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Carrie is intubated and on life support awating the ventilator connection to her ET tube
Sedated Resuscitation - The Ketamine Infusion
This was a commissioned work - an example of what I could create for you, should you decide to commission me!Â
>>CONTENT NOTICE: male-on-male, D/s dynamic, consenting non-consent, dark cardiophilia, sexual cardiophilia, resuscitation kink<<
Sebastian was anxious.
The lean young man bounced his leg and let his eyes wander around the well-kept bedroom as he waited. He knew the doctor was doing this on purpose—letting him steep in desperate anticipation—but he tried his best to be patient.
It always paid off to be patient with Dr. James Moore.
Sebastian mused about how his long-time found himself in a near-perfect circumstance to be a dreamy medical Dom as he waited, what with having just graduated veterinary school a year ago—combined with the steady financial supplements he continued to receive from rich and generous parents that lived a few provinces over, he’d accumulated a robust collection of equipment for their scenes.
Sebastian jolted when James finally opened the door. He was taller than him—but only just—at six feet tall, and his muscular chest and arms bulged beneath his teal blue scrubs.
“Hmph,” the handsome green-eyed man stifled a giggle when Sebastian was palpably startled out of his thoughts. The patient stood up and eagerly made his way over to him before he could even get the magic words out of his mouth, “the doctor will see you now. Come on in.”
The walk-in closet beyond had been converted into a small but perfectly serviceable clinical space. It wasn’t Sebastian’s first time in James’ fun room, but it was his first time being led inside specifically to be drugged, and he was instantly enthralled with the sight of the setup awaiting him. On top of the inclined procedure table, there was a neatly folded patient gown, and on either side of it, there were monitoring implements for his vital signs as well as the recent addition of a fluid monitor for intravenous infusion.
“Please change into this.” James tapped the gown. “With nothing underneath.”
Sebastian quietly sucked air through his teeth at the dominant tone he’d suddenly taken with him. He cleared his throat nervously before speaking, “whatever you need, daddy…”
James turned and deliberately watched his patient undress from across the table. Sebastian was long and lean, and he was anxious to examine and caress the athletic body that awaited him. He grew more excited in his own quietly stoic way when Sebastian turned around fully nude, with his perfect cock prominently on display at the end of the thin-but-distinctive treasure trail on his toned abs.
“Should I put it on with the front open or the back?” he asked with a suggestive grin tugging at the corners of his full pink lips.
“Front,” James cracked a smile as he pulled it over his shoulders. “Now, be a good boy and lay down so I can take your vital signs.”
Sebastian did as he was told, and James pushed up one of his sleeves so he could wrap a blood pressure cuff around it. He set it to go off and clipped a pulse oximeter onto his index finger as it inflated.
“Nervous?” James asked knowingly when the display revealed his heart rate was hovering around 100 BPM.
Sebastian held his breath for a beat. “Well, yeah… but I’m also excited…”
James tapped the display over the fluctuating diastolic pressure number as it got its reading. “Your blood pressure better be normal when I get back, then. I want to proceed with the experiment immediately.”
His stomach did a flip when James demanded that his blood pressure be within normal range. He knew it wasn’t something he could really control—and something about those facts together had him intensely turned on.
Before he could ask where, exactly, he was going, James had already left the room. He turned his attention to the small monitor on wheels to his left and watched his own heart rate with fascination while he waited for the reading on his blood pressure.
The quiet hiss of the cuff releasing its accumulated air soon followed, and Sebastian blew out a sigh of relief when he saw it was 131/75—he knew James would find this acceptable. He watched with an idle, relaxed grin as the doctor entered the room again with an IV bag of clear fluid—he reasoned that must be it, and his pulse spiked with excitement.
“Good, your BP is normal,” James smiled at him with his eyes as he hung the IV bag on a hook somewhere above and to the right of the patient’s head. “I need you to be calm for this procedure.”
