#CPR procedure

[drraghu1]

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fool's Errand Pt 11

Part (11) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

It is 1am. I stayed up waaayyy to late to finish this, but if I didn't get it out now, it would have to wait until Monday, and I really didn't want you make ya'll wait.

This one's a little rough, loves; so grab an emotional support cock(tail).

Btw - little aside! For anyone who no long wants to be tagged, feel free to shoot me a dm or you can submit another taglist just saying to be untagged. For those that want to be tagged, please remember to give me your tumblr name. I've received a few email addresses and several names that don't seemed to link up to anyone. Sorry, but there's not much I can do with that ❤️

Warnings: heavy into medical procedures; a lot of grief, guilt, thoughts of self-doubt; near-death experience; blood; gore; needles; cpr; body horror; eye injuries; profanity. I think that's is, but, As always, please let me know if I've missed tagging something!

WC: 3,867

I used to love forests. Agamar boasted a rich abundance of biomes, but the farmlands where I was raised were far from anything so wild; thus, the thought of finding myself lost in unending stretches of trees so tall and numerous as to grant an artificial night to those trapped within their shadow was mesmerizing in a way that forgave any thought toward what danger those shadows might conceal. I knew better now.

I’d lost Emmy while flying over a forest; the scent of campfire smoke dancing just beneath that suffocating tang of fuel. I’d nearly lost Tech to the dangerous fungus thriving in the rokna trees of Endor. And then my brother… No. Forests no longer held that tantalizing mystique. They were beautiful. And they were deadly. And, as I stood between two of the countless, towering trees mere meters from the still forms atop the ramp of the Marauder, I realized how much I’d come to hate them.

My entire body was shaking with adrenaline and fear and rage, wide eyes darting from the dark armor to the crying girl, pistol still clenched in her trembling hands.

“Sweetie… I need you to put down the gun. Okay?” I murmured, the thin vail of calm forcing my words into something far removed from the desperation simmering beneath them. Her gaze darted to the weapon held before her as though just as terrified to find herself still holding it as she was at the thought of letting it go.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just… just set it down.” I pressed, some ancient, feral instinct forbidding me from shouting at her hesitation. One hand slowly pulled away from the grip, but it was the other one that still had a finger pressed far too snugly against the trigger, and I wondered if she’d ever held a gun before.

“That’s good… You’re doing great… Look at me, honey.” I whispered, surprised at how quickly her attention snapped back to me. “It’s okay. Just put it down.” Her fingers began to loosen. The instant the weapon that looked far too large in her hands began to fall, I darted forward. I wanted to scream at her; to berate her for what damage she might have caused, for the delay her fear had forced between my men and the care they desperately needed, but I didn’t. I raced forward and instantly locked her to my chest, quiet shhh’s leaving on barely controlled breaths as I carried her rapidly into the ship, stopping only when the outside world was hidden by those worn, metal walls and quickly settled her atop Hunter’s bunk.

“Alright, baby; I want you to stay right here for me, okay?” It wasn’t quite an order, but it was far from a request, hands shaking as I swept the hair from her face to ensure she was looking at me. Snot covered her upper lip as tears flooded her cheeks, her entire body convulsing with sobs, but the small nod she managed in response was enough for me to quickly press my lips to her forehead before turning on my heel and sprinting back outside.

It was Hunter’s pistol. I kicked the damn thing inside if only to get it out of my way before dropping to my knees beside them, searching for signs of blasterfire or crushed plastoid or breath, and finding neither.

No. That wasn’t right. Crosshair’s torso was still shifting beneath short, jilted gasps. But Hunter…

“Hunter? Hunter, can you hear me?!” I didn’t wait for a reply I knew wasn’t coming as I struggled to untangle them, belatedly realizing he’d collapsed while carrying his brother up the ramp.

“Cross? Hey-hey, you with me?” I asked, begged as I eased him onto his back, but his body merely flinched with shallow breaths, faint grunts far too akin to whimpers catching on trembling lips. But he was breathing. He was hurt, but he was alive. My heart jolted as I quickly threw myself at Hunter, fingers slipping beneath the sharp notch of his jaw as my other hand quickly yanked at his helmet.

Numb. There’s a quiet that comes in moments like this, born of hard-learned necessity as even a taste of the emotions hiding just beyond the distant storm would bring with them doubt. Hesitation. And when even a second of such hesitation could be the difference between life and death, if takes very few mistakes to learn how to hide oneself in that quiet, to let hands move and thoughts rage with a careful detachment.

My body no longer shook as I wrestled the heavy chest plate from his limp form. I didn’t look at the deathly pale skin that gleamed beside the faded half-skull tattoo, nor at half-lidded eyes that were so violently wrong without laugh lines dancing at the corners or that brooding intensity as his mind raced to find solutions to impossible problems. In that moment, he was a number. He was a list of vitals and pre-existing conditions and a rapidly evolving treatment plan. He was patient 1, triaged and assisted and listed by priority, and if I held to that as I should have, I would have let him die, but I watched with a pointed lack of emotion as I finally freed him of that damned armor, his body falling back to the ramp with a thud I couldn’t bring myself to worry over in the wake of how wrong that stillness was.

It was a thoughtless action, the way my fingers twined together as my hands stacked atop each other above his chest. I needed to move them – both of them – out of the risk of enemy fire. Hell, I needed to move for that same reason; needed to get Hunter on level ground to maximize the efficiency of my compressions; needed to check for lung capacity and inevitably insert another chest tube; needed to see just how bad the chemical burns still eating into Crosshair’s eyes were and try to figure out some way to help him. I could still hear the girl crying and wasn’t surprised to see her standing at the very corner of the hallway, peaking out just enough to watch us, and I’d never felt so impossibly, irrevocably alone.

