her throat forcing out an unnatural sound.

“Administering one milligram epinephrine and flushing.” The male medic emptied a syringe into Ellie’s IV, followed by a second syringe. Then he elevated her arm. “Analyze in ninety seconds.”

“…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

“Is everyone still here?” Mateo asked, suddenly thinking of their extended family and friends lingering on the other side of the partition.

“Yes, mijo. The planner moved everyone into the space where we had the ceremony, and the minister is with them.” Hugo squeezed his shoulder. “Everyone is praying for our Ellie.”

“Gracias.” Mateo leaned forward. The paramedics were working quickly, one performing hard and rapid compressions, while the other took her blood pressure. 

“She’s hypotensive. Treatment is IV bolus and vasopressin infusion. Josh and Genesis, switch after analysis.” 

“…five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

Ellie looked worse, he thought. Her arms splayed out on either side, and her skin was a terrible color. As Mateo watched, the male paramedic prepared what looked like a bag of saline. Josh had his fingers lapped over her chin, keeping her jaw in place and her airway open. Her breasts wobbled with each compression, her nipples pebbling in the air conditioning. The hands on her sternum were relentless, her ribcage bobbing and her abdomen pulsing with each thrust. 

“…thirty!” 

Josh squeezed the bag twice, and then Genesis the medic resumed compressions.

“One, two, three…”

“Sir?” the male medic asked, looking at Hugo as he held out the bag of saline. “I need you to hold this bag for me. Keep it at this level.”

“Of course!” Hugo stepped forward and took the saline bag, making sure he kept it raised without pulling on the attached tubing. Mateo leaned forward, bringing his fists up to his mouth. Paloma rubbed his back, murmuring something that he didn’t catch.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Genesis sat back on her heels, breathing hard as the male medic looked at the monitor. 

As he reached over to silence the alarm, Genesis and Josh switched places. “No change,” the medic said. “Still in PEA arrest… Two minutes of CPR.”

“Come on, Ellie,” Josh growled as he started compressions. “Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…”

“Ventilate every six seconds, Genesis. Her sat is holding steady,” the medic said. In the time that it took them to switch places, Ellie’s head had tipped to the side. Her features were slack, and she still looked pale. The oral airway jutted out from between her teeth.

Genesis tipped Ellie’s face back toward the ceiling, and quickly but carefully reopened her airway.

“…twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…”

Genesis pressed the mask over Ellie’s nose and mouth, and when Josh hit “thirty,” she gave Ellie two breaths.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

Mateo saw movement across from him and realized his mother was helping Rebekah out of her chair. Alma supported her as they hurried back toward the bathrooms.

“Is Rebekah okay?” Mateo asked. He felt numb and ragged, but he liked and respected Rebekah, and could only imagine how she was feeling. He also had a responsibility to Ellie’s family that he’d sealed today with a ring and a kiss. “Beyond the obvious…”

“I think Rebekah was about to vomit,” Hugo said. “You don’t have to worry about her, Mateo. Your mother has her.”

“Dad…” Mateo didn’t know what he wanted to say. The resuscitation efforts on Ellie continued. She was such a slim, fine-boned person, and the last time she’d been resuscitated, she’d taken a long time to recover. Part of that had been the head injury, but watching them work on her now was painful. Josh’s hands dwarfed her chest, and two inches looked like a lot on her slim frame.

Hugo reached back with his free hand, palm up. Mateo blinked at it for a few seconds before he reached out and clasped his father’s hand. Hugo nodded and squeezed his hand, his eyes on Ellie.

“…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…” 

Next to him, he heard Paloma sniffle. He couldn’t look at her, but he held out his other hand, and she took it and leaned her head against his shoulder. Then she whispered: “I’m so sorry, Mat.”

“Don’t. Don’t be, please.” He was shaking again.

“Thirty!” Josh shook out his arms and Genesis made Ellie’s chest rise and fall. Then Josh bent back to his work. “One, two, three…”

“We analyze after this cycle,” the other medic said. “Then I’ll administer epinephrine and Genesis and Josh will swap.”

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Josh leaned back, breathing hard and watching as Genesis gave Ellie two breaths. Then Genesis disconnected the bag and sat it to the side before switching places with Josh.

“V-fib!” the male medic called out. Josh’s head whipped up, and Mateo felt his own heart rate increase. “Charging to three-sixty!”

Genesis leaned in and gave Ellie a series of quick and deep compressions, popping her stomach up with each thrust.

Mateo gripped his father’s hand too hard and struggled not to do the same to Paloma. 

“Everyone clear!” the medic called out. Josh and Genesis raised their hands, leaning back. “Administering shock.”

Ellie’s chest gave a little jerk, making her head tip to the side and her arms flinch. Genesis clasped her hands together and began pumping rapidly between Ellie’s breasts.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…”

“Administering one milligram epinephrine,” the medic said, following the first syringe with a second. “Flushing…”

As before, he raised her arm for twenty seconds.

“Thirty!” Genesis said. Josh had already turned Ellie’s face upright and pressed the mask to her face. He squeezed the bag twice, his eyes drifting up to look at Mateo. 

Mateo would never know what Josh was going to say or do, if anything, because he flinched, looking shocked before he looked down again, lifting the mask and asking: “Ellie?”

“What do you have?” asked the medic. Genesis put her hands back between Ellie’s breasts and started pumping, only for Ellie to let out a wheezing gasp and jerk her arms. Mateo lunged forward, releasing the hands he was holding and crouching on the floor by her feet.

“Pause compressions!” the medic said.

“Ellie!” Mateo called out. 

Ellie’s chest heaved, and her hands grasped at the air. Josh pressed two fingers into her neck.

“She’s got a pulse!” he exclaimed. “Slow, but it’s there.”

Mateo heard Ellie gag, and Josh quickly removed the oral airway.

“Sinus rhythm,” the medic said. “Genesis, look at those P waves…”

Genesis leaned over Ellie, looking at the monitor. “Twelve lead?”

“Ellie.” Josh gently patted the side of Ellie’s face. “Ellie, it’s Josh! Mateo is here. Everyone’s here.”

“Do it,” the tall medic said. “I’m going to administer one milligram atropine.”

Mateo was making himself listen to the conversation between the paramedics, but his eyes were on Ellie’s chest, which was rising and falling visibly, at almost a regular rate.

“Pacing?” Genesis asked, getting up and heading for the bags of equipment and supplies.

“Let’s see how she does with the atropine,” the male medic said. “She’s at forty at the moment. Josh, how’s her breathing?”

“Fast, but it’s all her!” Josh was struggling to maintain his professionalism, visibly relieved. He smoothed her hair back from her face, his expression paternal, and called out: “Ellie?” 

“I’m going to tell Mamá and Rebekah,” Paloma said, hurrying by. “Poor Rebekah doesn’t know!”

Mateo reached out toward Ellie, his hand finding her bare ankle under her skirts. “Respira, cariña. Sólo respira.”