“I’ll—“ Sebastian inhaled sharply and shivered when James ran one of his hands down his neck and chest. He pressed into his left pectoral with enough pressure to feel his heartbeat beneath, and for a few fleeting seconds, he massaged his nipple between his fingertips. “I’ll try my best…”
“Heh,” James chuffed when his submissive immediately began to writhe and moan softly as his touch. “God, you’re such a little slut.”
“Hhh—ah,” Sebastian winced with pleasure when he pinched his nipple to punctuate his point. “You—you like it.”
“You’re right,” James said yieldingly when he turned around to find a previously-prepared sheet of electrodes. He continued to explain as he pressed them in place on the smooth, tan skin of Sebastian’s chest, “I’m going to put you on the heart monitor now—ketamine is a type of anesthetic, after all… and I need to know right away if your pretty little pump is going to take to it well.”
Sebastian felt a sharp pang of arousal grip him when James tapped his fingers on his sternum as he spoke about his heart. After a badly-stifled involuntary moan, he managed to say, “you know what’s best…”
He finished snapping the ends of the cables in place on the electrodes, and right away, the second display on the patient’s right side began to trace his heart’s rhythm, as well as his respirations and blood pressure. Everything came up normal for how visibly excited he was, and James swung the pewter-grey stethoscope over his head from around his neck so he could use it.
“Lay quietly and breathe normally while I listen to your chest,” James commanded coolly.
 Sebastian nodded and watched with barely-contained arousal as he put the instrument in his ears and pressed the diaphragm over his aortic valve. He looked up at the monitor after placing the bell on his chest, and Sebastian could feel himself become hard at the intense wave of vulnerability that overcame him upon realizing just how much attention was being paid to his heart at the moment.
When James looked back down at his patient to reposition the stethoscope over his pulmonic valve, he noticed how tortured and turned on he looked, and he saw him reaching for his stiff member out of the corner of his eye.
“Ah ah ah,” the doctor tutted disapprovingly and pulled Sebastian’s hand away while he continued to listen to his heart. “I told you I need you to be calm for this procedure.”
“I think,” Sebastian spoke quietly, knowing his voice was very amplified to the doctor at the moment, “you’re just saying that so I’ll cooperate.”
James ripped the stethoscope out of his ears and let it fall on Sebastian’s torso before he grabbed his other wrist. He looked down at him pointedly while he held both his hands in an almost-painfully tight grip against his chest.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Sebastian.”
James’ eyes pierced his own like daggers as he warned him of his apparent options. He held his gaze; he knew James had to release his grip in order to continue the scene, but he wanted to let him know in no uncertain terms that this was one of those times where the hard way was the preferred way.
“When I let go, are you going to behave?”
Sebastian beamed at him so innocuously, it could only be interpreted as mischievous.
“You want the ketamine infusion, don’t you?”
“Yes daddy,” he replied airily. “Of course…”
James could sense the imminent power struggle about to take place—Sebastian’s heart rate had spiked, and he had a certain look in his eyes while he waited for him to let go of his hands. He waited a beat, then feigned releasing his grip—and he immediately felt his patient try to jerk his hands downward.
“Don’t lie,” James rumbled as he forced his hands above his head, where two soft hospital restraints awaited his wrists. Sebastian tried to struggle and wriggle free while he bound him, and the trace reflected his efforts, but they were in vain. “Now, be. Good.”
Sebastian pouted quietly in defeat while James replaced the stethoscope in his ears and continued his examination. “But I want to come, doctor…”
“Shh,” James firmly placed his hand over his mouth and nose while he inched the bell around his heart. When he was done, he repositioned it over his right pectoral. “You’ll come when I want you to and not a moment sooner. Be good, and take a deep breath for me.”
When James moved his palm away, the patient silently did as he was told.
He promptly moved the stethoscope to the other side of his chest when he was done listening to the expired breath. “Again…”
Sebastian submitted for the rest of the auscultation of his lungs, but only because he didn’t want to prolong the inevitable any longer. He knew what awaited him at the other end of this examination, and he wanted that and all that would follow more than a power struggle at the moment.
