#cpr female

[tangocardiaca]

What a sexy woman. I'd love to resuscitate her. Defibrillation would be awesome too.

[heartpleasurre]

𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 : 𝗗𝗶𝗴𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹02

𝗦𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 : 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲

[recessfanh]

Still on the look for a model

I’m thinking about setting up a studio to create some resuscitation and medical videos and content in the uk is there any one who is in the uk who would like to be a model/patient please DM me may be able to sort out payment

[kk095]

Renee’s Respiratory Distress

It’s a slow weekday in our emergency department just around lunchtime. The ER is relatively quiet, and most of the trauma bays and exam rooms are open. Our team chats casually amongst themselves, sipping coffee, reviewing charts, and checking their phones.

The calm is interrupted when the automatic doors slide open, EMS wheeling in a stretcher. Dr Lindsay’s head snaps up at the sudden motion, her easy conversation with Nurse Nancy cut short. On the gurney sits a barefoot woman in loose black slacks, her blouse removed in the ambulance. EKG electrodes dot her fair skinned chest, wires trailing from the portable monitor. The woman is gasping, her lips tinged faintly blue. Her straight, shoulder length red hair is a tangled mess, strands clinging to the sweat on her temples. Sharp, bright blue eyes flick frantically between the faces around her, wide with terror and uncertainty. There’s a slight crease between her brows, as if she’s trying to keep control but failing. The paramedic at her side keeps a firm grip on her trembling shoulder.

Nancy is already moving, stepping toward the stretcher. “What do we got?” Lindsay asks, following Nancy, voice stern but professional. The lead EMT fires off a rapid report as they push through the hallway: “This is Renee. 38 year old female, sudden onset of severe shortness of breath and chest pain at work. Hypoxic, tachycardic, hypotensive. Maybe a PE? No signs of trauma. No history of asthma or respiratory issues.”

In a breathy, winded tone, Renee speaks. “I… c-can’t… breathe…” she struggles tremendously to get each word out. Nancy places a steadying hand on Renee’s shoulder. “You’re okay, hunny. We’ve got you. We’re gonna take a good look at you, ok?” Nancy reassures. “it… it… hurts… w-when… I… breathe…” Renee tries to respond, barely getting enough air. “it’s ok sweetie, we’re gonna make you feel better.” Nancy soothes.

Once Renee is wheeled into trauma one, Dr Sarah and Nurse Heather follow close behind. Monitors beep incessantly as the team transfers the redheaded woman from the EMS gurney onto the trauma room table. Nancy moves quickly but gently, adjusting the oxygen mask and checking the IV lines already in place.

The 38 year old sits upright on the trauma room table, her chest rising and falling quickly, taking shallow, uneven gasps. Her anxiety is visible, her blue eyes darting around the room. Dr Lindsay steps in first. “Renee, I’m Dr Lindsay. You’re in the ER. Can you tell me what’s going on?” asks the doctor. Renee shakes her head weakly, her chest heaving. She grips tightly at her sternum, fingers pressing against her ribs as if trying to hold herself together. “W-what’s… happening… to… me?…” she mumbles, the words barely escaping her lips. “You’re safe, hun. We’re figuring this out, okay?” Nurse Nancy intervenes.

Dr Sarah and Nurse Heather work in tandem. A d-dimer is drawn for clot detection. An ABG is taken to better check the patient’s oxygen saturation. A bolus of IV fluids are started to counteract her hypotension. A portable echocardiogram is performed by Dr Sarah, which displays evidence of right heart strain.

Even after these interventions and tests, Renee’s heart rate is climbing into the 150s, her systolic BP is in the 80s, and her O2 saturation is in the 70s.

Renee sucks in another dramatic, broken breath, her hand weakly grasping Nancy’s scrub sleeve. Her fingertips are cold and clammy. “my… my… chest…” she gasps, feeling as if there are a million tiny, razor sharp bits of glass inside her lungs. “Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re doing great. Just focus on breathing, okay?” Nancy tightens her grip on the patient’s hand. Renee’s eyes flicker to the monitor, taking in the blaring alarms and the flashing red numbers. She knows something’s wrong. Her gaze shifts to Lindsay, pleading silently for reassurance. “We’ve got you, Renee, you’re doing good.” Lindsay tells her. But behind Dr Lindsay’s composed face is a subtle sense of worry, and Renee picks up on it.

Over the coming minutes, Renee starts experiencing rapid, terrifying deterioration in quick succession. Initially, her heart rate spikes significantly, shooting into the 160s as her body struggles with severe respiratory distress. She gasps desperately for breath, struggling to draw in air, as her lungs and heart begin to fail under the weight of whatever’s happening to her body. It’s almost suffocating. Renee’s breathing becomes more and more labored and erratic, the sound of agonal gasps filling the room. Her chest heaves violently with each frantic gasp, but each inhalation is shallow and desperate. Her skin becomes pale, lips bluish, and there’s an almost grayish hue around her face as hypoxia sets in. This isn’t just the cold medical stuff, it’s visually disturbing to the staff and to the patient herself, who is acutely aware of her body failing on her. Her heart rate spikes dramatically- 160s, 170s, 170s, and the EKG starts to show signs of v-tach.