Two days later

“I’ll be close by,” the nurse said. “She should wake up any minute. The sedative took her for a bit of a ride.”

Mateo sat at Ellie’s bedside, her cool hand tucked between his two. Wan, with her curly hair pulled back from her face and a nasal cannula feeding her oxygen, she looked fragile. 

Reaching out, Mateo ran his fingertips across her face, tracing lines from freckle to freckle. Ellie stirred, wrinkling her nose and making a small, distressed sound. Mateo brushed a loose curl back behind her ear.

“Cariña. Wake up, it’s me.” 

Ellie yawned, too drowsy from the sedation to cover her mouth. Her head lolled from side to side and her legs moved beneath the covers. Her fingers moved, tightening on his hand. Finally, Ellie peeled open her eyes and looked around the room. Her gaze settled on Mateo, and she blinked at him several times. 

Then, as he watched, her face broke into a wide smile.

“Good to see you, too,” he said, keeping hold of her hand as he stood up. He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you…” Ellie breathed, yawning again. “Did they… do it? I fell… asleep.”

“The sedation knocked you out,” Mateo said. “But the pacemaker insertion was a success. You might be able to go home in a couple of days.”

“Good.” Ellie’s eyelids slowly fluttered. “I’m sleepy, Mat…”

“I know, it’s okay.” Mateo squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right here. The nurse will come back to talk to you, but for now, you can rest.”

Ellie rolled toward him, curling onto her side. He watched her breathe, in and out, slow and deep as she dozed off.

[maladyfair]

shining a penlight in their eyes in the middle of resuscitation efforts, in the grips of a punishing seizure, after they’ve gone limp and agonal in their rescuers arms… checking to see if they’re still there.

[maladyfair]

i really want this

[maladyfair]

Play

Story Content and Summary - 4,440 words. Ginnie and Holly take a break from real health drama in favor of fake health drama in a CPR play session. Explicit sex. 🏳️‍🌈

Previous installment: Don't Sweat It

--

Ginnie

“I’m so glad you don’t have a roommate,” Ginnie gushed for probably the third time. She was on her back on Holly’s rug, sprawled artfully in an old t-shirt and shorts. Ginnie ran her fingers over the fluffy rug as she spoke.

“You’re awfully talkative for someone in cardiac arrest,” Holly said, voice wry as she stepped back into the room.

Ginnie blushed, heat rushing from her chest up to her face. “Sorry…”

Holly crouched beside her, smiling. “I’m only kidding. Don’t worry. Are you nervous?”

“A little bit,” Ginnie admitted.

Holly planted her hands on either side of Ginnie’s head, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You know that we can do something else, right?” Holly waggled her eyebrows in a cartoonish display of suggestion.

“I want to play with you, Holly.” Ginnie was quick to reassure her, reaching up to take Holly’s face in her hands. She pulled her in for a kiss. When she opened her mouth, Holly deepened the kiss, her tongue gliding between Ginnie’s lips. Ginnie let out a low moan, first of pleasure, then of frustration as Holly pulled back. 

“It’s good I came back in here. We need to go over the rules.” Holly looked so serious, despite being only a couple of inches from Ginnie’s face. Ginnie nodded.

“If one of us wants to stop, we stop,” she said, reaching up to stroke Holly’s face.

“If you feel unwell, or I hurt you, you’ll tell me.” Holly’s voice was firm, though her raised eyebrows asked a question.

“I promise.”

“I’ll check your pulse periodically just to be safe. Let’s see how you’re doing now.” Holly trailed her fingertips up Ginnie’s neck and then pressed them into her pulse point.

“I’m sure it’s fast,” Ginnie said, laughing. Her eyes were on Holly’s chest, scoping out the curve of her flesh beneath her top. “I can tell you aren’t wearing a bra, and it’s all I can think about.”

Holly grinned. “Your heart feels excited.”

“Is there anything we need to practice before we get started?” Ginnie asked. “We know how to do mouth-to-mouth…”

“Compressions,” Holly said, kissing Ginnie’s jaw before shifting her stance. She reached down to trace Ginnie’s ribcage through her shirt. “How much pressure to use… I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ginnie felt Holly’s hands settle over her sternum. Her pelvic floor tightened, and her heart beat even faster. “Do what you think would work, and I’ll give you feedback.”

Holly nodded, seeming to gather herself. She looked both nervous and excited. “Okay. Please, let me know if it’s uncomfortable.”

Her shoulders sank fractionally. Ginnie felt the tiniest increase in pressure and exclaimed: “Much harder than that!”

Holly let out an amused huff of air. “Take two…”

This time, she pressed much more firmly. Ginnie let out an involuntary squeak as her sternum shifted and her stomach rippled. Holly immediately jerked her hands away and gasped: “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“No, I mean yes! I’m sorry. It just startled me.” Ginnie blinked up at Holly, assessing how she felt. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and felt herself already growing wet between her thighs. “It was strange. Hot, but strange.”

“I have an idea,” Holly said, sitting back on her heels. “How about we do this on the bed? I’m less likely to hurt you, and I could use the CPR board.”

“What’s a CPR board?”

“It’s like a short backboard, meant to create a firmer surface and a better angle for CPR. I ordered one online when we first started talking about doing this.” Holly rested her hand on Ginnie’s hip. “I want to see you laid back on it, with your head tipped back and your nipples staring up at me.”

Ginnie groaned. “Holly, if you keep talking like that, I’m going to come before we get started.”

This made Holly grin. “You like dirty talk.”

“I like it when you do it,” Ginnie said. “You’re so sexy.”

Holly ran her hand up Ginnie’s side, slipping beneath her shirt. She pressed her hand to the skin just below Ginnie’s bra. “You’re so excited I can easily feel you here. You know how to make a girl feel confident, hun.”

“Is there anything else we need to practice?” Ginnie grinned up at her. “I know, I’m impatient.”

“So, I didn’t buy a training AED, but I got pads and I will have all the sounds playing on my phone. I thought that you could listen for me to call out ‘Clear’ and then you can jerk like I’ve just defibrillated you.”

“Okay.” Ginnie bit her lip, thinking. Then she flinched, tensing up her chest muscles and letting her hands and feet jerk. “How’s that?”

Holly responded by leaning in to kiss her. They made out for a few moments, all hands and mouths, until Holly broke the kiss with a gasp. “We’d better get started, or we will never get there! Ready?” Holly held out her hand.

“To the bedroom,” Ginnie said, taking Holly’s hand and letting her pull her to her feet.

Moments later, Ginnie curled on her side on top of the bed, her eyes closed, breathing deeply as she listened for the door. She heard it open, then Holly called out: “Ginnie, are you up?”

Ginnie took another few deep breaths and then held her breath, listening as Holly approached the bed.

“Ginnie? We need to get ready. Hey!” Holly sounded casual, so far unconcerned. The bed moved as Holly crawled across it and laid her hand on Ginnie’s arm. She shook her gently. “Kitten?”