“Alright,” James acceded without taking the stethoscope out of his ears. He pressed it in position over Sebastian’s mitral valve, and with his other hand, he began to slowly stroke his now-painfully hard dick. “Now that you’ve calmed down a little bit, I’ll allow you a bit of a reward.”
“Hm,” Sebastian let out a soft contented grunt in response.
“But don’t get the wrong idea,” James quickly continued to put him in his place, “your bratty ass is going to pay the price later.”
The patient’s heart let out a premature ventricular contraction when James took that threatening tone with him, but he was otherwise unable to speak as the handjob grew more vigorous. He writhed and squirmed and struggled against the restraints, and he couldn’t help his growing arousal at the fact that James could hear every hard, snappy contraction that his actions were inducing.
“The faster you come, the faster you get what you want,” James said melodically. He was smiling, but there was something a little sinister behind his eyes.
“Yes,” Sebastian managed to say between pleasured sighs. He thrusted his hips upward and looked at him with a hazy expression that became more intense and lucid as he took in the sight of his doctor Dom leaning over him—stethoscope in his ears, hand around his dick, bell positioned just so on the edge of his left nipple—
“Ohhh…” Sebastian closed his eyes as a smothering wave of stimulus overwhelmed him when James repositioned the stethoscope slightly to allow him to massage his nipple with a fingertip. “Fuck yes, daddy…!”
“Shut up,” James instructed coolly without breaking stride, “and show me what your heart sounds like when you come.”
Sebastian did his best to limit how loud he was being and instead focused on the rapid climb of an orgasm he could feel fast approaching. He held his body slightly taut in a pleasurable shiver as James easily brought him to climax, and he moaned as he covered the doctor’s hand in his cum.
“Good boy,” James praised him enthusiastically as he trailed his gaze up and down his pretty naked body as he recovered. “Your heartbeat is so hot when you come.”
“Hmm…” Sebastian let out a happy sigh. “Just for you…”
James turned away to wash his hands in a shallow sink he’d built into one of the corners of the small room. He pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves as he spoke, “alright. It’s time for your infusion now.”
Sebastian nodded, still pleasantly sleepy in post-orgasm. He knew that James was giving him a chance to use the safeword by mentioning it like that, but he had no desire to use it—at least, not right now. He zoned back into reality when he felt him tie a tourniquet on his bicep, and he located a blood vessel to insert the cannula.
“You’re just gonna feel a little poke now—“ James quickly inserted the sharp on the inside of his forearm just as he got the words out of his mouth, and his lips twitched to a frown when Sebastian flinched and cried out softly. “I’m sorry. But it’s over now, and you’ll be feeling good right away…”
Sebastian moaned affirmatively and watched with intense interest as he removed the tourniquet and prepared the ketamine drip. He mounted the bag above the wheeled fluid monitor, made the appropriate connections so he could manage the infusion digitally, then inserted the sharp on the end of the cannula into the stopper of the port on his arm.
“I’m giving you more to start,” James explained as he carefully fiddled with the rate of the drip, “and then I’ll level it out when you’re in a good place.”
“Okay, daddy…” Sebastian replied distantly. It didn’t take long for the dissociative anesthesia to kick in—it hit him hard as soon as the substance was in his bloodstream. “Oh—there it isss…”
James chuffed with an amused look about him. He began to run his gloves hands up and down his torso as the ketamine fully set in, and Sebastian opened his eyes and looked up at him with a dopey, euphoric grin. “Tell me how you feel, baby. Tell me all about how good the doctor has made you feel.”
The patient let out a jubilant stoned giggle. “Whoa… I feel—I feel so floaty and—wait, what was I just thinking about…?”
 James quietly readjusted the rate of the infusion with one hand, then resumed massaging his chest and playing with his nipples. “How good you feel right now.”
“Oh—right…” he sighed and settled into the vertigo he could feel coming on. “Uh… I’m kinda dizzy, but… itsa’… issa good dizzy…”
James inhaled deeply through his nose and moved one of his hands down to Sebastian’s cock, which was already semi-hard again.
