Absolutely Aching For Some Compressions. Just Use Me 😩

Chapter 1: Out of Breath

Megan Turner was used to working under pressure. Fifteen years as a paramedic had trained her body to react without hesitation, her mind to stay calm even when everything around her was falling apart. But as she pulled her ambulance to the side of the empty country road, something felt different. Something was wrong—not with the scene, but with her.

The call had come in about a young woman—Anna Patterson, mid-twenties—who’d collapsed while running along the rural stretch of road. Megan spotted her instantly, a bright neon tank top making her small figure easy to see against the brown, sun-baked landscape. She didn’t waste a second.

Her breath quickened as she grabbed her medical bag and rushed to the runner’s side. Kneeling on the gravel shoulder, Megan immediately checked for a pulse at Anna’s neck. It was weak, thready, almost nonexistent. She could feel the faint flutter beneath her fingertips, as though life was slipping away.

The CPR training kicked in automatically.

Megan placed her interlocked hands at the center of Anna’s chest, just below the sternum, and began compressions. "Stay with me," she murmured. She pressed down hard, her strong arms forcing her weight into each compression, the rhythm coming naturally after years of practice: 100 to 120 beats per minute, enough force to push the chest at least two inches deep.

But as she counted out loud, something shifted inside her own chest. At first, it was just a twinge—an uncomfortable tightness she assumed was from fatigue. She had been on the job for 12 hours, after all, running on little more than adrenaline and coffee. It wasn’t unusual to feel some discomfort after a long day.

Then the twinge turned into pain—sharp and sudden, right beneath her breastbone. She froze for a split second, inhaling deeply to see if it would pass. It didn’t. Instead, the pain spread, radiating out from her chest to her left arm. Megan’s fingers faltered on Anna’s chest, her brain struggling to process what was happening. She knew this feeling—tightness, pressure, pain shooting down her arm.

A heart attack.

Her mind screamed at her to stop, to call for help, but the paramedic in her wouldn’t allow it. Not yet. Not while Anna needed her. Megan clenched her jaw and continued compressions. She knew what the stakes were. The young runner’s chest heaved slightly under Megan’s hands as she pressed, but there was still no breath, no sign of life.

Thirty compressions, then two breaths, she reminded herself, forcing her thoughts back to the procedure. Megan grabbed her mask, sealed it over Anna’s mouth and nose, and breathed for her—two deep breaths, making sure the chest rose. Back to compressions. One, two, three—her arms were moving, but her body was failing.

The pain in her chest became unbearable, like a vise closing around her heart. Each breath she tried to take was shallow, like breathing through a straw. She could feel the sweat running down her back, her forehead damp despite the cool breeze cutting across the open road. Her hand instinctively moved to her chest, pressing against the ache as if she could hold her heart together through sheer force of will.

She ignored the warning signs at first. Nausea. Cold sweats. Lightheadedness. They were symptoms she had seen in her patients a hundred times, but her body refused to acknowledge them. Not now. She had to keep going. One, two, three…

But with each compression, her arms grew weaker, her breaths more labored. The stabbing pain in her chest intensified, like a fist squeezing her heart tighter with each beat. She pressed harder on Anna's sternum, trying to focus on her technique, trying to block out the pain. The runner’s chest barely moved beneath her hands, but Megan kept going, her teeth gritted against the rising tide of agony in her own body.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit her, and the world tilted. Megan’s hands slipped, her vision blurred, and she almost fell forward onto Anna’s body. She caught herself, barely, her fingers trembling as they found their place back on the runner’s chest.

"Come on," she whispered, half to Anna, half to herself. But the pain in her chest was no longer something she could push through. It was crushing her, every breath a struggle. The stabbing sensation had become an overwhelming pressure, spreading to her neck, her jaw, even her back. It wasn’t just her arm now; her entire upper body felt like it was caving in.

Her hand hovered over her radio as she forced out another breath. "Dispatch…" Her voice was weak, shaking, barely audible. “I...need assistance. Paramedic down."

Her heart was failing her, the rhythm that she had trusted for so long spiraling out of control. Each beat felt erratic, as if her heart were skipping over itself, racing and slowing unpredictably. The irony was bitter—performing CPR while her own heart was giving out.