Curses spitting from my lips, I abandoned the half-completed count of compressions and threw myself to my feet. Couldn’t get deep enough… The tantalizing wealth of muscle I’d so shamelessly admired every time he’d see himself into my bed beneath the guise a massage that we both knew had nothing to do with pulled muscles or stiff joints, that breathtaking display of power that saw him so effortlessly through the endless missions and struggles of this war left his chest too stiff to readily yield beneath the too weak thrusts of my palms.

If I could get him inside – get him on a flat surface, then I could push harder, I could force his damn heart to beat and chase all threat of that encroaching chill from skin I so clearly remembered feeling like fire against mine.

“Honey, there’s a button on that interface, there. Can you press it – close the ramp?” I asked breathlessly as I began dragging Crosshair inside as well. A slightly louder groan caught in his throat making my heart drop. I barely noticed the girl dart forward, tiny hand nearly slamming onto the controls as movement returned to those long limbs.

“Shh, Cross, I’m right here, okay? I’m going to take care of you, but I have to help Hunter first.” If he heard me, if he heard the crippling apology that threatened to rend my breath into hiccuped gasps and rob me of that blessed detachment, he was too lost in a growing agony to offer any form of a response. My hand shifted beneath the desperate need to reach for him, to somehow ensure he knew I was there, but that would waste precious seconds I didn’t have, and I quickly spun back to Hunter, jaw tensing anew at the utter absence of life before me.

Airway. Breathing. Circulation. It was rote. Mindless. But something in me still died at how cold his lips felt against mine. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. And I nearly broke at how much effort it took to push even a whisper of breath into his lungs. Crosshair was starting to move, clawed hands reaching toward the black visor I only just realized was shattered, deep cracks spider-webbed across the dark crescent. If I looked, I could just make out slivers of skin between some of the larger cracks, but I couldn’t see enough to even guess toward the damage hidden within as I wrenched the medpack from my shoulders.

Hunter’s body rocked listlessly beneath the force it took to shove the chest tube between his lower ribs, expression void of the pain I’d never been so eager to see on his handsome face. What poured from the fresh wound was dark and thick and filled the small room with the heavy scent of copper and sick, and I refused to even look at it as I dragged the sheers down the front of his shirt, half ripping the fabric away in my haste.

I didn’t hesitate before arching my body over him and slamming my elbow into his chest, ignoring how the sound of ribs cracking beneath the strike was enough to make even Crosshair flinch, ruined helm shifting uselessly toward me for just a moment before that pain overruled his attention once more. My knee pads scrapped loudly against the metal grate as I pushed myself up enough to straddle Hunter’s waist, cupped hands returning to their position over his sternum.

“Crosshair… Cross, if you can hear me, you need to try to get that helmet off.” I panted, voice undulating with the rhythm of my entire body beating quickly against his brother’s chest. His head shifted again, the movement jerky and only barely noticeable, and I couldn’t imagine how the wet crunch, crunch, crunch that so perfectly marked the passage of time must have sounded in the dark, eyes surely blinded by whatever cruel thing had been used to cripple him.

“I know; I know, baby – I’ll help you as quickly as I can, but I need you to help, too.” I pressed on huffed, rapid breaths, relieved when his shaking fingers began groping at the rounded ridge following his jawline, but I couldn’t ignore how quickly that trembling was getting worse, the sound of air hissing through clenched teeth breaking between barely restrained groans that so wanted to be screams, and I realized that Hunter must have given him something stronger – something that managed to knock him out before I reached them, and it was rapidly fading.

But I couldn’t do anything for him. Not yet. Not until I managed to force some bit of life back into the man below me. Kriff, was I just wasting time? The longer I worked on Hunter, the more potential damage Crosshair suffered… I could only guess toward how much time had passed since his heart… how long he’d been down before I reached them… and the longer he’d been like this the greater the risk of…

No. No, no; I couldn’t think like that. Scowling at the way my hand was just beginning to shake again, I reached out to check for a pulse, straining to mediate my own breaths enough for me to actually feel for his heartbeat over the frantic racing of my own. Nothing… I quickly leaned down to push two more breaths into his lungs, wincing at the way his nose cracked slightly between my fingers as I pinched his nostrils shut.

“He’s… i-is he…” I could barely make out words through how shaky his breath was, and I instantly found myself wishing I hadn’t heard him at all.

“I’m doing everything I can for him, Crosshair; just focus on getting that helmet off, and I’ll try to get you more meds soon.” There was that careful detachment again, automatic response unhindered by the grief and panic I tried so hard to ignore.

“To-… told ‘im t… l-l’ve m…” I couldn’t think about the sob that robbed the strength from his voice, nor the hiccuped gasp that followed as his hands clawed over his ruined visor, my teeth grinding into the inside of my cheek to keep my own breath from breaking.

Still no pulse. The precious few seconds it took to dig into my bag once more made my skin crawl, some wretched whisper in the back of my head telling me everything that could go wrong, everything that I’d done wrong; that I wasn’t fast enough, strong enough; that I was killing him – that I was killing both of them.

Guilt made my stomach churn as a small drop of crimson marked where I’d nicked him with the razor as I rushed to clear enough hair from his chest for the electrodes. It was stupid. Such a tiny wound… and yet my eyes kept trying to return to it, as though I hadn’t just shoved a tube through his side, as though I hadn’t just broken several ribs to allow adequate compressions, as though the man beneath me wasn’t, by all medical standards, already dead.