“Good,” the doctor said pointedly as he rushed down to Sebastian’s chest with his mouth. A sharp pang of arousal shot through his own dick when Sebastian cried out at him abruptly sucking and biting at his nipple, and he reared back up to shoot his very flustered patient a sweet but evil grin. “Now, let’s see how your heart’s responding…”
Sebastian blushed when the doctor swung his stethoscope over his head again and put it in his ears. He was overcome with vulnerability in his defenseless state and had to look away when he began to inch the diaphragm around his chest, and he found himself staring at the monitor which traced his heart rhythm, respiratory rate and blood pressure. His heart rate had slowed down and leveled out around 85 BPM, and his blood pressure, oxygen level and respiratory rate all read as normal too.
“Mmm…” James feigned a concerned expression. “You’re a bit tachy for how sedated you are. I’m going to give you some oxygen, okay?”
Sebastian’s heart rate spiked as he said the words, and that’s all it took to get him standing tall again. “Mmkayyyy…”
The doctor suddenly became aware of his own erection as Sebastian slurred and settled into the intensely dissociative and analgesic properties of the drug. He found his oxygen tank on a counter nearby and twisted the valve to release the gas therein, then took the nasal cannula attached to it and carefully positioned it in his nostrils and around his ears.
Sebastian took a deep breath through his nose as soon as it was in place. “Ooh… this feels—so nice right now…”
James watched out of the corner of his eye how his cock twitched with his increasing level of arousal.
“You need to relax,” James said sternly as he moved to be in a position to better pleasure him again. “Relax, Sebastian. I don’t want to have to stabilize you so soon.”
Sebastian recognized from his tone of voice that the next part of the scene was about to start, so he tried his best to focus on the sensations that were exciting him the most. The sheer sedating euphoria was enough to make his heart rate climb into the mid-to-high nineties, and he began to breathe deliberately fast and deep to give the illusion that he was destabilizing.
“Huh—oh!” Sebastian flinched with surprise when James abruptly started to jerk him off again. “Ohhh… my god…!”
“Does it feel that good?” James teased as he kept it up.
“Yes…! Oh my god, yes…!” the patient shrieked as he squirmed.
 James continued, but placed his free hand in the middle of his sternum and thrusted into his heart—just once—but it was enough to make Sebastian squirt, and his lips twitched with satisfaction.
“Patient isn’t responding to supplementary oh-two,” James pretended to report for the patient’s pleasure. “He’s destabilizing…”
He was right, of course. It drove Sebastian wild when he pretended to have another rescuer with him, and it didn’t take him long to come again with that thought in his head paired with his level of intoxication.
“Shit, he’s coding…!” James spat intensely as his heart rate steadily rose with the orgasm he was inducing. It peaked at 137 BPM and dropped off again in the moments following, and just as it was about to level out, James reached over and adjusted the settings on the monitor so it showed a flatline. “Come on baby, stay with me… daddy’s got you.”
Sebastian couldn’t help his slight grin and involuntary moans during the chest compressions that followed. His arousal was only potentiated by the euphoric effects of the infusion, and the mere fantasy of having been drugged into cardiac arrest had his heart thudding hard and fast against his ribs. He tried his best to remain still and limp, and fought the urge to kiss him when James pressed his lips against his own to fill his lungs with his hot breath.
“Come on…!” James grunted between tempered compressions. “Breathe!”
The patient shivered helplessly at his demand, but continued to lie still. His member twitched when he heard James pick up the hard rectangular paddles of the defibrillator nearby, and his anticipation almost became too much to bear when he realized the doctor was going to shock him for real. He watched through barely-open eyes as he gelled the capacitors over his naked body, and he couldn’t help a gasp when the cold, slick metal undersides were placed firmly around his heart.
“Shocking at 100 joules,” James exaggerated. He was really only charging a single joule, and would deliver it as a synchronized cardioversion. “Stand clear…!”
“Huu—ugh…” Sebastian grunted loudly as the current gripped his heart and stopped it for a moment. He felt James palpate his carotid pulse briefly afterward, and he looked down at his patient with concern that he wasn’t sure was genuine or part of the scene.