Ginnie let the movement rock her body, her head slipping forward off the pillow. Holly shook her again, harder this time. Then she felt Holly’s hand on her stomach, resting flat there for several seconds before she brought her hand up to Ginnie’s nose.

“Ginnie!” Holly called out, her voice sharper this time.

Holly’s a good actress, Ginnie thought. I hope I can play dead properly to match.

She was getting close to needing a breath. Fortunately, Play Holly had realized something was terribly wrong with Play Ginnie. Holly rolled her onto her back, rough enough that Ginnie could hide her exhalation of stale air and draw in a subtle, deep breath. “Ginnie! Take a breath!”

Ginnie felt the pillow come out from beneath her head, heard it hit the floor. Then Holly’s hands grasped her hips, dragging her further from the headboard. 

“Come on, Ginnie!” Holly’s warm hands tipped her head back, fingers found and pressed against her carotid artery. Ginnie opened her eyes to slits and saw Holly pop up, exclaiming. “No!”

Ginnie expected her to start compressions and was trying to figure out how to take a breath without it being obvious. Instead, Holly pinched her nose closed, giving her just enough time to exhale before Holly sucked in an audible breath and pressed her soft mouth over Ginnie’s. Her exhalation made Ginnie’s chest rise. Ginnie let the air escape, and Holly filled her again with warm breath.

This time, Ginnie didn’t exhale, and Holly shifted over her, quickly tracing her ribcage and clasping her hands over Ginnie’s sternum. “Breathe, Ginnie!” Holly called out, and then she started pumping.

Ginnie immediately understood why they were on the bed. The mattress absorbed a lot of the force, making Holly’s compressions bouncy instead of effective. Ginnie, who was typically comfortable with her body, wished for Holly’s sake that she had larger breasts that would wobble and shake as Holly worked on her. Especially in a bit, when the plan was to cut open her shirt.

“…eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” Holly counted each compression without fail. Ginnie felt herself slowly relaxing into the play, her analytical and self conscious thoughts fading into the background. Instead, she let her slitted gaze drop to Holly’s chest. Holly’s were the breasts that were bouncing, hidden beneath her shirt but unrestrained by a bra. Ginnie could see her nipples through the fabric and had to resist a strong urge to reach up and touch them. Instead, she focused on letting her held air escape her lungs. “…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

“Breathe, Ginnie!” Holly urged, thumbing open Ginnie’s mouth before sealing her lips wide over Ginnie’s. The air rushed into her, sating her air hunger and sending a pulse of arousal straight between her thighs. Their lips made a fwhump sound as Holly broke the seal, letting Ginnie exhale before she gave her another deep breath. The air rounded out her cheeks before entering her lungs, sating her need for oxygen.

Holly changed position, one leg swinging over Ginnie’s hips and her hands coming back down between Ginnie’s breasts. The compressions resumed, Ginnie watching Holly as she moved over her; breasts bouncing and her short top riding up to expose her stomach. “…five, six, seven, eight….”

If she allowed it, there was enough to Holly’s compressions to force air out of her lungs. The huffing noise was arousing, along with the feel of breath escaping her. She found if she timed it properly, she could take in a little air on the recoil. The room filled with the sound of her air puffing out, Holly’s rhythmic counting, and the soft thump of Ginnie’s body being forced into the mattress.

“…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty… Come on, Ginnie! Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine thirty!” Holly stretched out over her, grinding against Ginnie’s pelvis as she pinched her nose. Her other hand grasped Ginnie’s jaw, holding her face in place as she breathed for her. Instead of two breaths, Holly gave her a series of five. The breaths made her lightheaded, a sensation that should have been unpleasant but nearly made Ginnie moan instead. Holly was close enough that Ginnie’s breasts brushed Holly’s with each breath. She wished they were already naked.

Then Holly started thrusting her hands between Ginnie’s breasts again. “Come on, kitten. Breathe, or I might have to use the defibrillator on you. Eight, nine, ten…”

Holly finished the round, but to Ginnie’s surprise, she reached for the bottom hem of her shirt before she gave her breaths. It was for the best, because the sight of Holly peeling her shirt over her head was enough to take Ginnie’s breath away. Holly cupped her breasts for Ginnie’s benefit, thumbs stroking her nipples. Then leaned over to breathe for her. Ginnie’s chest heaved once, twice. Then the bouncy compressions resumed. This time, Ginnie’s half-lidded gaze stayed on Holly’s breasts, bouncing as she pumped up and down. Her brown nipples were hard, and Ginnie briefly imagined herself sucking on them.

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Holly’s breaths this round were half kiss, half respiration, and when she started chest compressions, they were even more forceful. The bed creaked and thumped, and Ginnie felt heat wash over her at the thought of the neighbors listening in. When Holly hit thirty, she gave Ginnie two more breaths and then gasped: “I need to get the AED!”

Holly climbed off of her, the bed shaking as she hopped off and hurried over to the closet where she’d stashed her phone, medical shears, the AED pads, and the CPR board. Shortly after, Ginnie felt the bed shake again and then Holly was slipping her hands under her arms and heaving her torso upright. Ginnie let her head sag back, hair hanging in a curtain and her neck stretched and exposed. “This will help with CPR, Ginnie. You just have to beat your heart and take a breath, hun!”

It was, Ginnie noticed, already getting harder for Holly to sound upset. She seemed to default to breathy desire; Ginnie imagined how wet she’d be if she could touch her now. Holly held her body up with one arm, sliding something cool and hard beneath her back. When Holly lowered her back to the mattress, she found her spine was arched, thrusting her chest up. Her head fell back off the board, opening her airway.

Holly leaned forward and closed Ginnie’s nostrils, her other hand resting on her right breast as she breathed. Ginnie knew she’d feel her nipple poking through the fabric into Holly’s palm. A second breath, then Holly’s hands stacked over her sternum, and she thrusted down into Ginnie’s chest. The CPR board made her compressions feel more forceful, though Ginnie could still feel the bed bouncing beneath her. Each pump forced her abdomen to pop up and shifted her sternum enough to feel almost real, though they were still shallow.

Holly’s eyes were on Ginnie’s as she rocked her shoulders over her hands; Ginnie assumed she was trying to ascertain if she was causing her pain. Ginnie winked, and Holly’s mouth pulled into a crooked grin.

“Come on, Ginnie!” she said, trying to put a little desperation into her voice. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

Holly

Holly was trying to make the experience last, but as she leaned over Ginnie and pressed her into the CPR board, all she could think about was cutting off her clothes so she could see the effects her bouncy compressions had on Ginnie’s body. It was time to give her breaths, so Holly brushed the hair out of Ginnie’s face and covered her mouth, enjoying her scent and the feeling of her skin. After the second breath, Holly slipped her fingers down to just beneath Ginnie’s jaw, pressing firmly into her carotid artery.