The small device let out a warning trill, and I quickly jumped clear of him, waiting anxiously for the timer to finish. Hunter’s body seized beneath the violent surge of electricity, torso snapping up, spine locking in a tight arch. And then he crashed back to the metal grating, rocking listlessly from the momentum.

I didn’t wait for the AED to finish reassessing, fingers reaching for his throat the instant his back hit the floor. Whatever momentary lucidity had granted Crosshair the clarity of mind to mumble those heartbreaking words was gone, crushed beneath an agony no longer muted by whatever drugs Hunter had given him. His legs dragged uselessly against the metal beneath him, deep, keening groans occasionally breaking into a barked scream as he writhed in pain. And, still, there was no sign of life beneath my fingertips.

One more… I’d grant myself only one more moment of denial, one final attempt to bring him back…

“Dammit; come on, Hunter!” I didn’t mean to let the words escape me as I pounded against his chest. “Don’t you do this – don’t you kriffing dare do this!” I remembered the first time I’d performed CPR on a real person. “We need you, dammit! Come on!” The patient had already been pronounced. “Come back! Please, please, come back!” But residents were encouraged to “practice.” That knowledge that they were already dead, however, did nothing to relieve me of the sharp rush of adrenaline, the desperate urgency to somehow do better – be better… to save them… That knowledge did nothing to rid me of the consuming guilt of failure when I finally walked away.

I couldn’t silence the sob as I pressed my lips against his one last time, pushing the air from my own lungs into him with every unspoken plea and promise and curse forever forced into a silence I feared I’d regret until my own heart stopped as well.

Something beeped. Doubt robbed me of recognition. Fear forbade me from even looking. Barely ten percent of patients come back from something like this. Some horrible, broken part of me had accepted his death the instant I’d realized he had no pulse, but denial had granted me the strength to try anyway. Now, that denial refused to let my eyes fall back to the small device connected to his chest, but Crosshair was screaming, and the Senator’s daughter was crying, and there was too much at stake for even a moment to be lost for something so useless.

Still, I couldn’t understand the dancing line steadily making its way across the monitor. I’d seen it countless times before, but…

My chest bucked in a sharp gasp, body finally remembering how to move. In an instant, I was at Crosshair’s side, hands grabbing at his in an enraging struggle to finally rip that damned helmet off.

“Crosshair! Cross, baby, I’m going to help fix it, but you – ugh! – you have to… stop… fighting me!” I grunted, finally trapping one of his hands beneath my arm long enough to grab the ruined bucket. His scream turned desperate the instant the light reached him, and my stomach dropped. The skin around his eyes was scalded, red and oozing, and how could I possibly give him any words of reassurance that might offer even a breath of comfort in the face of those wounds?

I offered no warning before jabbing a hypo against his neck. He didn’t notice it anyway, lips wrenched clear of teeth gnashing around hitched gasps and feral cries he couldn’t begin to restrain.

“I’ve got you, Cross.” I murmured as those frenzied movements began to fail, one arm wrapping around his back to help guide him carefully to the floor while the other snatched for my med scanner with some futile hope that it might be able to identify whatever toxin was searing into his flesh. “That’s it, love; just breathe for me; okay?” I wasn’t sure if the drugs helped, or if they merely left him too weak to thrash anymore, and I wanted to shout apologies until my lungs gave out, but I didn’t turn away from the small scanner, eyes quickly studying every word that scrolled across the screen before dropping it to snatch my comm.

“Tech! Wrecker! Do you copy?!” I shouted, already pushing myself to my feet and sprinting toward the medbay.

“Yeah,” Wrecker answered barely a second later. “They okay?”

“I’m working on that,” I nearly cringed at the exhaustion in my voice, but quickly moved on. “I need something to neutralize an acid. Are you in a position where you can look this over?”

“Do you have an approximate idea of what the substance is?” Tech asked, words breathless in a way that made my guilt spike. I shouldn’t have to ask them… I should be able to figure this out myself… but the chemical equation dancing across the scanner was far too complex for me to work through in time.

“I’m sending it now.” I replied, fingers already flying over the scanner to share the readout.

“Oh.” I wasn’t surprised to hear the dread in Wrecker’s voice, but if he recognized the chemicals, then there was hope that he knew how to safely wash it away. “Yeah… think I can tell yuh what yuh need.”

Tech didn’t interrupt him. This wasn’t hardware or trivia or anatomy. This was chemistry. And, while I wouldn’t have second-guessed a word the pilot may have said, Wrecker’s knowledge was a matter of passion. The same interplay of atomic bonds and volatile reactions manipulated to detonate a building could be used to form acids powerful enough to melt through entire ships, and I trusted his word without a moment’s doubt. Still, the time it took to prepare the solution was torture, and I couldn’t run back through the ship fast enough to begin to ease that crippling guilt.

He was barely moving when I got back, shivering body curled onto his side, one hand clutching at his eyes while the other was locked around Hunter’s arm, and I felt the tears threaten to suffocate me as I realized he was too disorientated to recognize the steady rhythm still singing from the small monitor to understand that his brother was alive.

“Crosshair; hey-hey-hey, listen to me.” I murmured quickly, satchel of equipment dropping carefully to the floor as I rushed to his side. “He’s alright. Hunter’s alright, but I need to take care of you now.” If he heard me, he didn’t respond, and I didn’t waste additional time trying to explain.

My heart was racing, anticipation searing through my nerves like lightning. He wasn’t going to like this. Kriff, he wasn’t going to like this…

He barely flinched when I gently laid my hand on his forehead, but the instant the first drop of liquid touched his cheek, whatever illusion of weakness the meds granted was gone. His limbs lashed out in a frenzy of panicked rage, kicking himself away while his arms swiped toward me in a vicious attempt to push me back. Cursing, I spun out of his reach just long enough to regain my footing.