“Your heart rhythm is still irregular,” James explained, in a tone that was both a little detached and sweet at once, “I’m going to need to shock you again.”
“Please, daddy…” Sebastian arched his back as he begged, but the ketamine had him slamming his body back down into the table—there was an inexplicable heaviness in his limbs that made this all the more satisfying for him. “Shock me…”
“Only because you asked so nicely,” James whispered while he adjusted the joules dial to read 2J. He pressed the capacitors into his right pectoral and around the apex of his heart, rubbing their edges over his nipples as he did, and Sebastian begged for the defibrillation with his squirming body language. “Synced at two-hundred—clear!”
Sebastian twitched and gasped with the cardioversion, and the adrenaline of it all went straight to his dick. He writhed—both in pleasure and in pain—as James set the paddles aside and set the monitor to trace his heart again. He then used his stethoscope in a very quick examination, just to confirm his heart had taken the defibrillation well.
“We’ve got sinus,” James said while staring right at him. “We’d better keep him for further observation… among other things.”
“Other things…?” Sebastian slurred meekly over the steady beep of his monitor.
“Yes,” he replied coolly. He wordlessly increased the rate of the infusion and climbed onto the table afterward, with his knees on either side of Sebastian’s torso. “I’m going to resuscitate you unconscious now, Sebastian… and you’re going to let me, okay?”
Sebastian shivered at his voice, which managed to sound both dominant and pleading at once. He didn’t really register the meaning of what he’d said—the extremely sedating and hallucinatory effects of the higher dose overwhelmed him immediately, and he barely managed to reply before his mouth and lips seemed to go numb. “Of… of courssse, daaaddyyy…”
“That’s it…” James positioned his interlocked hands over his heart and locked his elbows. “Just give in… let yourself drift away… I’ll take good care of you while you’re gone…”
“Hhh—hhh—while—I’m—gone…?” Sebastian tripped over his tongue to get the words out between compressions. He wanted to know what that meant, before…
“Mhm,” the large man hummed matter-of-factly. He paused to inch the dosage he was getting upward a few more digits, but resumed before the patient could respond. “I bet you’re just immeasurably sexy when you’re coding for real…”
Sebastian’s eyes widened, and his previously sedate heart rate spiked dramatically in a panic. “Ugh—dah—no—!”
“What was that?” James teased through a sinister smile while he continued to compress his chest. “You have to speak up, Sebastian…”
He knew that he was giving him yet another chance to use the safeword, and Sebastian might have used it—if he hadn’t blinked and become stuck in the drug-induced visuals behind his eyelids. He opened his mouth, in an attempt to utter it anyway—but nothing came out. He had forgotten it.
James had already ceased CPR when Sebastian fell unconscious, and he rapidly undressed while his vital signs continued to tank with the overdose he’d just administered. When he was fully nude, he stopped the drip and removed the cannula from the port on his arm.
“Oh,” James moaned involuntarily as he watched the patient gradually slip into full arrest on his table. He furiously jerked himself off over his limp, sexy body—he was so aroused by this point that it had become painful, and he knew he needed release now.
He took the stethoscope sitting nearby and lazily opened it with one hand and placed it in his ears. Sebastian had stopped breathing, and his heart wasn’t far behind. He listened with delight as the little pump beneath his sternum struggled against the ketamine and the lack of oxygen, and just before it started to fibrillate, James brought himself to orgasm.
“Oh—my god,” he exclaimed shakily when he came all over Sebastian’s abs. “You really are so fucking hot when you’re coding.”
James immediately turned around and grabbed the still-gelled paddles from the top of the Lifepak unit and slammed them against Sebastian’s glistening chest while adjusting the joules dial with his thumb.
“Shocking at two-hundred joules,” he said over the blaring ventricular fibrillation alarm, “clear.”
He pushed into Sebastian’s heart as he delivered the shock. His chest twitched and his arms tried to spring up, but they were held in place by the restraints.