The world dimmed as the pain reached its peak. She could feel herself slipping, collapsing beside Anna. Her hands fell from the runner’s chest, her body giving in at last. As Megan lay there on the hot gravel, her face pressed against the cool earth, she thought of Anna—of the life she was supposed to save. Would anyone come for them?

Presentation anxiety visualized by the brilliant Tael Arte It is such a turn on for me to think about how so many people around us have overcaffeinated hearts secretly pounding

Not normally a time called person but when I'm in the mood for it this is where I go!

Life and Death in the ER: Dr Lindsay

*Good evening everyone, I hope all is well. I greatly appreciate all the positive feedback on my last story Alexa's Arrhythmia! I'd like to try something a little different with the story you're about to read. Although it may not be everyone's cup of tea, I think it's a great opportunity for you guys to get to know some of our go-to characters a little better. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!*

Aside from medicine, Dr Lindsay’s passion in life is running. The cute, sporty tomboy doctor we all know and love was a college track star at the D1 college she attended once upon a time ago. Believe it or not, Lindsay had legitimate Olympic aspirations, and at one point in time, she was set to qualify for the United States women’s track team. But fate had other plans, which came in the form of a sudden, severe ACL and LCL tear in her left knee. Reconstructive surgery was performed and she of course recovered, but Lindsay definitely lost her X factor. Even though Lindsay could still run circles around 99% of humanity as a 33 year old with a bum knee, she lost that slight edge all those years ago, which is all it took for her Olympic hopes and dreams to go up in smoke. Sometimes Lindsay thought “what if?” in regards to her potential professional sports career, but at the same time, being an ER physician fulfilled her in a different way.

Lindsay truly embraced her role as a doctor and caretaker in the emergency department, always going the extra mile for her patients and thinking outside the box to try to save them. Time after time, Dr Lindsay found herself in the midst of life and death struggles in the trauma bay, always seeming to have her hands inside the chest of a beautiful woman. But right now, somewhere in an alternate reality, the role was reversed, with Lindsay being the beauty fighting for her life in the all too familiar emergency department.

The room Lindsay found herself in was quite a scene. A cacophony of sound hit anyone the instant they set foot in the room. Alarms and monitors were going off. Orders were being barked. Footsteps pitter-pattered around the room. The high pitched, electrical whirring of defibrillators charging echoed around the room from yet another unsuccessful shock. The tension was palpable.

All across the floor of the room, various items were strewn about. Wrappers from bits of medical equipment were tossed to the ground. Empty, used up blood transfusion and IV bags found themselves discarded. Lindsay’s bloody, tattered clothes also wound up on the light colored tile after a brief encounter with a set of shears. Small droplets of blood made a trail leading from the room’s entrance, all the way over to where the trauma room table was.

On the table, underneath the harsh, bright, fluorescent overhead light was the center of attention for the room’s occupants. Dr Sarah, Nurse Nancy, and Nurse Heather worked as a trio, each lady knowing their role inside out, backwards and forwards, from A to Z. Everyone knew their jobs at an expert level, but it was easier said than done for the emergency department’s triumvirate to maintain composure and impartiality, considering a friend and colleague was the poor soul requiring their lifesaving services this time.

Nurse Nancy, the 20+ year veteran of the ER who’s been there, done that, and seen it all stood at the head of the bed ambu bagging, sending much needed air into Dr Lindsay’s lungs. The stress, chaos, gore, and shock that came with being an ER nurse never fazed Nancy, especially after being exposed to such things for over two decades. But in this scenario, Nancy struggled. This wasn’t a stranger on the table tonight. Nurse Nancy couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of the ER’s go-to, unanimously loved leader being the one on the table this time. Heck, Nancy couldn’t even bring herself to look down at the table, not wanting to see her friend’s face, or the overall shape she was in. There was a knot in Nancy’s stomach, and her heart was racing. She hoped and prayed Dr Lindsay would pull through, but as each minute ticked by, each one faster than the last, Nancy’s hope was soon replaced by dread.