Ginnie’s pulse beat strong and fast under her fingertips, matching the slight flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck. Holly groped for the shears, then said: “Need to get these clothes out of the way!”

Her girlfriend’s lips quirked, though otherwise she lay still. She’d closed her eyes, and when she wasn’t trying not to smile, she did a good impression of unconsciousness. Holly interpreted that as trust and felt warmth grow in her chest as she snipped the bottom hem of Ginnie’s shirt.

She ran the scissors up Ginnie’s chest, cutting quickly through the old t-shirt, then snipping the center of her bra. The cups sprang back, and she quickly pushed the scraps of her shirt open. Holly dropped the scissors back on the bedspread, intending to cut through the rest of her clothing soon. She wanted to maintain as much realism as possible by not leaving her without compressions for more than ten seconds at a time.

The skin between Ginnie’s breasts was slightly pink but otherwise unbruised, so Holly stacked her hands there and started compressions again. 

“One!” she called out, her eyes on Ginnie’s body. Despite being shallow, the compressions made Ginnie’s trim stomach pop. Holly let out a low moan. The little huffs of air escaping Ginnie’s parted lips were hot. Her breasts wobbled slightly and her nipples were so hard they looked like pink pebbles resting atop her skin. “…seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one��”

Ginnie let her body move with the compressions, her head and feet rocking slightly. The CPR board helped to keep her head in place, but it still swayed side to side, making her look very much like she was limp and unresponsive.

“Thirty!” Holly gave Ginnie two quick breaths and then reached for the AED pads, trailing the leads out to the side before she pulled off the paper backing of the first pad and pressed it to the skin above Ginnie’s right breast. She opted for another round of compressions before applying the second pad.

“Hah, hah, hah….” The air escaped Ginnie as Holly worked on her. She could feel Ginnie’s ribcage depress slightly with her altered compressions. 

“Breathe, Ginnie! Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

“Hah, hah, hah, hah…”

“…twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…”

Ginnie let out a moan, slightly breaking character. 

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Holly reached for the second AED pads with one hand, then leaned over and kissed Ginnie, their tongues briefly entwined before she sealed off her nose with a pinch. Two breaths, then Holly peeled off the paper backing and pressed the pad to Ginnie’s side, her hand curving around her ribcage and brushing up against her breast.

Holly switched to one-handed compressions as she reached for her cell phone and unlocked the screen. She’d found a programmable soundboard app and filled it with AED phrases. Holly tapped the screen and the phone announced: “Apply pads and plug in the connector.”

Another press, and: “Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient. Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient.”

Holly waited a second and then pressed the sound that indicated Ginnie didn’t have a shockable rhythm. “No shock advised. Resume CPR for two minutes!”

“No!” Holly exclaimed, quickly pressing her hands to Ginnie’s sternum. “Please! One, two, three, four…”

Ginnie lay like a coding patient, eyes open again and locked in the air, limbs limp, belly rippling as Holly pumped. Holly finished the round and gave her two more breaths before reaching for the shears again. This time, she snipped through the sleeves and straps of her shirt and bra, then through the leg holes of her shorts and underwear. She tossed the shears onto the nightstand and resumed the altered chest compressions.

Without the waistband of her shorts in the way, Ginnie’s stomach popped and rippled. Holly glanced at her phone to see how much time she had left; thirty seconds. She stopped compressions and pressed her fingers into Ginnie’s femoral pulse.

Ginnie’s heart hammered beneath her fingertips. Holly slid her fingers further south, parted Ginnie’s thighs, and swept her fingertips through the wetness she knew she’d find there. Leaning over, Holly whispered in her ear. “I knew you’d be wet, kitten.”

Then she gave her another pair of breaths and pressed the “analyzing” button on the soundboard.

“Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient. Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient.”

Holly slipped out of her shorts and dropped them on the floor. She wasn’t wearing underwear. 

“No shock advised. Resume CPR for two minutes.”

“Come on, kitten! Give me something I can work with! One, two, three…” Holly tried to make the compressions even bouncier, making Ginnie’s body rock as she worked. Ginnie lay limp, her right arm visible beside her body, fingers curled limply.

To Holly’s surprise, Ginnie’s other hand moved, fingers running up the inside of Holly’s thigh. The rest of her body remained limp, but the fingers glided higher until they touched Holly’s own wetness . Ginnie slipped her fingers inside of her. Gasping, Holly spread her knees wider, giving Ginnie more access as she continued to perform modified CPR.

Holly leaned over, panting, before she dragged in a breath to give to Ginnie. She inflated her lungs twice. As she resumed compressions, Ginnie’s thumb found her clit.

The sensations were heaven. Her hands on Ginnie’s chest, thrusting her down against the CPR board. The sounds Ginnie made as the air escaped her lungs. The look of her mostly limp body draped over the CPR board, breasts quivering and her stomach rippling with each compression. The feeling of Ginnie’s fingers inside of her and her thumb massaging her swollen clit.

Holly moaned as she counted, her breath coming hard. She took them through another few cycles, then reached over and tapped another button on her smartphone screen.

“Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient.” This time, Ginnie’s fingers pumped in and out of her while they waited, a third joining the two already buried inside of her. “Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient.

Holly impatiently tapped another button. “Shock advised. Charging. Do not touch patient.” As a high-pitched whine filled the air, Holly gave Ginnie a handful of forceful, bouncy compressions. She felt Ginnie remove her fingers. “Shock advised. Charging. Do not touch patient. Press the shock button. Do not touch the patient.”

“Alright, Ginnie! This is it! Clear!”

Ginnie bowed up, her spine briefly arching off the CPR board. As soon as her body relaxed, Holly pressed the “Shock delivered, resume CPR for two minutes” button and began pumping Ginnie’s chest again. Ginnie slipped her fingers back inside of Holly and started pumping hard and fast, grinding upward with her palm.

Holly couldn’t count now, moaning over Ginnie, the sound of her own moisture squelching in her ears. She kept bouncing over Ginnie, well past thirty, until her orgasm swept over her.

Ginnie

The compressions were making her chest ache, and the rush of air in and out of her was making her lightheaded. Still, she didn’t want to stop. Her eyes were fully open now, gazing up at Holly as she drove her into the mattress. Ginnie watched in delight as Holly’s face changed, her lips opening and her head tipping back. The compressions finally stopped as Holly let out a loud, low moan and pulsated around Ginnie’s fingers. Holly shuddered and braced herself on the mattress, leaning down to give Ginnie a gasping, sloppy kiss.

“Ohh my God.” Holly said, her legs shaking as Ginnie withdrew her fingers. “Ginnie...”

She took a series of deep breaths, coming down slowly. Then Holly asked: “What would you like to happen now, Ginnie?” She ran her hand down Ginnie’s body and cupped her sex.