James watched as the line for his heart went flat for a few moments, but it continued to trace the life-threatening arrhythmia afterward. Seemingly unconcerned, James coolly steadied his grip on the paddles and increased the output to 300J.
“Defibbing again at 300,” he announced to his imaginary resuscitation team, just in case the patient could hear him. “Clear!”
The current surged between the paddles and rocked Sebastian’s body, but it was in vain. As his body settled on the table again, the traces for his vital signs went flat, and the steady monotone asystole alarm filled the small space.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” James assured both himself and his patient as he propped his knee up on the side of the table. He launched into textbook-perfect compressions the moment his hands were in place, and he watched how Sebastian’s body moved with his resuscitation efforts with obvious and acute arousal.
“C’mon, breathe for me,” he commanded when the cycle came to an end. He pinched his nose and tipped his chin back in the same motion, then crushed his mouth with his own to deliver three deep rescue breaths. He admired out of the corner of his eye how his chest expanded and fell along with it, then tirelessly continued CPR.
“Fuck,” James cursed under his breath when the second cycle passed without response. He found the ambu bag among his reams of equipment and connected it to the oxygen tank so he could ventilate him properly, and once the mask was in place over his mouth and nose, he squeezed it five times consecutively.
 “C’mon, Sebastian… come back for me,” the doctor pleaded between increasingly vigorous compressions. He wasn’t allowing himself to be worried yet, but as the third cycle threatened to come to an end without response, he thought the patient might benefit from a hit of epinephrine.
He was mentally locating the vial in his head when the flatline was interrupted by an agonal rhythm. James whipped his head over and saw another shockable rhythm after that—it was ventricular fibrillation so fine that the trace barely registered it, but it was there nonetheless.
He urgently leaned back and picked up the defibrillator again, but in his quiet, creeping desperation, he forgot to re-gel the capacitors. James silently paddled Sebastian’s heart again, and he winced when he saw the dark outline of the capacitors burned onto his pretty chest.
“Damn it,” the usually composed doctor spat the words when his patient flatlined again. “Don’t give up on me now, baby. Not when we’re having so much fun…”
James gave him another two deep squeezes of oxygenated air before he resumed beating into his sternum. His stomach ballooned dramatically with each sharp push into his heart, and while the sensation of his chest bending beneath his grip was almost too enjoyable, he knew he had to get him back sooner rather than later and stopped so he could administer a shot of epinephrine.
“Alright, Sebastian…” James said as he tapped the prepared syringe with his gloved fingers. “Show daddy what you’re made of.”
He stroked the inside of his thigh with a deliberately gentle touch while he pushed the epinephrine through the port on his arm. He then held his hand and lifted it to hurry the drug along his bloodstream, and, after a few long seconds—Sebastian gasped.
“There you go,” the doctor gave him an affirming tap after palpating his femoral pulse. It wasn’t normal, as was reflected by the erratic waveforms on the patient monitor, but he was confident that another jolt to his heart would correct it. “Keep breathing—you’re going to be okay.”
After dabbing one of the capacitors with gel and giving them a quick rub, he gently placed the paddles around Sebastian’s helplessly quivering pump and dialled in 150J. The hum of the charging tone broke to signal the shock was ready, and James diligently defibrillated him once more.
Sebastian gasped again as his heart was shocked back into sinus rhythm, but he didn’t appear to be conscious as of yet. James continued to coo at him as he undid the restraints on his arms and replaced the nasal cannula with an oxygen mask, and when he was confident that Sebastian wouldn’t need it, he removed the port and covered the puncture wound accordingly.
When James was done getting his patient and submissive comfortable, he fetched a folding stool from his bedroom beyond and set it down at Sebastian’s side. There was nothing to do now but wait for him to wake up—and shower him with all the aftercare he’d surely need after such a racy scene.
Becky crashes (Credit: Digital O2, "Becky's Asthma Attack")
Calm

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Surgery Q & A
Done something like this a few years ago, now i felt its time for a surgery themed one :D Here we go!
General, local or spinal anaesthesia?
If general anaesthesia -> mask ventilation or intubation?
