Cheyne StokesCheyne Stokes
That was how it started at least. I was sitting in the chair next to his bed and all of a sudden (sudden? how could he have just... slipped?) he was in cheyne stokes.
I dropped the head of his bed down, checked his pulse (Tony! Where was Tony? This was supposed to be Telemetry!) and began...
One and two and three and ...
(Where is everyone? I shouldn't be here!)
Four and five and six and...
(Where is the cart?)
Seven and eight and -
Tony came falling through the door, took one look, called Code and went for the ambu-bag - which wasn't there.
Nine and ten and eleven and -
And Tony just began to breathe for the man lying there - no equipment, no protection, just mouth on mouth - basic, no bells & whistles, just life.
I felt the old man's ribs crack, saw him bounce on the hard mattress with each thrust of my palms, saw the sweat bead on Tony's forehead but none of that mattered - nothing mattered except keeping the blood flowing through the old man's heart and brain.