Ginnie trembled inside, both from Holly’s touch and the idea of putting into words what she wanted. She gazed up at Holly, taking in how lovely she looked, naked and flushed, hair slightly mussed. Finally, as Holly traced lazy circles around her clit, Ginnie said: “I want to touch myself while you bring me back.”

Holly leaned over to kiss Ginnie again. “Anything, kitten.”

Ginnie reached down, her fingers replacing Holly’s. She spread her legs but let the rest of her body relax, head tipping back just as Holly reached for her face. Holly was gentler now, closing her nose with a softer grip and holding her chin in place with her fingertips. Her full lips created a seal over Ginnie’s mouth and then her warm breath puffed out Ginnie’s cheeks before sinking down her airway and into her lungs. Ginnie moaned on the exhale, bending her leg to give herself better access. Another breath from Holly, as Ginnie dipped her fingers into her own arousal and then trailed them over her nub.

Holly moved over her, shifting so that her hands were stacked over Ginnie’s sternum and her arms were pressing her breasts together. She began pumping in the same bouncy rhythm, her voice clear and confident as she counted. “One, two, three, four…”

Ginnie circled her clit in the same rhythm, her huffs of air coming out more like quick moans. “Unh, unh, unh…” She felt her stomach pop each time Holly’s hands pressed down, let her head wobble side to side.

“…twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…” 

Holly’s hands felt wonderful pressed between her breasts, shifting her sternum slightly over and over and over again. Ginnie knew she wouldn’t last long like this, not with the tingling sensations running back and forth between her chest and her clit. She brought her right leg up, knee bent and toes curled, giving her access to slide her middle finger inside herself. She ground her palm down and her hips up, panting as she writhed.

Holly bent to give her breaths, spending a few seconds kissing her sensually before inflating her lungs. She reached down and massaged Ginnie’s chest, fingers concentrating on her nipples as they rose with a second, third, and fourth breath. Ginnie couldn’t keep up the pretense of being unconscious now, both hands moving between her thighs as Holly pumped her chest again. “One, two, three…”

“Oh! Don’t stop!” Ginnie gasped. “Don’t stop!”

“Come for me, kitten! Ten, eleven, twelve…”

Her body rocking with the bouncy compressions, Ginnie came, her back arching and pressing her chest up against Holly’s hands. Her legs shook, and she gave a keening cry, one that was quickly swallowed up by Holly’s mouth. Holly broke the kiss to give her another breath, which tipped Ginnie into another series of spasms. Her body quivered as she laid there gasping, suddenly weak. She felt Holly pull the CPR board and her ruined clothes out from beneath her.

Then Holly gathered her in her arms, pulling the blanket up from the foot of the bed to cover them both. Ginnie clung to her, breathing hard. Holly rubbed her back in slow circles, whispering in her ear.

“Shh, kitten. Just take a deep breath. You did so well.” Holly reached down and pressed her fingertips into Ginnie’s thigh crease. “Your heart is beating so fast. Let it relax. Just breathe.”

“Holly,” Ginnie started, only to find she couldn’t remember what she wanted to say. “Holly…”

“I know, kitten.” Holly leaned back, her hand coming between them to trace the red marks between Ginnie’s breasts. “I hope I didn’t bruise you.”

“Don’t mind,” Ginnie said quickly, her mind slowly gathering itself into a semblance of order. “Worth it.”

“Thank you for doing that with me.” Holly pulled her close again, pressing them skin to skin and kissing her forehead.

“I trust you,” Ginnie felt herself relaxing, her heart rate slowing. “I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone like this before.”

Holly was silent, so silent that Ginnie wriggled and pulled back to see her face. Holly looked anxious, her cheeks pink and her eyes wide.

“What’s…” Ginnie was the one rubbing Holly’s back now. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No!” Holly exclaimed, shaking her head vehemently. “You’re wonderful. It’s me. Ginnie, I want to tell you something, but I’m nervous.”

Ginnie pulled her close again. “Do we need to sit up? You can tell me anything.”

Holly took a sharp breath, her breasts swelling, their soft skin pressed against each other. She slipped her leg over Ginnie’s, pulling her even closer. “Ginnie…”

Ginnie bit back whatever words she was going to say and waited, focusing on the movements of Holly’s body as she breathed. Her ribcage expanding, her belly rounding and deflating. The quiet sound of the air exiting her mouth before being pulled back in. She trailed her fingertips up and down Holly’s spine, reveled in her soft skin.

“I love you, Ginnie,” Holly said. She trembled in Ginnie’s arms and drew a deep breath as though to say something else. She didn’t, however, lapsing into silence.

Ginnie realized she didn’t feel surprised, anxious, or worried. She didn’t feel trapped or turned off, or empty like she had when girlfriends had told her this in the past. She didn’t even think she needed twenty-four hours to process like she often did. She felt warm, protective, and protected. Happy. Feelings she could identify without having to look at her therapist’s feelings wheel.

Ginnie squeezed her girlfriend tight. “I love you, too, Holly.”

--

Their story will continue soon.

[maladyfair]

There's a green botchy glaze overlaid to my vision, changing the texture and hue of the world like I'm being forced to exist at one end of a child's kaleidoscope. The patterns moving and shifting, being rotated around my awareness in a funhouse of reality. My ears have tuned half way into a radio station that shouldn’t exist, garbled voices in the distance shadowed by static that extends half way inside of me and manifests as pins and needles filling up the insides of my limbs.

"nnng" something has stolen my voice, or perhaps I gave it and don't remember - I don't remember where I am. I don't remember what it was that held my attention just mere moments ago but it feels important. It feels like walking into a room with purpose and forgetting what you came for except I've also forgotten where I came from and where I'm going to.

I can taste pennies.

________

"baby?" you keep your voice low, gentle, the attempted taming of a wild animal inside of my mind. A creature out of control, unable to be domesticated or soothed. Epilepsy is the feral cat that showed up in our lives and never seems to leave for long.

You stroke your warm fingers down my cheek, over barely twitching muscles and past unfocused wide eyes deviated off to my right. A second of hesitation and then you decide the doctors don't know what they're asking of you, you refuse to leave me floating in space when I'm like this; you'll anchor me into your arms - risk of small flailing hands be damned. Making sure my little medical cart is within reaching distance you sit yourself down on the couch next to me and slip an arm around the back of my limp form, lifting me off the arm of the sofa I've slumped over and laying me up against your chest.

"There we are, angel" You know the likelihood of me hearing you let alone understanding your words is low right now but It calms you to keep communication open, just in case. A soft flannel is folded and you slide it between my cheek and your chest, keeping my face tilted to the side as I always drool during my episodes and one of the most vital aspects of my care is ensuring I can't choke or aspirate any of it while I'm unable to swallow. Strands of hair are laying over my pale face so you brush them aside tenderly, taking a quick glance to the side at your phone that has been running a timer for the duration of this episode. 2 Minutes, not bad just yet.

