Once Upon A Wonderland~ Killian Jones

Words or Weapons?

Word count: 1,709

Time was going in slow motion. Nothing mattered except the patient. Except my brain seemed to think that something did. I was acutely aware of the metal gurney digging into my knees as I knelt on the mattress next to the patient, who, if I stopped CPR, would die. My voice steadily counting the compressions was muffled I my ears. A murky one, two, three, four, five. The wind created by the speed of the gurney blew my hair in front of my focused face almost angelically. My brain was focused on one thing and one thing only.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The world sped up when one of the wheels banged against the wall and rattled the moving bed. My vision spun dramatically as we skidded into a trauma room. "Get a crash cart!" I bellowed, still doing the chest compressions.

"C'mon, c'mon..." I muttered to myself as the staff set up a heart monitor around me. They were too slow today, maybe because of the lack of trauma or the unusually warm day or the fact that it was Sunday and most of us weren't supposed to be at work. The only thing I'd been doing all day was filing, charts, and post-ops and I'd been praying for a trauma all day and the minute we get one they can't find a crash cart, despite it being the most important medical item at the hospital.

"What's the heart rate at?" I asked my intern, Stephanie.

"Too low, Dr. Hartfords." She answered me. I huffed in annoyance.

"What's the number, Stephanie."

"Oh, it's 58."

"Dammit." I muttered. I did my compressions harder. "Where's that crash cart?!"

"We're right here Grace, you can step down now." Dr. Whale said, coming up beside me. I stopped the chest compressions and hopped off the gurney, simultaneously ripping open the man's shirt. A nurse handed me shock paddles.

"Charge to 200." I commanded, holding the paddles to attention.

"Charged!" She replied. I placed the paddles on the man's chest and braced myself as the shock coursed through the metal, the jolt of it nearly sending me flying.

The heart monitor briefly skyrocketed from the charge before flatlining again in a monotone, never ending beep.

"Charge to 300!" I roared again. placing the paddles back on his chest. The crash cart whirred and shook as it filled with electricity and I locked my jaw, knowing that if we lost a patient on such a slow day it would not set a good reputation for the hospital.

"Charged." The nurse said back to me. I pushed the paddles deeper into the man's chest. I was connected to this dying man, him and me. He wanted to live. I wanted him to live. It was my job to make sure he lived. Maybe, if I wished just like the people in the fairy tales did, this man would not die. If I pressed the paddles deep enough, if I willed it hard enough, would this man live?

My fingertips tingled as the shock came and my gaze shot to the heart monitor. Nothing. Only the steady beeping. I watched it, begging, pleading, willing. Live.

"Should I charge again, Doctor?" The nurse asked.

"No," I replied. I had a feeling in my gut. "Just wait."