Any other day, I’d have no hope in holding him down, but the body can only withstand the degree of agony he’d been subjected to for so long before even his muscles began to fail, so when I pinned his arms at his sides, my own legs quickly wrapping around him in a powerful hold, I had just enough time to empty that first syringe entirely, flooding his face with the neutralizing fluid.

I knew it would burn at first, and my face twisted into a sympathetic scowl at the fresh cries of a hurt I couldn’t imagine ripping through his already raw throat, but by the time I was halfway through the second, his thrashing began to ease, jaw hanging open around sputtering coughs as he spat out what trace amounts of fluid accidentally slipped past his lips.

“Good.” I murmured, hand once more settled atop his brow in an effort to carefully keep him still. “I know; I know it hurts, but this is helping, right? It’s getting better?” I expected no response, and he offered none, but he didn’t need to. I could feel the tension slowly fading despite the occasional twitch and choked grunt.

“Honey, I need to help you open your eyes, now. I need to make sure we rinse all that gunk out.” I warned, and my heart ached at how quickly that tension returned. “I know, but we’ll go slow, okay?” Voice quiet, gentle in a way I could only hope he might understand, I whispered to him, thumb already moving to pull at his upper lid as my thighs tightened at the way his arms wrenched against me. His head thrashed, desperate to escape my touch, but I followed him with ease, relentless until a dozen empty syringes lay strewn about the cabin, tossed aimlessly that I might hurry on to the next.

“Almost done.” I breathed, but he’d already begun to fade, body only occasionally managing a weak flinch as I pushed the last of the solution over his other eye. That redness was still there, and only time would tell how well his eyes would heal… but the danger was over. I quickly coated the abused flesh in a generous layer of bacta before securing thick pads over his eyes with bandages.

They were alive. I could still see the steady rhythm of Hunter’s heartbeat scrawling atop the monitor beside him, and the cruel acid used to incapacitate Crosshair was neutralized. They were okay… Even the little girl had stopped crying, wide eyes watching me with an emotion I was far too exhausted to try to name as I staggered to my feet. Couldn’t leave them here… I’d get them to the medbay… get them settled… then I’d let myself breathe…

Next Chapter

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[yj-98]

my name is tim drake and i have one job to do in this world. my only job is to breathe twice into darla aquistas mouth for every fifteen times i compress her chest. back and forth. over and over. fifteen chest compressions, followed by two breaths, followed by another fifteen chest compressions. --eleven-twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen-- --and breathe. breathe. one-two-three-four-five-- never stopping, no matter how tired i get, because you dont give up until relieved by qualified medical help. thats the rule. and i know that qualified medical help isnt coming. not anytime soon. maybe not at all.

[starlightiing]

thoughts on cpr/restarting someone’s heart? would you ever write something with that?

I enjoy the concept of CPR in a FICTIONAL WORLD ONLY.

CPR is a horrific and terrifying thing to perform and to watch be performed on someone. It's incredibly violent and hopelessly desperate, and most of the time, it doesn't even work.

But in fanfics or in media I consume, yes, I do enjoy to see it/read it and I do write it sometimes as well.

One of my WIPS right now has a very tiny CPR scene in it, but I have written it in great detail in the past before. I don't write it super often, but I definitely dabble from time to time when I'm in the right state of mind to do so.

[farshootergotme]

I'll always hate how CPR (specifically the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation) has been so romanticized in fiction, portraying it as some kind of 'romantic kiss' that occurs between two love interests when it's actually used to save lives daily irl.

[lexlawuk]

Case Study: Bankruptcy Order Annulment Victory Following HMRC's Defective Service

We’ve achieved a significant victory for our client, by successfully annulling a bankruptcy order that was made against him. This was due to a critical failure by His Majesty’s Revenue and Customs (HMRC) to properly serve notice of a hearing date. This triumph underscores our expertise in navigating complex bankruptcy rules and procedures. It highlights our commitment to protecting our clients’…

[kids-worldfun]

Is Infant CPR Training Required for Childcare Providers?

When it comes to safeguarding children, childcare providers are the first responders in an emergency. Beyond just nurturing and educating, they face more responsibilities of handling life-threatening situations like respiratory issues, choking, drowning, or severe injuries. These emergencies make it essential for childcare providers to be experienced in techniques like infant CPR for the…

[ponchouxd]

Person 1: *choking and panicing*

Person 2: OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?MM? DID YOU SWALLOW WRONG??

Person 1: wh-COUTH-E-*wheeeeeze*-i d-*isudhfhdi*efin-[kekek3keke] na- odidurururuguufugue8399w0qowieidiwoof woof woff- didn't fu-ARFARAFFARARARARAFAFAFSRQTW- SWAwl<slek> rIG-

Person 3: That's what she said [as Person 2 is giving Person 1 CPR]

[applejuicewerewolf]

I cannot believe I have to say this, but also shoutout to Dan Da Dan for not sexualizing CPR...

It was really refreshing to see Okarun not argue or make any weird comments about it when Momo suggests it. Mouth-to-mouth respiration is an emergency procedure to save somebody's life, why does it only get equated to kissing in pop culture?

[megakarthika]

Reviving the Heart: Essential Techniques for Effective CPR Performance

Intro

CPR, or Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, is a life-saving technique used to revive a person who has gone into cardiac arrest. Knowing how to perform CPR correctly is an essential skill for anyone who may one day need to use it in an emergency. In this blog post, we'll look at the CPR method, as well as the essential techniques needed to ensure the effective performance of this life-saving procedure.