But even my 'not bad' comes with struggle, from where it's pressed between us you feel my smart watch buzz and it prompts you to reach to the cart and clip a small oximeter onto the index finger of my free hand that you have a view of, limp and twitching every second or so. There's a pause while the little device reads my vitals and then flashes them on screen, it starts beeping, a shrill unmissable regular alarm in time with each quickened beat of my heart. 110bpm 87%O2. It's worrying but it's also expected, this is how it goes.

You follow the clear thin tubing of my nasal cannula down to the oxygen concentrator next to where you've settled with me and with the practice of someone who has done this countless times before take the end tubing of an oxygen mask and swap the two out. You don't bother to remove my cannula, instead dropping the end and focusing on the mask. You use the now damp flannel to wipe the wetness from my cheek and press the mask to my face, stretching the elastic over the back of my head and bringing your now free hand to my back. You start rubbing soothing circles over my lungs and trying to encourage my weak sporadic little gasps of air.

"there we are" eyes glued to the little digital display attached to my finger, watching my O2 climb back over 90%.

Four minutes.

"mmmmnnn" another little moan, lashes fluttering as short spastic movements have me shuddering in your arms for a moment. The end of my NG tube becomes dislodged from where I tend to tuck it behind my ear and you quickly move it back for me and then reach for my case of rescue medication doses, opening the pack calmly and sitting it on the arm of the couch within grasping distance.

"You're okay baby, come back to me" you press a kiss to my forehead, "it's nearly over..."

And it is, the episode blessedly stops short of five minutes and you're able to let out a sign of relief as the tension in my muscles releases, the spasms stop and my eyes roll back to centre even if they're unfocused and I'm clearly not conscious. You wait a few seconds for me to breathe again and when I don’t, pull my shoulder back so my chest is exposed and you're able to bring your knuckles to the bony centre of my sternum. You rub purposefully there for no more than two or three seconds, observing the reflexive spasm I have. It works, it always does when I'm apenic after episodes, my drool covered lips part further and my weary body drags in a deep breath that gurgles just a little.

"Good girl" you hum, rocking me slowly back and forth in your arms, "you did it, baby. It's over, you can rest now"

You wonder how many more times we will have to endure this routine today… but it’s alright, no matter the frequency, you know you'll never leave my side.

[maladyfair]

Spending a little time braced and cathed tonight. Been missing these moments since work has been so busy. Hoping to get back to having more of my medical needs met & sharing progress in the new year 🖤

[maladyfair]

Sara barely opened her eyes. Her body felt alien, heavy, and unresponsive. The bright light of the hospital room cut into her gaze. An oxygen mask was tightly pressed against her face. Her chest rose and fell with visible effort. Fear gripped her more and more. She tried to remember what happened, but her thoughts were muddled. She felt helpless and alone.

Sara's gaze stopped on two female figures in white coats. They leaned over her, whispering soothing words. Sara tried to make out their faces through her half-conscious state but saw only blurry outlines. Sara noticed the gleam of metal instruments in their hands. These were two doctors... not nurses. "Intubation," she heard muffled.

The doctors, having put on sterile gloves, leaned over Sara. Their faces were serious. "Sara, we need to act quickly. Your lips have turned grey, and your breathing has become erratic. Even the oxygen mask isn't helping anymore, and we have to move to more invasive methods."

The other doctor continued... "Soon you won't be able to breathe on your own. So, we only have one option. After the injection, you'll be in a coma. Then we'll perform the intubation. You'll be completely connected to an artificial apparatus. Of course, you won't be able to eat or drink – we'll insert a nasogastric tube. Also, necessary catheters will be attached to your body."

Sara was in panic. She understood that without the artificial apparatus, her condition would deteriorate rapidly and could lead to a fatal outcome. Every minute counted. The doctors exchanged glances. "Everything's ready," one quietly said. The other took a syringe with a clear liquid and brought it to Sara's vein.

One of the doctors took Sara's hand and gently stroked it. The other prepared the intubation instruments. Sara's heart began to pound in her throat. She nodded, but her eyes were filled with anxiety. She felt the needle pierce her skin, and warmth spread through her veins, bringing a slight numbness. Her eyelids grew heavy, her thoughts jumbled, and everything around began to blur into a haze...

The doctor carefully opened Sara's mouth and introduced the laryngoscope, illuminating the path with bright light reflecting off the mucous membrane. The other doctor took the endotracheal tube, checked its integrity, and quickly, but with utmost caution, inserted it through the open vocal cords into the trachea. Then she secured it with a cuff, which she carefully inflated to ensure a tight seal and prevent air leakage.

A plastic holder, made from soft material that fit snugly against Sara's face without causing discomfort, was placed to stabilize the tube. The doctors checked the correct placement of the tube by listening to the lungs with a stethoscope.

Ventilation parameters were set on the monitor, showing all necessary indicators: breathing rate, air volume, oxygen level. The doctors adjusted the ventilation mode according to Sara's condition, entering the data into the system. The machine started its work, rhythmically supplying air to the patient's lungs, accompanied by a soft noise that now became part of the room's background sound.

The monitor showed that blood oxygen saturation began to stabilize, and the heart rate returned to normal, indicating the procedure's success.

The doctors spoke to each other, their voices quiet. "The nurses will insert the nasogastric tube," said one, looking at the monitor readings. "Sara will be intubated for quite some time. However, we'll probably have to perform a tracheostomy on her," added the other, with a note of concern in her voice. Before leaving the room, the doctors checked Sara's condition once more, ensuring all parameters were stable and the equipment was working correctly. Then they left for the next patient.

After the intubation, nurses entered the room. They inserted the nasogastric tube for feeding and a catheter for the bladder. They also connected a peripheral venous catheter for administering medications. All actions were performed quickly and professionally, leaving Sara under full medical supervision.

Every day, doctors visited her, checking vital signs, adjusting the machines, changing medications through the peripheral catheter, and ensuring care for all the connected tubes. However, after several days, the doctors decided to remove the nasogastric tube because Sara needed another surgery - they were to install a GJ tube. This feeding tube allows food to be delivered to the stomach. The doctors understood that only a tracheostomy would provide more stable and long-term respiratory support.

The operation went successfully, but Sara did not wake up. In the room where Sara lay, there was silence, only interrupted by the hum of the machines sustaining her life. The doctors decided to keep her on life support, performing all procedures until some sign of improvement appeared or until another decision was made.

Maybe today she will open her eyes...

[maladyfair]

Rolling over in the early hours of the morning, sun barely peaking its first rays through the curtains at the side of our bed, you can hear a sound in the back of your mind. It sounds like a beeping, some kind of alarm? But it’s so early.. you stifle a yawn and lift your head, scanning the room trying to locate the annoying noise. Around half a second before your eyes land on the source it dawns on you, your mind flashes to yesterday morning in our bathroom. You’re laughing and watching me as I slowly go through the process of detaching the portable heart monitor I’ve been wearing, reaching out to help me with the last few wires and quickly hitting the button to silence the shrill alarm as the little device thinks it registers a fatal disruption in its owners heart rate.. Back in the present moment your own heart rate shoots through the roof as you spot me laying slumped against our bedroom wall. One hand is clutching at my heaving chest and the other gripping one of your slippers, seconds away from using the last of my energy to throw it across the room in an attempt wake you up.