Despite the chaos, Renee’s mental clarity remains fully intact as she slowly realizes that something much more serious is happening to her. She’s not just experiencing a panic attack. She’s aware that she’s rapidly losing control. She gasps in a panicked voice, choking on her breaths: “Am… I… dying…?” Her voice is frantic, each word more strained than the last. There’s no crying, but her face is contorted in terror, her eyes wide and glassy. Her hands clutch the edge of the table in a desperate bid to hang on. “we’re gonna make sure that doesn’t happen hunny. Just try to relax for me and take slow, deep breaths, ok?” Nancy answers.

Our team’s urgency builds as her condition continues to deteriorate. While they’re still moving with clinical precision, the panic is very palpable. Nancy, despite the mounting tension, tries to keep the redheaded woman calm with quiet, reassuring words: “You’re going to be ok, Renee. Just stay with me, ok?” But even Nancy’s voice wavers as the minutes tick by, and it’s clear that things are slipping away.

In the coming minutes, Renee’s eyes widen In pure terror, as if understanding that the end is near. Her body quivers for a moment- one last desperate attempt to breathe. Then, her body goes limp, her eyes flicker once more before glazing over. A moment of silence hangs in the air as the team processes the sudden, brutal reality: she’s in pulseless v-tach!

The room erupts into a flurry of motion, but there’s an undercurrent of precision and expertise to every action. Dr Lindsay stands at the end of the bed, her hands steady despite the growing urgency. “Vitals are crashing, let’s move fast. Heather, on her chest, let’s go!” Lindsay commands. Nurse Heather lowers the table and gets on the patient’s chest, beginning compressions, her hands pressing down hard and fast on Renee’s sternum. Dr Lindsay looks at the monitor, confirming v-tach. “Hey Linds, I need to intubate now. 7.0 ET please.” Informs Dr Sarah. Sarah wastes no time. She stands at the head of the bed, positioning the intubation tube with practiced ease, and quickly slides it into the redhead’s airway, securing it with some surgical tape. Nurse Nancy connects the ambu bag, squeezing much needed oxygen into Renee’s lungs. Lindsay turns to Dr Sarah, who is putting the defib pads on her chest. “Let’s go with epi first. 1 mg IV push.” Dr Lindsay orders. Sarah administers the meds intravenously while Heather pumps away at Renee’s bare, skinny chest. The redhead’s chest caves in, her belly ripples out from the force of Heather’s chest compressions.

After a minute or so, the patient remains in pulseless v-tach despite intubation, 1mg epi, and a few CPR cycles. Lindsay decides it’s a good time to shock Renee. “ok, let’s charge to 200. Everyone… CLEAR!” Dr Lindsay calls out. KA-THUNK!!! There’s a pause after the shock, and all eyes are on the monitor, hoping and praying for ROSC. “No change. Resume compressions, Heather. Sarah, push 300 mg of amiodarone.” Orders Dr Lindsay. Another round of epinephrine is administered in swift silence. Heather completes two cycles of compressions after the second dose of epi is administered. At that point, the defibrillator charges again, the team holding their breath as they await the jolt. “Ok, recharging to 300. Everyone… CLEAR!” Barks Dr Lindsay. The electricity rips through Renee’s petite body, her chest heaving with the force of it. The monitor briefly catches a moment of regular rhythm, only for it to plummet into v-fib. “Crap! She’s in v-fib. Let’s push another milligram of epi, then shock again.” Dr Lindsay says, her tone a mix of frustration and determination. The team is relentless. Dr Sarah prepares the IV meds, while Dr Lindsay keeps a watchful eye on the monitor. The drugs flow through Renee’s veins, but still, the monitor remains unforgiving. “Ok, meds in. Let’s shock again at 360. Everyone… CLEAR!” The defibrillator charges for the third time, and the cute redhead’s body tenses up again, shoulders shrugging forward, eyes wide open, but the result is the same: nothing. Lindsay sighs following the shock. “She’s not responding. Let’s go for another 150 milligrams of amiodarone and shock her at 360.”

The next amiodarone dose is halved, and Dr Sarah administers the medication with a calmness that contrasts the panic in the room. The defibrillator makes a rising, high pitched hum as it charges, and once again, sends a quick jolt through Renee’s chest. Her hands make loose fists, and the upper half of her body shivers for a second or two. Nothing. The 38 year old’s heart doesn’t budge. “Still nothing. We’re not giving up.” Dr Lindsay directs Nurse Nancy to ensure the ambu bag is being squeezed at full capacity. Heather resumes chest compressions. The team remains laser focused, and administers another 360 joule shock when Heather finishes her cycle of CPR. The jolt, more violent than the others, leaves the room holding its breath. Renee’s feet kick up at the far end of the table, slamming back down hard half a second later, showing off the soft, smooth soles of her size 6 feet. Even after this shock, v-fib persists.