Understanding the Importance of CPR

CPR is not just a skill to learn , but a life-saving technique that can make a difference between life and death. Every second matters when someone is experiencing a cardiac arrest. CPR can help keep oxygen flowing to the brain and vital organs until medical professionals arrive. It can buy valuable time for emergency responders to take over and provide further medical interventions. Knowing how to perform CPR  correctly can mean the difference between saving a life or not. In this section, we will delve into the importance of CPR and why everyone should learn how to perform it.

Knowing When to Perform CPR

Knowing when to perform CPR can be a matter of life or death. CPR is typically administered when a person's heart has stopped beating or when they have stopped breathing. Some common situations where CPR may be necessary include heart attacks, drowning incidents, and accidents that result in a person becoming unconscious. It's important to remember that CPR is not a substitute for professional medical help, but rather a crucial step in providing immediate assistance until help arrives. By being aware of the signs and symptoms that indicate the need for CPR, you can play a vital role in saving a person's life. Remember, every second counts in these situations, so don't hesitate to initiate the CPR procedure if needed.

Basic CPR Steps and Techniques

When it comes to performing CPR, understanding the basic steps and techniques is crucial. In the event of a heart attack or other cardiac emergencies, knowing how to properly administer CPR can be the difference between life and death. The CPR procedure steps include assessing the person's responsiveness, calling for help, and starting chest compressions and rescue breaths. It's important to remember that CPR is a full procedure that combines chest compressions and rescue breaths to maintain blood flow and provide oxygen to the body. Learning these steps and practicing them can empower you to be a lifesaver in critical situations.

Advanced Techniques for CPR

Now that you have a basic understanding of CPR, let's explore some advanced techniques that can further enhance your performance. Advanced techniques in CPR focus on specific scenarios, such as performing CPR for a heart attack. In these situations, it's crucial to ensure effective chest compressions and rescue breaths are being administered. Additionally, being familiar with the complete CPR procedure steps, from assessing responsiveness to initiating chest compressions and rescue breaths, will help you provide the full procedure required to maintain blood flow and deliver oxygen to the body. With these advanced techniques, you'll be better equipped to save lives in critical situations.

Common Mistakes to Avoid When Performing CPR

Performing CPR correctly is essential for saving lives, but there are common mistakes that can hinder its effectiveness. One mistake is not applying enough pressure during chest compressions, which can result in insufficient blood flow. Another mistake is not providing rescue breaths, as they are a crucial part of the full CPR procedure. Additionally, improper hand placement during compressions or failing to ensure an open airway can also impact the success of CPR. Avoiding these common mistakes and ensuring you follow the proper techniques can greatly improve your ability to perform effective CPR and potentially save a life.

Training and Certification in CPR

To ensure you have the knowledge and skills to confidently perform CPR, it's highly recommended to undergo training and certification in CPR. There are numerous organizations that offer CPR courses, both in-person and online, that provide comprehensive instruction on the proper techniques and steps for performing CPR. These courses cover everything from assessing responsiveness to delivering effective chest compressions and rescue breaths. By completing CPR training and obtaining certification, you can gain the confidence and expertise needed to effectively respond in emergency situations, including performing CPR for a heart attack and executing the full procedure with precision.

Resources and Tools for Learning and Practicing CPR

If you're interested in learning and practicing CPR, there are numerous resources and tools available to help you gain the necessary skills. One of the best ways to start is by taking a CPR course, either in-person or online. These courses provide comprehensive instruction on the full procedure of CPR, from assessing responsiveness to delivering effective chest compressions and rescue breaths. Additionally, there are online tutorials, videos, and interactive simulations that can further enhance your learning and allow you to practice CPR techniques in a virtual setting. By utilizing these resources and tools, you can confidently acquire the knowledge and skills needed to be a lifesaver in critical situations.

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 5 - No Such Thing As A Kind Heart

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don't eat, blood, death, CPR, descriptions of wounds, use of weapons, execution, medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, mentions of torture, suicidal thoughts.

AN: Sorry for the delay my sleep schedule is fucked.

Previous parts - masterlist- next AO3

Enjoy <3

A new person comes into your cell. A woman, she has the first aid kit, you stand pressing yourself into the corner of the room. 

“I was a nurse at the hospital.” She says with a heavy accent. “Sayyid sent me to look at your head, and the cut on your neck.” 

“I’m fine.” You say, it’s a lie but you don’t want any of them to touch you. You can feel a fever starting though, your body feels weaker and weaker by the day. You relent eventually nodding and let her come over as you sit back down. 

“Thank you for helping us.” She says as she puts her bag down. You scoff, she starts with the wound on your neck, that one is the most painful, it wasn’t deep but the wound is constantly breaking. She cleans it and bandages it up. 

You turn so she can look at the wound on the back of your head. 

“How long have you worked at the hospital?” You ask. 

“12 years. I worked in the emergency room.” She replies and you feel her squirt saline into the wound. 

“So you knew what it was like before the war?” You say as a matter of fact. 

“Yes. Not so many missiles.” She says with a sigh. 

“How is the man that me and Syyaid treated yesterday?” You ask, maybe she won’t even know who you’re talking about.

“Stable. I can take you to see him if you want?” She asks. It surprises you, you feel her dabbing the wound on your head, from the movement of her hands it’s smaller than you thought. No doubt sand and dirt is getting in it though and it’s not in the most convenient place for a bandage. 

“There’s not really much I can do for him. He needs a hospital.” You say. She hums in agreement and you hear her zipping her bag back up. 