Heather, our emergency team’s dependable, hardworking nurse who regularly showed her moxie, stood off to the side of the table, tasked with keeping an eye on the heart monitors in order to note any changes, as well as pushing meds and setting up any equipment Dr Sarah may need. Heather’s eyes were trained on the heart monitors, which displayed a squiggly, sinuous, unorganized line. That squiggly line Heather watched signified something called ventricular fibrillation- a situation where a patient’s heart is twitching instead of actually beating, typically requiring a defibrillator shock in order to restore normal cardiac activity. Ventricular fibrillation, commonly known as v-fib amongst healthcare professionals, was something Heather has seen more times than she could count during her handful of years as a nurse. However, Heather found herself stunned when eyeing the heart monitor, coming to the stark realization that a familiar face was the one being resuscitated this time.

Dr Sarah, the cute, petite, nerdy redheaded doctor who, for all intents and purposes, was Dr Lindsay’s right hand man and most important ally in the battlegrounds of the trauma bay, stood right up against the table, doing anything and everything to bring her fellow ER doc back. Sarah had her gloved hands inside Lindsay’s chest, which was splayed open earlier in the struggle via a clamshell thoracotomy. The redheaded doctor’s hands were firmly wrapped around Dr Lindsay’s boggy, fibrillating heart, vigorously massaging away. A wet, rhythmic squishing sound was produced from Sarah’s internal compressions. “come on Linds… come on….” Sarah uttered under her breath, trying to fight the overwhelming emotions that attempted to consume her. “You were just talking to us Linds… Come on…” continued Sarah, trying to will Lindsay back amongst the living.

Sarah composed herself for a moment. “Let’s shock her again. Recharge the paddles to 30, Heather.” Ordered Sarah, stepping up to the plate. Heather did what she had to do. She set the crash cart to 30 joules and hit the charge button. The high pitched, electrical whining of the internal paddles charging filled the room as Heather handed Sarah the large, spoon shaped devices. Sarah pulled her hands out of Lindsay’s chest cavity and grabbed ahold of the internal paddles. Dr Sarah lowered the internal paddles into the gaping chasm of an incision site, around Lindsay’s erratically fluttering heart.

While her friends worked urgently to save her, Lindsay laid on the table, stripped completely nude, her toned, athletic body on full display in a room full of familiar faces, the violating nature of that fact going to the wayside due to the dire essence of the situation. Lindsay’s sandy, light brown hair was tied back in a messy bun or ponytail of sorts, being held in place with a black headband. The doctor’s icy, sky blue eyes remained open, her pupils the size of dimes, staring up above with a full blown death stare etched onto her face. She was intubated, with the ET tube being secured by a blue tube holder around the area of her mouth and lips. IV lines stuck out of both her arms. Her torso was littered with EKG electrodes and wires. A chest tube stuck out the left side of Lindsay’s ribs, redirecting blood and trapped air outwards. The rest of her upper torso, and belly to a lesser degree, were soaked with a combination of both blood and betadine. However, Lindsay’s chest was the main sight of shock and awe. Her chest had a large, crude, gash just below the nipple line, extending the entirety of her chest horizontally. Not only was there a massive gash, her sternum was sawed in half, and her chest was splayed open via a clamshell thoracotomy. A metal rib retractor sat dead center in her chest, keeping everything open. A large, metal vascular clamp stuck up and out of the incision site. Sarah could also be seen holding the internal defibrillator paddles in place in anticipation of a shock.

“Paddles charged. Everyone… CLEAR!” Dr Sarah called out, everyone else stepping back from the table. THWACK. The shock was delivered. “mmmph…” Lindsay moaned softly, her torso twitching sharply in response to Sarah’s shock. The trio paused after the shock. The monitors beeped fast and loud, everyone’s eyes looking over to see if there was a change. “Come on… she’s still in v-fib. I’m going again at 30. Everyone…. CLEAR!” shouted Dr Sarah, immediately shocking Lindsay again. Lindsay’s shoulders shrugged forward and her arms shivered, a wet thump being heard. Like before, Dr Lindsay’s heartbeat was unable to be restored. Sarah decided to up the ante, shocking her friend and coworker at 40 joules during the next go around. “MMMM!” Lindsay moaned louder, as if she could feel the stronger intensity of the shock. Again, v-fib persisted. “I’m going again at 40! Everyone…CLEAR!” Barked Sarah, determined to keep going. The next shock caused Lindsay’s toes to scrunch up hard at the far end of the table, showing off the bright white nail polish on her toes, along with the wavy, thin, but prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of the big, size 11 feet she was always so self conscious of.