The team continues their efforts, almost on autopilot at this point. CPR, ambu bagging, and another 1mg push of epi, but v-fib remains. Lindsay then orders the team to shock the patient for a sixth time. “Charging to 360. Everyone… CLEAR!” Lindsay calls out. Renee’s chest shoots up, her back arches dramatically, and her body plops back down on the table ungracefully a second later. All eyes shift back to the monitors. “Still in v-fib, Linds.” Sarah shakes her head.

Dr Lindsay takes a breath, steps back, folding her arms, looking at the team, her face unreadable. “She’s in refractory v-fib, we’re gonna have to call time of death.” Lindsay explains to the team, succinct and to the point. “heather, hold compressions.” Lindsay continues. Heather stops, and steps back from the table, away from the patient. Nancy detaches the ambu bag from the ET tube, a small amount of air hissing out. “Alright. Time of death, 12:37pm.” Announces Lindsay, her bluish gray eyes looking at the clock in the lefthand corner of the room, pulling off the latex gloves on her hands.

The room becomes eerily quiet, the frantic chaos of the code blue replaced by an unsettling calm. Dr Lindsay stands back, looking down at Renee, her eyes still WIDE open and unblinking, face still pale and distorted in terror, detached ET tube sitting between her pale, cyanotic lips. The heart monitor that still displays the jagged waveforms of v-fib is turned off. Nancy stays at the head of the bed, taking a moment to look down at Renee’s face. Her eyes are wide open, frozen in a moment of sheer terror. Nancy swallows, her throat tight, before reaching forward to gently close the redhead’s eyes for the final time. “I’m so sorry, hunny.” Nancy whispers under her breath, her hands lingering just a moment too long.

The rest of the team methodically moves through the motions, detaching the EKG wires and removing the IV lines with almost robotic efficiency. Defibrillator pads are peeled off of Renee’s battered chest, the adhesive strips coming away with a slight tug, leaving a red imprint on her skin where the pads had been.

Dr Lindsay fills out the toe tag, her movements deliberate and almost ritualistic. The tag, printed with Renee’s name, age, and the official time of death, dangles from her left big toe, brushing against the soft, smooth soles of her feet. Nurse Nancy places a sheet over her body, her hands trembling slightly as she covers the redhead’s lifeless form.

Lindsay glances over to Dr Sarah and then to Nurse Heather, the weight of the moment settling into their collective silence. Finally, she turns her attention to Nurse Nancy. “I’m going to request an autopsy.” Lindsay says, her voice clinical but with a slight edge of concern. “We never confirmed the PE. It might help us piece everything together.” Continues Dr Lindsay. Nancy nods silently, her face still pale, her eyes lingering on the covered body. She takes a deep breath and steps back, looking at Renee one last time. “What a shame. She went down so fast…” she mutters, her voice thick with emotion.

The room stands still for a moment, the weight of what just happened hanging heavily in the air. A life taken too soon. A woman who had been alive, pleading for her life just minutes ago, is now toe tagged and under a sheet. A nameless, faceless statistic in a death report. The rest of the team turns and leaves the room, each of them silently processing the brief but intense encounter.

Later on, Renee’s autopsy report and labs came back. It was determined that her cause of death was a massive, acute saddle PE. These types of blood clots can sneak up rather quickly and unexpectedly, leading to a deadly progression of events. When Renee woke up this morning, she never in a million years would’ve expected she’d have her time of death called in our ED. But just like that, Renee became the latest beauty to pass away in our emergency department.

[cpr23]

CPR

[imjustafetgirl]

Sometimes I imagine having a problem at the gym and needing them to work on me. Would that paramedic be lucky?🚨

[weepingpaperrunaway]

save me

[neynn]

Courtesy : yt Corceana

[beckresuscpr]

[lil-bitty-lubdubs]

The Basement Series: Septima pt.3

Previously...

“Yes darling yes you’re in respiratory arrest. You’re gonna fall into cardiac arrest. Soon. So soon. Yes I feel it …and then I will resuscitate you. I’m going to pump your chest hard, breathe into your mouth, shock your heart to bring you back to life.” he paused, his hands both occupied. The one hand steady on the pulsing in her neck, the other went from between her now still breasts to rubbing her nipples. Each minute her heart continued to slow into certain death with him waiting, watching. The heart monitor rhythm finally changed. “That’s it. Just give into it sweetheart. Just give in. Let your heart stop.” He said tenderly as her heart slammed still against her ribs.

Part 3

“Arrest!” he announced as his own heart hammered in his ears. He took a deep inhale and closed her nose, fitting his mouth over hers, his one hand sliding back onto her chest, breathing into her forcefully. His mouth still against her he groaned. He formed the seal again and puffed her full feeling her chest rise with his hand. He gave her one more for good measure and then straightened.

He slid a stool over with his foot and climbed on top, checking her pulse again. Nothing there. He placed his fingers on her rib cage feeling where the convergence of rib and sternum happened. He found her sternal notch rubbing it fondly before placing his hands right in between the nipples of her breasts, one hand palm fully extended into her chest just above her heart. The other hand interlaced on top.