“I’ll come, just to see. Maybe I can convince Syyaid to move him.” She nods smiling and walks back over to the door. She knocks and talks to the guard, they exchange words then he sighs coming in to grab your arm.

“My name is Naajiya,” she says as you walk into the basement. The place is filled with people, some more injured than others. There’s a sickly smell to the place, the smell of rot and flesh. Blood lingers in the air. This looks like it used to be a storeroom, it’s been converted into a mass ward.

There’s no ventilation, no windows, the whole place is lit by flickering fluorescent lights. You almost gag at the smell but you keep it together, you’ve seen worse conditions. The guard stays at the double doors, the only way out as Naajiya takes you over to the far corner of the room. There are tattered fabric dividers on wheels, you can hear the autopump, the steady beeping of a heart monitor. 

And someone speaking Arabic, it’s different though, almost like a melody, praying someone is praying. Naajiya moves back the divider and you see Syyaid sat on a chair, he stops and closes the book in his hand. 

“Don’t stop on my account.” You say. It’s too late though he’s already on his feet putting the book on the bedside table. You feel bad now, you look over at the monitors. It’s not good, but it’s stable. 

“What do we do?” Syyaid asks. 

“Has there been any urine output?” You ask looking round the bed for the catheter drain. 

“I don’t think so why?” He asks.

“The kidneys are usually the first to go. It would give us a good indication of what’s going on internally.” You see a tube coming out at the bottom of the bed and into a bucket. He’s right, it's empty. There’s a chance he didn’t insert the catheter correctly, maybe you should have stayed to do it yourself. 

“Go first?” He asks, you look up at the frown on his face.

“Multisystem organ failure. It’s unfortunately common with these kind of injuries, with no scans or blood tests it’s not always easy to tell if things are going wrong.” You explain. 

“I’m sorry I can’t do more. He needs a hospital. I’m not a doctor or a trauma surgeon, my knowledge of this kind of care is limited.” You say.

“The nearest hospital was blown up, remember.” You can hear the hostility in his voice. 

“Where’s the nearest one after that?” You ask. 

“It’s 4 hours away.” Naajiya says. It’s not good but he’s stable, he could make it.

“Could they send transport? If they could, it's your best option. He will most likely die here.” You say. Naajiya says something in Arabic and Syyaid replies. She leaves you both pulling the divider back. 

“She knows a contact at the hospital, they might be able to arrange something.” He says sitting back down. 

“Did you know him?” You ask. 

“In passing, everyone knows who is related to Khaled.” He says. You hear a commotion, both you and Syyaid turn to look in the direction. A second later someone moves the barrier. His face is splattered in blood. He looks distressed shouting something. Syyaid rushes past you. 

“Landmine.” Is all he says. You rush after him, adrenaline pulses through you. You love this feeling, even here in these circumstances, the sinking feeling in your stomach. It only lasts a few seconds before your heart rate and breathing picks up. You love the feeling of knowing you’re the only thing standing between life and death.

Your mind is clear, you’re already pulling gloves on going over the list of things in your head. Your training kicks in so fast. You look at the man laid out on the table, you’re back in the white tiled room, you can smell blood in the air, gunpowder and smoke too. 

The man is unconscious, one of his legs is blown off. There’s a rudimentary tourniquet made of multiple layers of fabric, it’s not very good. Suddenly Syyaid’s questions snap you back to reality. You rush round to your kit pulling out a proper tourniquet and pushing through the crowd of people in the room. 

“His pulse is weak.” Syyaid says. You look at the amount of blood, it could already be too late. 

“We need a monitor and the nurse.” You say, tying the tourniquet round his leg. 

“We only have one monitor.” He says. 

“Then get it, we need it.” You snap, you don’t have time for this. Syyaid nods and starts giving out orders to the people in the room, they nod following his orders.

“What should I do?” He asks as you reach into your bag looking for a blast bandage. 

“IV, intubate.” You reach in and grab the last of your ketamine and sux. You just hope no one else needs this now. You give them to him and he gets to work, you find what you’re looking for and start to remove the makeshift tourniquet to replace it with a blast bandage. 

Naajiya comes into the room a few seconds later quickly followed by a man with the monitor. 

“Get him hooked up, we need to see what we’re working with.” You say to her, she nods and comes over to his chest. You watch as Syyaid looks at you ready to intubate him. You go round to the IV and push the drugs. You’re out of anti-nausea, you’ll just have to hope he doesn’t throw up. 

When the monitor is hooked up your heart sinks. Naajiya already sees it too, she steps up pressing her hands on his chest. Syyaid looks confused stepping back to look at the monitor. He has to manually pump air into his lungs, you guess they only have one auto pump too. 

“Do you have a defibrillator?” You ask, he shakes his head. 

“We need adrenaline then.” You say going over to your bag. You pull open the red pouch, it’s almost empty, no adrenaline. You open the bigger pocket with the vials, 2 left. You get 2 chances to save this guy. You reach in for a syringe. 

You look back over at the monitor as you draw up the medication. It’s not looking good, it’s barely shockable borderline VF, massive blood loss could lead to PEA, that’s what you have to avoid. You push the adrenaline you wish you had a shock, this is the best you can do. You reach over for a stethoscope putting it in your ear and you wait a few seconds. 

“Let me check.” You say to Naajiya who stops CPR. You listen, pressing your fingers to his neck and look up at the monitor. PEA, it’s too late. He’d lost too much blood, you shouldn’t have even bothered with the adrenaline. Syyaid, looks confused, his head snaps between you both.

“No!” He shouts dropping the bag and moving over to his chest. You feel sick, Naajiya moves out the way for him as he starts CPR again. You don’t know what to say, even Naajiya looks lost, you can see sadness in her eyes. 