“fuck- fuck! It's okay, I’ve got you baby” you’re scrambling out of bed faster than you realise it and falling to your knees at my side. I’m pale and sweating, you can see my hand shaking as I reach for you. You don’t think I have enough control over myself to speak and besides, the only sounds you can register in that moment are the shrill beeping of my monitor and my desperate gasping. You plunge your fingers up and under my jaw into my neck to locate my carotid pulse and as you expected you can feel my heart racing out of control. “Phone?” You ask. It’s hard to register in the moment but you’ve fallen into emergency mode. Fully in control of the situation, we’ve practiced for this possible extremely unideal scenario.

I nod towards my bedside table and you run for it, typing in my passcode and bringing up the app connected to my monitor. It shows you exactly what you thought it would, what we have been monitoring for a few weeks now, my little pump racing unchecked in a-fib. But this time pushing it's upper limits and dancing around the 200bpm range. You pocket the phone and go to our closet, taking out a portable aed, a small oxygen set up and coming back to my side. In this moment you’re unnervingly calm, trying to provide some sense of control to my panicking mind as a feeling of impending doom spreads through my body. “Alright, we need to cardiovert you sweetheart” as you speak you’re moving through setting up the device quickly, “it’s okay, I’m going to be right here with you. But your little heart is going to exhaust itself if we let it carry on like this”. You lean over and give me a small kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of my trembling fingers. My eyes are tracking you but responding is out of my reach, at this point you notice my lips are pale and a little blue, “I know you’re out of breath, I’ve got you”

You don’t even bother with responses or pausing for communication, instead grabbing a small pair of fabric scissors and making a cut in the top of the pink silk mini night dress I’m wearing and ripping it open the rest of the way exposing my breasts to the cool morning air. Where there would usually be a joke or moment of appreciation is now complete focus as you gather me to your chest and manoeuvre my body so I’m laying flat on our bedroom carpet. As you guide me down with one hand cradling the back of my head you have to detach from how weak I am. My eyes are wide and terrified and you can see waning consciousness there as well, you find yourself longing to take me into your arms and just stay like that holding each other through the fear. But you don’t. Instead you turn on the aed and position the two pads over my heaving chest, smoothing a hand roughly over each to secure them properly in place. As you let the machine take what readings it needs you turn to the supply of compressed oxygen and connect up a small green translucent mask, opening the flow and tenderly pressing it to my face while you secure the elastic around the back of my head.

There’s a nagging worry in the back of your mind telling you you’re not sure how long it took you to wake up to the sound of my alarm going off. However that train of thought is quickly derailed by the aed notifying you that it’s ready to discharge the small jolt you hope will be the only thing needed. “Okay baby” you give my hand another squeeze but you can see I’m slowly drifting further and further into an altered state of consciousness, my eyes now glassy and far away, “just one little shock and it’s going to be over, I promise” you let go of my hand, double check nothing is touching me like you were trained and then press the flashing button.

For such a small shock you are taken aback and a little scared of the reaction it produces, my entire chest jerking upwards and the current seemingly travelling down my arms as they pull up into my chest. A pained groan spills from my pale lips and then I take a deep gasp in. Your eyes are immediately dragged back to the aed and relief balloons through your chest at the sight of sinus tachycardia of only 140bpm. It’s at this point you realise you too are shaking as you go back to my side, linking our fingers together you hold my gaze as you dial 911,

“that’s my girl”

[maladyfair]

You lift my weak little body off the floor, cradling me in your arms and lay me down on our bed. I’m gasping for air through pale blue lips, eyes wide and panicked and my chest jerking with the effort of taking in air. You stroke my hair and remain calm during my emergency, kissing me briefly on the forehead before you jog over to my bedside table and rummage inside of it for the blue inhaler I keep there. Once you have it you come over to me and gently lift me so I’m sitting upright leaning against the headboard of our bed. You sit next to me and slide an arm around my back, holding me securely while your free hand brings the little blue device to my lips, “three, two, one.. breathe baby” You can hear the restricted wheezing sound as I do my best to follow your instructions and then hold my breath as I’m meant to after taking my medication. “Good girl” your words bring a smile to my face even despite the dizziness and the burning pain in my chest. I wheeze out an exhale and as if you can read my mind I feel a large warm hand over my sternum rubbing soothing circles, “I’ve got you… okay time for another. Three.. two.. one.. breathe”

[maladyfair]

desperate comfort.

“oh god, oh god, stay with me!”

“keep your eyes open! you’re okay! damn it, you’re okay!”

“i’ve got you, i’ve got you, i’ve got you, i’ve got you— it’s alright, i’ve got you!”

“i know it hurts. i know, honey, it’s okay.”

“it’s all gonna be fine, just stay with me, just stay awake, please!”

“i love you. i love you so much, whatever happens, just remember that, okay?”

“stop, don’t talk like that, you’re gonna be fine! i wouldn’t lie to you!”

[maladyfair]

come with me to my specialist appointments, hold my hand while my heart is racing in my chest, give me my medications that you’ve memorised far better than I. Adjust how my oxygen cannula is sitting and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear in the process, make sure we have monitoring set up at night to alert us of episodes; keep my little heart safe 🥰

[maladyfair]

Medically complex patient X Doting Caregiver significant other is the best medfet pairing and no I will not be taking questions on the matter 🫶

[maladyfair]

CARETAKING DIALOGUE IDEAS

“let’s get you into some dry clothes”

“keep it elevated”

“I’m right here if you need anything”

“you don’t want that getting infected”

“you won’t even feel a thing”

“I just wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing”

“you must be hungry”

“be careful, it’s hot”

“you can wear mine”

“I’ll go get something cold for your head”

“show me where it hurts”

“try to relax”

“I wish I could take your pain away”

“I’ll get you another blanket”

“I know you don’t like it, but it will help you feel better”

“don’t pick at it”

“this should only hurt a bit”

“that’s it, you’re doing great”

“we need to get some ice on that asap”

“don’t be embarrassed, it happens to all of us”

“I want you to be comfortable”

“I’ll have you back to normal in no time”

“the medicine should start kicking in soon”

“I’ll let you get some rest”

“drink plenty of water”

“I need to check your temperature again”

“you don’t have to get up, I’ll get it for you”

“you can squeeze my hand if you need to”

“crying is only going to make you feel worse”

“I brought you a ‘get well soon’ present”

NOTE: Please be respectful when using medical scenarios in your writing. I know these topics can be fun to write / read about sometimes, but illness and injury exist outside of our fun, fiction, and fantasies. Real people deal with them every day, and the reality isn’t always as romantic / sensual / angsty / cute / etc as what’s depicted in fictional works. Please keep that in mind before, during, and after you start writing / reading about them. Thank you.