What type of airway maintenance?
What surgery speciallity?
Dream scenario?
Ever had fantasies about surgery scenario?
Eyes taped or not during surgery?
What made you enjoy surgeries?
Ever been aroused thinking about surgery?
Ever had surgery before?
feel free to come with any suggestions of other questions!
1. General Anesthesia 2.Intubation 3. ET tube 4.Heart 5.Open Heart Surgery on aorta 6.Yes 7. Eyes taped 8. Being vulerable 9.yes 10. Yes
Back to sleep
He woke with a jump. He was in a dark hospital room with a singular light on above him. He squinted to try to block out some of the light.
There wasn’t much else to see in the room. There was a clear IV bag about 5 feet away from the bed. It had a long, clear tube from the bottom of the bag to the IV in his wrist. The bag was empty so there was nothing flowing into him.
His eyes were teary from the bright lights. He tried to move to wipe his eyes, but quickly realized he couldn’t. There were restraints around both wrists and ankles, as well as a really wide one around his stomach. As he tried to move, the door opened with a jolt.
“Mike,” a nurse said, startled. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet.”
“Well, uh- I am,” he replied matter-of-factly. He got a good look at the nurse as she walked closer. She wore green scrubs, and a blue mask and hairnet matched beautifully with her blue eyes.
“Well, I’ll have to change that,” she said with crossed arms. “I’ll be right back.” She turned and left, and the door shut behind her with a click.
He didn’t understand why being awake was a problem. He also didn’t remember how he got here. And why was everything moved back from the bed? The questions were starting to pile up.
The door opened and she came back in carrying a tray with bottles of medicine, several needles, and a new, full IV bag. She placed it on the counter next to the door and grabbed two purple gloves from a box on the wall. She started to put the left one on with her back turned, and he decided to ask a question.
“Why is everything moved away from the bed?” he asked as the tight latex snapped onto her left wrist.
“You don’t remember?” she asked while turning to face him and taking a couple of steps closer. She started wiggling her right hand into the purple glove as she watched him intently.
“No,” he said while shaking his head. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not necessarily,” she said coyly as she snapped the right wrist of her glove and crossed her hands. “You’re here for some tests -
“What kind of tests?” he asked, slightly alarmed.
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied as she walked over to the IV bag. “The reason everything is moved away from the bed is because you fought us pretty hard on the first test. You hit nurse Becca with the IV pole. We felt it safest for us to restrain you and keep you sedated whenever possible.”
She removed the empty IV bag and walked over to the counter. She put the empty bag down, grabbed the new one, and walked back to the pole to hang it up.
“This is a lot to take in,” he said, clearly confused. “Why didn’t I want the test? Why did I hit a nurse? Is she okay?”
“Irrelevant,” she stated. “Well, yes, she is okay. We will help you get through these tests in a way that’s safe for everyone involved.”
“I don’t think I want this,” he said glumly.
“You don’t really have a choice, man,” she said nonchalantly. “Don’t think about it or worry too much, you’ll be back to sleep in a few minutes anyway.”
She walked back over to her tray and started filling needles from the bottles of medicine. First a medium-sized clear one. Then a medium white one. Then a very large white one. After each was done, she held it up to the light and flicked it, insuring a perfect dose.
She approached with the tray holding all of the full needles. It was intimidating up close, especially since he didn’t know what they were for. She placed it on a stool next to the IV bag.
“Okay, Mike,” she said while picking up the medium clear needle. “This is a little calming cocktail for you.” She slotted it into a port in the IV tubing and pushed it rather quickly.
“What’s your name?” he asked. She was startled by the question.
“Hannah,” she said as she took the now-empty needle out of the port and put it back on the tray. “Nurse Hannah, that is.”
“Nurse Hannah,” he said with emphasis on the nurse part. “If you’re going to put me to sleep, don’t you have to put an oxygen mask on my face? You’ll have to come closer to do that.”