“Syyaid.” You call, he ignores you muttering something. “He’s gone. There's nothing we can do.” 

“Syyaid!” You shout, reaching over and pressing your hands on his. “There’s nothing you can do. He’s dead.” He looks up at you, you can see horror in his face, it makes you shiver. You take your hand off his, he stops pumping on his chest. 

He stands up walking away from the bed. You look over at Naajiya who reaches over turning the monitor off. You look at the mess around the bed, empty syringes and medicine vials thrown all over the place. Blood soaked gauze and bandages shoved into him, all in vain. 

You walk round the bed to Syyaid, you reach out to touch his back. He turns instantly as soon as he feels your fingers.

“I knew him!” he shouts. “He never did anything wrong.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say pulling your gloves off. 

“No you’re not. You don’t care.” He spits, stepping up to you almost pressing his face against yours. 

“Syyaid.” Naajiya calls, you hear the break in her voice as he gets up in your face. 

“What do you want me to say?” You throw your arms up, stepping back. “Welcome to the war. We’re medics, we save who we can save, not who we want to save.” 

“If you had your kit could you have saved him.” He asks. You look round the room. You consider lying to him, you could so easily put his mind at ease. Make him think there was a chance. Or would that be worse, knowing there was a chance.

“Pulseless electrical activity. It’s common with extreme blood loss.” You sigh. “He bled out too quick. There was nothing we could have done.” You look at Naajiya who nods, she’s probably seen this a hundred times. 

“If we had blood?” He asks, leaning on the bed.

“We wouldn’t have been able to get it in him quick enough. It wouldn’t have made a difference, he was hit with a landmine, probably had internal injuries we couldn’t see. We don’t have anything here to even start looking for another bleeder. He needed way more help than we could have ever given him.” 

Syyaid calls something in Arabic and you hear people behind you. You get it he’s upset. You pull the stethoscope off your neck, passing it to Naajiya. You let them grip you, pulling you out the room. He’s mad, he’s allowed to blame you even though it’s not your fault. You just hope he doesn’t hate you. 

___

You’re woken from your sleep dragged to your feet and out the cell. Maybe they’re going back to the torture. Maybe another one of Khaled's friends is dying and you have to help them. 

You’re starting to hate the do no harm oath. These people are doing harm to you, you shouldn’t have to help them. You’re being taken through a new place now with longer corridors. For a second you think you can see the sun, you think you can feel a breeze. 

You’re thrown through a door, you stumble, your arms try to break your fall but it doesn’t happen. Your body slams into the ground. It winds you, you only get time to realise you’re outside before you’re hauled to your feet again. 

You have to squeeze your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of the sun on your skin. You thought it was warm inside your windowless room, it's even worse out here. At least there’s a breeze though. It’s almost calming. 

You’re not exactly in a calming environment. You look round trying to get your bearings as you’re dragged over to a wall. You can see more people, and Sayyid. You frown at him as your body is jerked to a halt. You look over at the wall. You see Naajiya, there's blood on her face and a blindfold over her eyes. Her hands tied behind her back around a post. 

“No!” You scream lunging forward. You know what’s happening. Someone grabs your shoulders forcing you to your knees in the hot sand. You look back over at Sayyid, he hasn’t moved. Someone steps in front of you, his face covered. You can only see his dark brown eyes.

He pulls something out his pocket and throws it at your feet. You recognise the patch, it’s your SAS patch the other thing looks like a piece of paper. You think it’s the partially filled out medical form until the man reaches down to pick it up. 

He unfolds it in his hand. 

“141, I am being held at an al qatala compound in Qatgat come quick.” He rips the paper up in his hands. 

You’re in Qatgat, you don’t have time to think about that. You didn’t write that note, let alone give it to Naajiya. You feel sick, her life is in danger. 

“I didn’t write that!” You shout. They’re not going to believe you, you know that why would they? You're the enemy. It’s your sole job to take them down. It’s what you’re trained to do. Why wouldn’t you try and send out a message with an innocent person? Why didn’t you? 

Because you’re better than them. You don’t put innocent lives in danger like that. Do no harm. You look up at Naajiya, she’s shaking, whimpering against the post. 

The man who read the letter shouts something in Arabic. You’re dragged back up to your feet, you watch as 3 people aim their weapons at her. You hear the clicks of their guns. You want to look away, you want to close your eyes and not witness this.  

There’s another call, another click of weapons. 

You’re holding your breath but your heart is thumping hard in your chest. 

Another order. You close your eyes as the weapons fire. 

Your body slumps, a sob leaves your chest. That’s it, you’ve done it now. You’ve shown a moment of weakness. They know how to break you. You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes focusing on your SAS patch laying in the sand. 

Sayyid did this. He had your patch. There’s more shouting as you’re pulled back to the building. You turn to look at him. He meets your eyes for a second. 

He did this. He got Naajiya killed.

You can’t tell what hurts more, the fact you let yourself get hurt, or the fact you let an innocent person die. 

You don’t even deserve a rescue. 141 should just leave you to rot.

One thing’s for sure though. You’re not going down without a fight. 

…

“Price.” Kyle’s voice breaks next to him. He wants nothing more than to reach over and press his hand on his shoulder. He can already feel him move like he wants to jump over the ridge into enemy territory and drag you out. 

Price can’t tell what was worse about the whole thing. Watching you call out to defend the woman being executed or the screams as you fight the people dragging you back into the compound. 

“She’s back in the compound.” Ghost says. Price already knows that, he saw the doors being slammed behind you. 