“One, two, three, four…” He counted making sure to press hard enough to pump the still heart inside her chest. “…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” He slid over, his mouth sealing over hers once again. Breathing her full, he began another cycle of chest pumps. “Come on darlin. Come on back to me.” He willed her to fight.

Two cycles later he finally gave in to the needle siting on the surgical table beside them. “No darlin, you’re not getting away. I want to hear your heart beat again.” He measured and sent the very long gage needle’s tip straight into her awaiting dead heart. He watched the monitor. Nothing.

He gave her another cycle of CPR before her heart spasmed inside of her. “V-fib. That’s it darlin. Come on back…” He paused to look at the monitor. “Fight. Septima. Fight!” He whispered in her ear.

“Fight. I need to hear that heart beat again! So strong. So full. Life itself in your chest.” He grabbed the defibrillator paddles next. “Yes. Until it beats on its own, I’ll be here pumping your heart, breathing life into you. You’re not getting away darlin so just come back.” he triggered the charge and thrust them onto her bare chest, one below her left breast, the other just below her clavicle. He pressed the button unloading the charge into her chest. She spasmed. 

Her heart kicking to life within her. The monitor began beeping regularly. The naked girl splayed on his table sucked in a deep breath on her own. She let out a groan as her senses returned to her. No doubt she was sore. He stood back watching the life coming back to her. “Yes. That’s it darlin.” he smiled putting away the defibrillator. He placed two fingers into her femoral feeling the miracle beating against his fingers. Music. It was all music to his ears. He brought his head down and gently met her lips, sliding his tongue into her mouth for good measure, kissing her deeply. She gasped for breath between his assaults. He pulled back a few inches to look into her beautiful face and brought up a fist thumping her hard in the center of the chest.

She let out a half conscious yelp. “Don’t worry darling. I’m just helping stabilize that precious heartbeat. Just rest.” He slid his strong arm under her head, supporting it,

as he thumped her between her bare breasts again and again and again. The pounding was becoming more regular. “There! Normal sinus rhythm darling.” She groaned back into unconsciousness.

His hand pressed back in the now familiar groove of her carotid, the other found its way over her heart as she sucked in breath. My breath. With no immanent threat any longer, the thought slammed into his consciousness.  He groaned into unstimulated orgasm right next to her feeling her life beating beneath his fingers.

[heartpleasurre]

𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 : 𝗗𝗶𝗴𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹02

𝗦𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 : 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲

[malecpranddead]

Cardiac ARREST 🩺⚡

[cprdefibb]

my heart will stop! who will help me I need a doctor🩺🫀

[kk095]

Ella’s OD

The fluorescent lights in Trauma Room One buzzed faintly, casting a glow on our usual team of medical professionals who stood like statues, their faces unreadable. Dr Lindsay stood at the head of the exam table, arms folded, her sharp eyes flicking towards the doorway. Nurse Nancy adjusted her gloves, the faint snap breaking the silence, while Nurse Heather prepared the crash cart nearby, her hands steady despite the silent tension in the room.

In an instant, the stillness shattered as the trauma bay doors flung open with a loud thud. A gurney barreled through, along with two paramedics. One was perched on top of the stretcher, rhythmically compressing the chest of a young lady. “22 year old female!” the paramedic started, breathless but focused, pumping away at the patient’s chest. “Suspected overdose, cardiac arrest for 15 minutes. She’s intubated- no response to multiple doses of Narcan. Seven shocks, two doses of epi on board!” the medic continued.

Twenty two year old Ella’s bare chest caved in hard, her small perky breasts with pierced nipples jiggling slightly in sync with each individual compression. Her fair skin had taken on a ghastly pallor, her colorful tattoo sleeves a stark contrast to her otherwise lifeless appearance. Her green eyes, wide open, stared into nothing, frozen in a gaze of terror that sent a chill through the room. The breathing tube taped firmly in place peeked between her pale lips, and the hiss of the ambu bag punctuated the chaos.

“Let’s transfer her on my count!” Dr Lindsay commanded, stepping towards the gurney. The team moved as one. “One… two… THREE!” With a coordinated heave, they transferred Ella onto the trauma room table. “Nancy, get me a rhythm check!” Dr Lindsay ordered as Nurse Heather connected the defibrillator pads to Ella’s chest. The monitor let out a shrill alarm as it revealed a chaotic ventricular fibrillation pattern. “She’s in v-fib, Linds” Nancy announced, her voice steady despite the grim reading. “Charge to 200!” Lindsay called out, snapping her latex gloves into place. “Everyone… CLEAR!” The team took a step back as Lindsay delivered a shock. Ella’s body was thrown around dramatically by the jolt of electricity, her green eyes still locked in that haunting gaze. “Ok, no change. Heather, resume compressions!” Lindsay barked, her voice sharp. Nancy jumped in without hesitation, her hands working Ella’s fragile frame as the room became a cacophony of beeping monitors, barking orders, and the rhythmic thud of chest compressions.