[maladyfair]

so I forgot to talk about this but just fyi it’s entirely realistic for your whumpee get lightheaded/almost pass out even if they’re good at dealing with pain and/or not particularly panicky.

sometimes your body just reacts even when you can rationalize that you’re fine (even after the fact) because your adrenaline just TANKS. insanely frustrating to deal with, but also insanely good potential for situations to put a whumpee in. :^)

brought to you by being a medical assistant who has a pretty good pain tolerance and is not easily squeamish, but still almost passing out after getting a thumb abscess drained.

[maladyfair]

Head injuries & passing out!!!

Some realistic aspects of whump you’re probably glossing over/conveying incorrectly Part 2

just some realistic medical accuracies that will bolster your whump writing, and the category is...

the dazed and confused:

a person can experience a lapse in consciousness or lucidity when they receive a traumatic head injury or their bodies are put under severe stress by something like an extreme condition or nasty illness. both symptoms can occur from many different injuries/ailments ranging from blunt force head trauma, drug use, inadequate sleep, malnourishment, physical exhaustion... the option are really endless and not much is out of the realm of possibility in regards to being medically accurate.

a rapid increase in blood pressure is the nervous system’s vasovagal syncope response, also commonly referred to as passing tf out. fainting itself isn’t inherently harmful or dangerous if whumpee gets themselves to the ground before its lights out. pretty much unless the whumpee is in a hostile environment where they don’t have access to food, water, or medical supplies to care for their wounds or sickness, they will be ok and should come to rather quickly!

if the whumpee is exhausted, whether it is because they have physically exhausted themselves by working too hard, not taking the time to properly recover after a fight, disregarding healthy sleeping and eating habits, ignoring a cold or viral bug because they think they can just tough it out etc. they can function in a haze for a pretty solid amount of time before their blood pressure will eventually plummet where the blood vessels relax to reduce resistance in the flow and all of the blood in their body races to their head at once to try and quell whatever is wrong. this will probably come at a breaking point or at the mention of exerting themselves intensely once more. they might be faced with a flight of stairs, or the alarms are going off for another mission, or their superior won’t end the meeting and they didn’t succeed in grabbing a seat before they were all taken. before this they would’ve been sluggish in their movements and sick or tired-looking. they would probably have to ask someone to repeat themselves because their brain is lagging and they can’t grasp whatever’s been said on the first go. they also would experience moments of lightheadedness that would stop them in their tracks and have them searching for purchase on a nearby wall or table as they ride out the blood rush in their ears that is similar to what you might get from standing up too quickly, except this would happen randomly. they might not have a large appetite that day and be uncharacteristically thirsty. there will be moments the whumpee or caregiver finds them swaying unsteadily where they’d be urged to sit down before they collapse. the whumpee would be grumpy about this but they’d listen because at this point they are aware they could very well pass out. too many moments like these and they actually do.

the textbook first aid response is to raise their feet above their heart by either lifting them or elevating them on a higher surface, this gets blood flowing on a path of least resistance to the brian and will help them recover quicker. they should stay on the ground or move into the recovery position on their side until they feel better, then they should move into a sitting position and acclimate to that before trying to stand. they will probably be weak and shakey after this and should go rest and eat something before turning in for the night.

if the whumpee has a head injury, passing out is very dangerous and a type of triage would be to keep them awake until they are evaluated properly. concussions occur when the brain quite literally rattles around in the head a tad too aggressively. this can be caused by violent shaking or what might even be considered a minor blow. think two football players clonking helmets and how when their bodies are thrown back by the force, their brains would be jolted forward in their skulls. this can result in pretty sever concussions that impede cognitive functions without drawing a drop of blood, occurring even within the confines of reinforced protective gear. confusion and disorientation as well as an unpleasant or throbbing pressure would be the first symptoms to present themselves with this type of blunt head injury. memory loss and an overall altered perception of reality could be documented for the first stage of recovery, short term events would be lost on the whumpee and they might find themselves suddenly having no clue what day it is or where they are. they would be sensitive to light and noise and any sort of intense movement depending on the severity of the concussion. and any increase in such would make them dizzy, nauseated, or even lightheaded.

the window of danger for falling asleep or fainting after getting concussed usually passes after the 24 hour mark post injury. the caregiver would likely have to wait up all night shaking awake a lethargic and possibly incoherent whumpee, maybe even taking shifts with others until they don’t think the whumpee would be at risk of not waking up. this type of injury might take months to fully heal from and is very inconvenient and uncomfortable for the whumpee leaving space for a lot of additional hurt and beautiful moments of fussing over/comforting.

head injuries that result in wounds will bleed a horrifying amount for even the tiniest of cuts, the same goes for facial wounds. this is because they are like a million blood vessels up there to get more blood to the brain. so if you have a heavily bleeding head wound... the blood flowing there will be leaving a lot quicker than the body can replenish it and can delve into a dangerous amount of blood loss pretty quickly. any blow to the head will jar you temporarily and leave you virtually incapacitated even if you don’t fall down or lose consciousness. think being paralyzed in sudden and excruciating pain after hitting your funny bone, it passes quickly, but for a solid minute you’re definitely seeing red. a whumpee that gets their head split open can keep fighting on adrenaline as long as they aren’t rendered unconscious right off the bat, but the longer they rely on energy reserves, the more blood they are going to have lost and the harder they’ll crash once they’re safe or the fight is over. the whumpee along with whoever is around them after they receive this hit might think they are relatively okay since they didn’t collapse on impact, but crashing will look like stumbling back to the mode of transport, not being able to stand up after they finish the bad guy off, staring off at nothing while a wave of malaise washes over them once they look at the blood that comes away from the wet spot on the side of their head, etc.

shock is also a silent killer and plays large part in the dazed and confused bit of a flesh wound like this. any type of wound that bleeds for more than a minute will be accompanied by an assortment of shock symptoms like trembling, becoming cold, sudden weakness, incoherence, all to varying severities that coincide with the amount of blood loss sustained, so once again the longer the whumpee pushes or avoids treatment the worse it will be. immediate triage would be to have the whumpee sit and keep them warm with body heat or a blanket as well as keep steady pressure on the wound, additionally it would be ideal to get a bit of sugar in them and have them sip water to calm them down and keep their mind level. remaining clam and warm is really the most important aspects of staving off the worse symptoms of shock like slowed heart rate and shallowed breathing, which isn’t passing out exactly, more like their body slowly shutting down. a whumpee with this type of injury also wouldn’t really pass out in the dramatic way you think of if they didn’t on initial impact, it’d look more like their legs giving out in the middle of their stride, their weight slowly increasing in a friend’s arms during a congratulatory hug, or rushing for the nearest seat after getting a head rush and suddenly very woozy.