“Copy, rendezvous at the safehouse.” Price says forcing himself to keep his voice steady and crawling to his feet. Gaz doesn’t move, his eye still pressed to the sniper scope. 

“Lets move Garrick, there’s nothing we can do here.” Price says. Gaz moves methodically, following the order to move almost like he doesn’t agree with it. There's a silence from Gaz, Price hasn’t seen in years. It’s almost like he blames him for the current situation. 

They walk to the car in silence. 

…

When they make it back to the house Simon and Johnny are already there. Price can hear them shouting. 

“What other choice do we have!?” Soap snaps. 

“It’s easier to save one person versus two.” Ghost replies. The closing of the front door makes them stop talking, pulling their attention to Price and Gaz walking into the kitchen. 

“What is it?” Price asks. 

“Soap wants to hand himself over. I’m reminding him why that’s a terrible idea.” Ghost says. 

“He’s right. There’s no way you’re putting yourself at risk.” Price says putting his weapon down and starting to unclip his vest. 

“You need me on the inside. Especially after today. She’s in no position to take care of herself.” Soap snaps. 

“Easy sergeant.” Price says back his voice laced with authority. “We stick to the plan.” 

“Do we know anything about the person they executed?” Gaz says going over to the table. 

“Laswell’s on it.” Ghost replies. “Shepherd is here now though she has to be careful.”  

“Ghost take first watch, we’ll wait for the intel to come then we’ll move. For now the plan stays as is. We need more intel before we go in.” Price says. It’s met with huffs, frustrated glances, he doesn’t take it personally. 

You're so close, they all just want you back.

…

Ghost is sat in the dark, the only light coming off the laptop screen. His mind goes back to the execution. Who was the woman? You shouted something about a letter. Maybe she was trying to help you?

You looked weaker, skinner. There were bandages on your neck, your arms. You looked dirty and scruffy, you looked like a hostage. It makes Ghost's stomach sink, the thought of them hurting you, forcing you to watch the execution today. He has to trust the mission, he has to trust Price’s plan. He’s right, this compound is massive, there could be hundreds of people in there. They need to wait for satellite images, floor plans, anything to give them an advantage. 

During the day they leave for patrols, less people to deal with and easier to get you out. He looks over at the time. It’s almost midnight, he needs to wake Johnny and get some sleep. He gets up stretching and heads over to the bedroom. 

“Soap.” He calls as he opens the door announcing himself. He doesn’t hear movement and goes over to the bed. It's dark and his eyes still haven’t adjusted to the light. He goes over to the bed to shake him awake. 

“C’mon Johnn-” His words catch in his throat, there’s no person to wake, his hand lands on the pillow. He throws the duvet back, it feels like his heart stops. He turns back to the room door and turns on the light. The bed is empty, the window is open, all Johnny’s gear is still laid out. 

“Price!” Ghost shouts running out the room to bang on his door. “John!” Price’s door swings open, he's rubbing his eyes as Ghost turns on all the lights. “Christ what is it?” He asks.

“Soap he’s gone.” Ghost says as Gaz comes out behind Price. He pushes past him and goes over to Soap’s room.

“Where?” Price asks. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know!” Ghost shaps. Johnny’s gone. Holy shit he’s gone to get you. Price pinches the bridge of his nose. 

They know where he is. 

“He’s going to get himself killed.” Ghost says in a low voice, he swallows the sob rising in his throat. Price’s hand lands on his shoulder. 

“We’ll get him back. Both of them.” He says. “Then I'll let you kill him yourself.” Ghost tightens his jaw. They hear the laptop beep in the living room, they both turn and Gaz comes out of Soap’s room holding a piece of paper, a letter. 

“I guess we’re going to need some help now? Right?” Gaz asks. Price sighs, yeah they’re going to need help. Lots of help, and now the timer is shorter than ever. 

Besides, what’s the point of al qatala keeping you both alive? 

next

Banners by plum98

[publicdomainreview]

Before CPR there was... blowing tobacco smoke up the bum. One of the recommended procedures for resuscitating "persons apparently dead from drowning", from a 1787 booklet by the Humane Society. More here: https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/humane-society

[lektoheart]

CPR Animation Test #8

I added a convulsion effect to my resus game. The convulsion animation was created procedurally, which allows other animations to play at the same time. I did have to limit the character's chest movement though, because it made other animations look bad.

I'm undecided if I want to add a foaming mouth effect. Let me know what you think.

[littlesyluscrow]

🫀 What Is the 5th Intercostal Space & Why It Matters?

The 5th intercostal space (5th ICS) is the space between your 5th and 6th ribs—specifically along the left midclavicular line (down from the middle of your collarbone, near the nipple line).

This spot is crucial in heart care because it's where doctors and nurses listen to the apical pulse—the heartbeat heard at the tip (apex) of the heart. This location is called the Point of Maximal Impulse (PMI).

📍 Why it's important:

Best place to hear heart rate and rhythm

Used to assess for heart enlargement or fluid buildup

Guides chest tube placement, echocardiograms, and CPR

🔍 How to find it:

Locate your collarbone

Feel down to the 5th rib

The space just under it = 5th ICS

Follow it to the left midclavicular line

For healthcare workers, the 5th ICS is a key landmark for monitoring heart function and performing lifesaving procedures. ❤️‍🩹

[lexlawuk]

When Stalled Litigation is an Abuse of the Proper Process of the Court

The proper administration of justice hinges on the timely and efficient resolution of disputes. However, the phenomenon of stalled litigation presents a significant challenge to this ideal. When litigation is deliberately delayed or prolonged, it not only clogs the judicial system but also undermines the principles of fairness and equity that courts strive to uphold. This Article explores the…