As the EMS team hurried out, their job done, the doors swung shut behind them, leaving the trauma team to take over the fight for Ella’s life. Nurse Heather stood at Ella’s side, her hands interlocked and pumping firmly on the young woman’s bare chest. The compressions sent tremors through Ella’s thin frame, her green eyes still frozen open, giving the room an eerie, haunting feel. “Charging to 300!” Dr Lindsay announced, her voice cutting through the noise. Her gloved hand hovered over the defibrillator controls as the machine emitted its rising electrical whine. “CLEAR!” she called, stepping back as Heather lifted her hands, and the team momentarily froze. The shock surged through Ella’s torso, causing her body to jerk violently before collapsing ungracefully back onto the table. The heart monitor beeped erratically, showing no change, still in ventricular fibrillation. “Resume compressions!” Lindsay barked without missing a beat. Heather immediately resumed, her palms pressing down rhythmically. Sweat glistened on her brow, but she didn’t falter. At the head of the bed, Nurse Nancy ambu bagged. “Come on sweetie, come on…” Nancy leaned in a little, whispering to the patient, gently stroking Ella’s short, jet black hair with bangs.

The door to the trauma room swung open again, with Dr Sarah and brand new, first year resident Dr Jen entering briskly, both already in yellow gowns and gloves, ready to dive into the chaos. “What do we have?” Dr. Sarah asked, her sharp gaze scanning the room. “22 year old female, suspected overdose.” Lindsay replied quickly, not breaking stride. “She’s been down for 18 minutes and counting, no response to Narcan, nine shocks, three rounds of epi. Still in v-fib.” Relayed Dr Lindsay. Dr. Jen moved to the head of the table, assessing Ella’s pale, motionless face. She adjusted the ambu bag, delivering a few firm breaths through the endotracheal tube. “Good tube placement.” she confirmed, her tone clipped but professional. “Any signs of underlying trauma?” Sarah asked as she grabbed the ultrasound probe from the cart. “None reported by EMS.” Nurse Nancy chimed in as she adjusted the IV line, prepping another dose of epinephrine. “All signs point to an overdose.” Lindsay added. “Let’s confirm in a minute. I’m going to see what her heart’s doing.” Sarah muttered, sliding the ultrasound probe across Ella’s chest. The ultrasound screen displayed a fluttering, twitching heart, no organized contractions. “Damn it.” Sarah shook her head. “Push another round of epi and hit her again at 360. We need to get her out of this rhythm now.” Lindsay ordered, her voice firm. Nancy moved swiftly, injecting the dose into Ella’s IV line as the defibrillator began to charge again. The team exchanged a brief, nervous glance before focusing back on their patient.

Heather’s gloved hands pressed down on Ella’s bare chest with rhythmic precision, each compression forcing her sternum to cave and recoil as it fought against the unnatural motion. The force of Heather’s efforts sent subtle ripples through Ella’s body, making her head bob gently in sync. Her short jet-black hair clung to her pale forehead. At the end of the table, Ella’s bare feet, marked with ink from scattered tattoos, bounced lightly with each downward motion. The movement was unnervingly rhythmic, almost like a puppet on strings. The high pitched whine of the defibrillator charging filled the room, growing louder as the next shock prepared to fire. Nurse Nancy, standing by with the ambu bag, occasionally squeezed it to deliver air into Ella’s lungs, though it felt futile against the relentless tide of chaos. Dr Sarah’s voice cut through the background noise. “Charging to 360!” Heather paused her compressions, lifting her gloved hands and stepping back as Dr Lindsay called out, “Clear!” The shock hit Ella’s chest like a thunderclap, her chest shooting up, her back arching before collapsing back, motionless. Her head lolled to the side, her green eyes staring into the void, still wide open, as though bearing silent witness to the battle raging around her. “No change, still in v-fib.” Dr Jen quickly checked the monitor, seeing the same disorganized rhythm. “Resume compressions” Dr Lindsay ordered, her voice sharp but controlled. Heather immediately resumed, her movements unwavering despite the sweat dripping from her temples. Ella’s head began to bob again, her feet tapping softly against the end of the table, the eerie rhythm matching the relentless beeping of the heart monitor. Dr Sarah exhaled sharply, wiping her brow. “We need to break this rhythm. Let’s prep for amiodarone. Nancy, 300 milligrams IV push.” Nancy nodded, grabbing the vial and syringe from the cart. Meanwhile, Dr Jen leaned over Ella, her voice soft but firm as though addressing the patient directly. “Come on, Ella. Don’t give up on us!”