Sarah wasn’t giving up, and neither was v-fib, so the fight was on. “Going again at 40! Everyone… CLEAR!!!” Sarah passionately yelled out, shocking Lindsay once more. Lindsay’s torso shot up and plopped back down hard all within the span of a second. The monitors kept alarming, but by that point, the trio tuned out the noise of the monitors, considering they were well aware there was a major problem. In the seconds after that shock, Lindsay’s heart fluttered and danced weakly for a moment, before coming to a sudden, complete stop. The heart monitors flatlined, and Lindsay’s heart sat completely motionless inside her cracked open chest. Lindsay’s beautiful blue eyes stayed wide open, staring up above, almost as if she was watching her friends determine their next move.

The flatline on the monitors was an absolute gut punch for everyone. Sarah stood there holding the internal paddles, deep in rumination about her next move. At the head of the bed, Nurse Nancy shined a pen light into Lindsay’s eyes. Lindsay’s pupils were the size of dimes, completely blown, not reacting to the pen light in the slightest. “oh… poor baby…” Nancy uttered, placing the pen light back in her breast pocket. “Pupils fixed and dilated.” Nancy continued, informing everyone, shaking her head. Heather looked over at the heart monitor. “Asystole on the monitors, down 37 minutes.” Added Heather. There was a collective pause after Heather’s words. Nancy didn’t say anything, but she went ahead and detached the ambu bag from the ET tube, a small amount of air quietly hissing out. The two nurses looked over at Sarah, knowing they’ve done all they could for their friend, but needed Sarah to make the final call.

Dr Sarah stood there shell shocked. Sure, Sarah has lost patients before- any ER doctor has. But this was different. This was a coworker. A colleague. A leader. Someone she looked up to. But most importantly, this was a friend. Sarah felt morally and emotionally obligated to continue resuscitation efforts. How could she just give up on Lindsay? At the same time, Dr Sarah viewed the situation clinically and logically. She knew that all possible options were exhausted. An asystolic patient with a downtime of 37 minutes and blown pupils was too far gone for additional interventions. With all this in mind, Sarah snapped back to reality, eyeing each member of the trauma team. Dr Sarah didn’t say a word to any of them. Finally, her eyes looked over at the clock that sat on the back left wall of the room. Sarah gently placed the internal paddles back down on the crash cart, then peeled her blood soaked, latex gloves off, her heart racing, eventually making the dreaded announcement. “Time of death, 8:08pm…” Sarah’s voice wobbling, on the verge of tears.

Nobody said a word, but everyone knew exactly what to do next. Nurse Nancy switched off the flatlined monitors, silencing the once noisy, hectic room. Heather disconnected the EKG electrodes and removed the IVs from each of Dr Lindsay’s arms. A blue surgical drape was hastily tossed on top of the open thoracotomy site, obscuring Lindsay’s inert, motionless heart from view. A toe tag was then filled out and placed on the big toe of Lindsay’s left foot. The tag dangled against the fine, thin, but prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of Lindsay’s feet. Lastly, a cover was placed over Lindsay, concealing the hauntingly beautiful gaze forever etched onto her face. Unfortunately for Lindsay, a cruel twist of fate- and perhaps irony resulted in her dying in the very place she spent so much of her time. In this alternate reality, Dr Lindsay was now the hottie who laid toe tagged and under a sheet in the emergency department.

NOBODY SHOULD SCROLL PAST THIS!

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Reblog if you would stay up all night with someone you care about, just to talk them out of suicide.

I thought that it won't be possible to give this Aerith holter leads, but I did it from my other PC so quality is better. Rock your heart rhythm Aerith!

Even at rest, my heart is pounding hard enough to be a bit visible🩺

Hello my rescuers your Morena latina feel better 🦋🔥

The doctor revived her lifeless patient with all her might,but now she is having an angina attack... is she gonna make it?😮‍💨🫀