The room was a whirlwind of controlled chaos as the minutes ticked on. Heather’s hands moved without pause, the rhythmic pressure of her compressions forcing Ella’s chest to yield, each pump a desperate attempt to restart the fragile heart beneath. Nancy prepared the amiodarone, her hands steady despite the mounting pressure. She pulled the syringe from the vial, the liquid gleaming under the harsh lights. “Amiodarone, 300 milligrams.” Dr Lindsay confirmed as Nancy injected the drug into the IV line, her movements swift. Dr Sarah glanced at the monitor, noting the continued, disordered chaos of Ella’s rhythm. “We’ve got to break this.” Sarah shook her head. “resuming compressions…” Heather panted, already positioning herself. “Go ahead.” Lindsay said, her eyes scanning the room for any hint of a shift in the young woman’s condition. With each downward push, Heather’s palms met Ella’s sternum with brutal force, her movements unrelenting. The sound of compressions echoed through the trauma room, filling the space with a macabre rhythm. As the cycle of compressions finished, the defibrillator was recharged once again. The air in the room thickened as everyone held their breath, waiting for the next shock. “Charging to 360.” Dr Lindsay called out. “Everyone… CLEAR!” The shock ripped through the room, the sound of Ella’s body being practically thrown off the table a sharp reminder of how tenuous the battle for her life truly was. Still no change. The monitor continued to display the erratic waves of v-fib, mocking their every attempt. Lindsay’s gaze turned to Nancy. “How long has she been down?” asked the doctor. Nancy’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, and her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. “Twenty six minutes Linds.” Answered Nancy. “We need to make a decision. She’s not responding to anything.” Dr. Jen inhaled sharply, her gaze briefly meeting Dr Sarah’s. “Push another epi.” Lindsay said, her tone sharp, eyes never leaving the monitor. Nancy quickly prepared the next round of epinephrine. The team had already been through so much, and they were running out of time. Their movements, while practiced, were also beginning to show the strain of prolonged, relentless effort. Heather resumed compressions as the drugs were delivered.

The room buzzed with the constant hum of machines, the beeping of monitors and the rhythmic sound of chest compressions. The team worked in near perfect unison, but the clock was their enemy. With each passing minute, hope seemed to slip further away. “Charging again to 360.” Dr Lindsay’s voice echoed, her eyes locked onto the defibrillator as it whirred to life again. “CLEAR!” As the shock hit, Ella’s slender frame jerked violently on the table. The force of it caused her bare feet to kick up at the far end, lifting off the table for a split second before slamming back down with a thud. For a brief moment, the soft, subtle wrinkles of her size 9 soles were on full display. “Still no change.” Dr Sarah observed, eyes narrowing at the monitor, where v-fib still flashed across the screen. “Keep pushing!” Lindsay urged. “We can’t stop now. Another round of compressions, Heather.” Lindsay added. Heather didn’t waste any time. She leaned back into position, pressing her palms into Ella’s chest with a brutal force. With each compression, Ella’s head lolled, her hair swaying ever so slightly with the rhythm, her face still locked in terror. A series of beeps followed, signaling that the defibrillator was ready once more. “Charging to 360 everyone.” Dr Jen called out this time, her voice tinged with urgency. “Clear!” Once again, the shock hit Ella’s chest with brutal force, and her toes curled, reacting to the shock with an involuntary response, showing off the black nail polish on her toes, along with the cute wrinkles in the soles of her feet. Still, the heart monitor continued to display the chaotic spikes of v-fib, unyielding in its disarray. “Nothing…” Dr Lindsay muttered. “AGAIN!” The team, now pushing past exhaustion, administered another round of shocks, one after another- 360 joules each time, but with no change. Finally, after a third unsuccessful shock, the room felt tense.

Nancy glanced at the clock. Her voice, barely above a whisper, cut through the tension. “Forty two minutes, Linds.” The words hung in the air. Forty-two minutes. The odds of success were growing slimmer with each passing second. Dr Sarah exhaled sharply, glancing at Dr Jen, whose brow was furrowed in concentration. They all knew what the numbers meant, but none of them dared to speak it aloud. The monitor still showed v-fib, mocking all the team’s efforts up to that point.

Dr Lindsay’s voice broke through the tension. “Heather, resume compressions!” Heather didn’t flinch. She was already back in position, hands pressed firmly against Ella’s chest, delivering yet another round of brutal, unrelenting compressions. The steady rhythm echoed, a constant in the chaos, as if her life still had a chance- if only for a moment longer.

Dr Jen, her eyes focused on the monitor, took a step to the head of the bed. She moved slowly, her gaze drawn down to Ella’s face. Ella’s green eyes remained unnervingly wide open, staring helplessly at the ceiling. The glazed, lifeless death stare made her appear more like a forgotten doll than a beautiful young woman in the throes of a desperate fight for survival. The vacant gaze was cold, unblinking, locked in place as if her body had already accepted what her mind could not. Jen swallowed hard, her throat tight with a mixture of professional detachment and the raw sting of helplessness. She leaned in, pulling a penlight from her scrub pocket and shining it into Ella’s wide open eyes. The light flicked across her pupils, but they didn’t react. The glow of the light reflected back with the cold, indifferent stare of a body already slipping further away. “Pupils fixed and dilated…” Dr Jen observed, her voice barely audible, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. She took a step back, a troubled frown crossing her face as she shook her head, unable to hide the quiet disbelief. It wasn’t just the absence of any reaction to the light- it was the utter lack of life in Ella’s expression, as though her soul had already departed. Dr Sarah looked up from the monitor, meeting Jen’s eyes for a brief moment. The wordless exchange spoke volumes- their collective knowledge of what they were likely facing now. “She’s gone, isn’t she?” the resident asked. Lindsay’s eyes were cold, calculating. She didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to admit it- but the signs were impossible to ignore. She didn’t answer Jen immediately, focusing instead on the monitor as another cycle of compressions was completed. The v-fib was still there- persistent, chaotic, and now undeniably futile. “She’s not gone yet.” Lindsay finally said, her voice unwavering, though her words carried the bitter edge of disbelief. Jen nodded, though her expression remained pained. There was a subtle shift in her posture, the weight of the decision sinking in. They were pushing past the point of reason now- fighting for a life that might have already slipped through their fingers.

The defibrillator charged with a menacing hum, the quiet tension in the room palpable. “CLEAR!” Dr Sarah’s voice rang out, and in a single, tense moment, the shock hit Ella’s body with a violent jolt. Ella’s slender frame jerked sharply on the table, the electricity coursing through her body with an uncontrollable force. Her back arched slightly before slamming back down, her feet lifting briefly once more before crashing to the table. For just a split second, the brief twitch of her muscles seemed almost… human. But it was fleeting, just as everything else had been. Once again, the chaos on the monitor didn’t subside. V-fib persisted, a constant visual reminder that no matter how many times they shocked her, her heart refused to resume a proper rhythm. Heather, ever steady, resumed chest compressions immediately, the crunch of each compression reverberating in the room. Her movements were practiced and deliberate, a well oiled machine in sync with the others. But before long, Dr Lindsay held up a hand, halting the cycle. “Stop…” she said quietly, but with an undeniable finality. Heather paused, her hands still hovering over Ella’s bruised, battered chest as she looked up, waiting for the next instruction. Lindsay’s gaze remained fixed on the monitor, her eyes narrowing at the stubborn, erratic lines of v-fib. Her lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of the situation getting to her. Finally, she sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment, before speaking the words that everyone in the room had been dreading. “She’s gone. Time of death… 21:55.” Lindsay shook her head. She turned away from the table, her frustration spilling out in a short, sharp exhale. The decision to call the time of death was never easy, but there was something particularly brutal about this moment. The countless attempts, the shock after shock, the tireless effort- it all meant nothing in the face of this. The team stood motionless for a moment, the weight of the loss settling over them. The room that had been filled with the chaos of resuscitation now felt oppressive in its silence. Heather slowly pulled her hands away from Ella’s chest, her face hard to read as she stood up, stepping back.

Dr Sarah, who had remained silent through the exchange, stepped forward with a slow, deliberate breath. Her gaze lingered on Ella’s face, the wide, unblinking eyes staring back at her, frozen in time. Jen was the next to speak, her voice subdued. “I’ve never seen a body hold on so long… like that.”

Dr Lindsay’s frustration deepened, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter as she stared down at the lifeless figure on the table. She didn’t reply to Jen immediately, instead filling out the paperwork with mechanical precision, marking the inevitable as if it were just another task. But the look on her face said it all. She wasn’t okay with this. “You did everything you could, Linds” Dr Sarah said softly, stepping beside her to offer some measure of comfort, but the words felt hollow.

The room was still, except for the soft rustle of movements as the team shifted into the next phase of their task. Nancy moved first, her hands shaking slightly as she detached the ambu bag from Ella’s ET tube. Next, Dr Lindsay reached over and turned off the heart monitor. The beeping- once erratic and frantic, now just a slow, steady buzz of failure- came to a sudden stop. Nurse Heather moved to the other side of the bed, her gloved fingers working methodically as she disconnected the EKG wires from Ella’s torso. The defib pads were peeled off, their sticky residue a faint reminder of the futile attempts to bring Ella back to life. With a small, practiced tug, Heather pulled the wires free, coiling them neatly as she set them aside, careful to avoid disturbing the fragile quiet that had settled over the room. Then, as if in slow motion, Dr Sarah stepped forward, her eyes looking down at Ella. She retrieved the toe tag from the corner of the room, the heavy paper crinkling in her hands. Her pen hovered for a brief moment over the space for time of death. It was already etched In her mind, a number that had haunted her since the moment they’d called it. With a steady hand, Dr Sarah filled out the rest of the tag. Afterwards, she glanced one final time at the patient- no longer a person they were fighting to save, but simply a body now- and placed the tag on the big toe of Ella’s left foot. The tag dangled gently against the wrinkled soles of Ella’s feet. Dr Jen stepped forward, her face a mask of quiet resolve. She moved to the side of the bed, pulling a cover from a nearby cart. With careful hands, she draped the cover over Ella’s body. The sheet covered everything except her toe tagged feet. The team stood back, an unspoken respect filling the air as they took one last look at the lifeless form before them. The sheet settled over Ella’s face, and with it, the last remnants of her terrified, vacant stare were hidden from view- concealed forever beneath the sterile fabric. “Let’s move her to the morgue…” Dr Lindsay said, her voice unexpectedly soft, almost apologetic. The words broke the silence like a whispered command. Without another word, the team began the quiet, methodical process of preparing Ella’s body for transport. Just like that, Ella became the latest beauty to find herself toe tagged and under a sheet in our emergency department.

[cpr23]

CPRDefib

[dr-fetish37]

rejuvenecimiento pt.2

habían pasado un par de semanas después de mi cirugía, lo primero que había hecho después de salir del hospital había sido comprar varios paquetes de pañales para adulto, no me había preocupado en que tipo de pañales comprar pues no creí que hubiera de varios tipos hasta que descubrí mi cama mojada una mañana después de dormir con un pañal delgado así que tuve que volver a la farmacia por un paquete de pañales más grandes y gruesos, antes de mi cirugía acostumbraba a dormir desnuda por lo que ahora dormir con el grueso y cómodo material de los pañales me era algo extraño pero no desagradable.

la doctora me había dicho que había una posibilidad de operar mi incontinencia pero aún no estaba segura de si quería someterme a otra cirugía vaginal, pues ahora esta habría a mi vagina y ano hipersensibles para que pudiera sentir cuando tuviera necesidades fisiológicas.

sin embargo, cuando me interne para la cirugía las cosas se tornaron difíciles para mí y mi sistema cardiovascular, me encontraba acostada en la camilla, con una gorra quirúrgica, vistiendo únicamente mi pañal cubierta con una sábana, los doctores me habían tenido que intubar para la cirugía y habían tapado mis ojos con gasas y cinta médica, cuando comenzaron a suministrar la anestesia, mi corazón comenzaba a latir con pesadez, hasta que se detuvo por completo, escuchaba a las enfermeras moverse con prisa.

la doctora comenzó a hacer presión en mi pecho, mis senos brincaban al ritmo del RCP, mi cabeza se movía de arriba a abajo en la almohada, mi pelvis también se contraía haciendo sonar el pañal rozando contra la camilla, de tanta fuerza que los doctores estaban generando sobre mi cuerpo, había orinado mi pañal.

"carguen 160, uno, dos tres ¡despejen!"

después de un minuto de constante y duro rcp, la doctora se acercó a mis senos con las paletas

la doctora descargo las paletas contra mi pecho, haciendo que mi tronco se arqueara y mis senos rebotaran, mi cabeza se pegó más contra la almohada y se movía de un lado a otro, mi pelvis se alzó en en aire dando un golpe fuerte a la nada que rompió mi columna, el pañal volvió a sonar sobre la camilla.

"carguen una vez más, está vez 360, uno dos tres ¡despejen!"

nueva mente la ginecóloga descargo las paletas contra mis senos, mi pelvis se alzó en el aire contrayendo mi vagina y mi ano, por la fuerza de la contracción mi vejiga volvió a soltar orina mojando más el pañal, una vez que mi pelvis dejó de estar en el aire, cayó von fuerza sobre la camilla haciendo que mo cabeza y mi tronco se alzarán hacia adelante, al caer de nuevo a la camilla mis senos brincaron en todas direcciones con los pezones erizados por la electricidad.

aún nada, mi corazón seguía sin latir, cuando de repente mi cuerpo comenzó a convulsiónar, mis pechos se movían y temblaban de un lado a otro, mi pelvis se alzaba en el aire y caía chocando contra la camilla, mi cabeza se movía de un lado a otro y de arriba hacia abajo, el monitor se había vuelto loco.

después de 7 minutos de convulsionar, los monitores dieron por perdida mi actividad cerebral, por lo que la doctora acercó las paletas desfibriladoras a mi cabeza yas descargó en mis sienes.

mi pecho y pelvis se alzaron bruscamente en el aire y ahí se mantuvieron por al menos 15 segundos mientras la doctora descargaba las paletas en mi cabeza, en un ciclo de 15 minutos de intentar regresar mi actividad cerebral.

antes de darme por muerta, la doctora retiró mi pañal, y colocó a cada lado de mi vagina desfibriladores, también colocó uno en cada uno de mis senos y finalmente volvió a colocar las paletas en mi cabeza, y descargó los tres al mismo tiempo, todo mi cuerpo tembló, mi pelvis y mi pecho se movían de arriba a abajo, mi cabeza rebotaba suavemente contra la almohada y la doctora mantenía los desfibriladores en mis sienes, mis senos rebotaban de arriba a abajo de manera exagerada y mi vagina soltaba orina y aire.

después de 20 minutos más de desfibrilación finalmente fue declarada mi hora de muerte.

"hora de muerte: 1:29 a.m. paciente: jean causa: paro cardio respiratorio"

las enfermeras se encargaron de quitarme los cables y los tubos, colocaron algodón a lo largo de mi vagina y mi ano, también en mi nariz y mi boca, y al terminar, llevaron la camilla con mi cuerpo desnudo sobre ella a la morgue.