“Yes I do,” she said. “And yes I will. I’ll just wait until the medicine kicks in. And speaking of medicine…” she turned and picked up the large white syringe. She inserted it into the IV bag and pushed the plunger, the thick white liquid mixing with the clear saline.
“What’s that?” he asked, intimidated by the size of the syringe and thickness of the liquid.
“Propofol,” she responded. “It’s the medicine that makes you sleepy.”
“Why not just put that in my IV?” he asked? “I’ve had three surgeries, that’s how they’ve always done it.”
“The goal is to keep you asleep for longer,” she explained. “Propofol wears off quickly. If I gave you all of that at once, you would wake up in 15 minutes. Since this IV bag will last hours, you’ll stay asleep for hours.”
“Oh,” he said. He briefly felt fear, but the calming cocktail was starting to kick in and pushed it away.
“Yeah, good question though,” she said while putting the empty big syringe back and picking up the medium white one. “But if it takes too long to kick in I’ll give you a full dose to start you off.”
“Fun,” he said with a smirk and a little giggle.
“You’re starting to feel good, aren’t you?” she observed. “The calming cocktail is working nicely, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said smirking again.
“Well good, that’s my cue to start the drip,” she said as she turned a knob on the pole. Immediately, the cloudy white liquid started dripping into a cup, gathering at the bottom, and gradually entering the IV tube. He felt coolness enter his IV.
It stung a little, but not as much as when he had surgeries and they gave him the full dose at once. He hoped she wouldn’t do that. He started to feel really giggly, but also tired as the anesthesia entered him.
“How we doin’, buddy,” she asked after a couple of minutes. She still kept her distance.
“Teehee, good,” he said laughing again.
“Nice and relaxed?” she followed up. No pain from the IV?
“Yes relaxed,” he said. “Little sting in IV.”
“That’s normal, nothing to worry about,” she said to him. She then looked over his head. “Becca you can come put the oxygen on him now.”
“Wha?” he said groggily as nurse Becca appeared over him.
“Hello Mike, remember me?” Becca asked theatrically.
“No,” he said plainly.
“Well, maybe you’ll remember this,” she replied as she lowered the oxygen mask onto his face and clamped it on with both gloved hands grasping his chin and neck. He could hear the gas hissing as it traveled up the corrugated tubes.
“Breathe deeply,” she urged as Hannah walked up to the bed now, still holding the medium white syringe.
“Why do all of this?” he asked, heavily muffled by the mask.
“It’ll be over soon,” Hannah said as she patted him on the shoulder. She then screwed the syringe into the port in his hand. She looked at Becca and said, “Tell me when.”
“Just a minute,” Becca replied. Hannah held Mike’s hand as Becca added a little sevoflurane to his mask. “It’s going to smell a little sweet now, Mike.”
He noticed it immediately. He was starting to feel more tired, but wasn’t asleep yet.
“Let’s send him off to dreamland, Hannah,” Becca said. Hannah started pushing immediately.
“Ahhhh,” Mike whined as he felt the burn traveling up his arm. “Is it done?”
“Yes,” Hannah replied. “And so are you by the looks of it.”
“Haha yeah,” Becca agreed as his eyes rolled back and his jaw slacked. She tightened her grip as she tilted his head back.
“Goodnight, Mike,” Hannah said definitively as Mike drifted away.
Jenny’s Arrest- Part 3 In the ER
The conclusion…. with a nice surprise at the end!
Aside from the pounding on my chest by the medic, my heart is completely still.
“What do we got?” Asks a new voice.
From above me a flurry of information is spoken quickly. “25 year old woman found unresponsive in the bathroom by girlfriend and roommate. History of congestive heart failure including an arrest in the past. She was down for at least 15 minutes and revived and then coded again 5 minutes ago. 1 dose of epi given this arrest. Currently asystolic”.
“Okay, let’s get her inside!”
While all this is going on someone climbs on top of me, straddling my waist. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1” is counted out and I feel a set of hands pull away from me and another land back on my chest, barely missing a beat in the rhythm of compressions. The compressor is someone new. I can sense the difference in depths of the hands going into my chest. They have a fresh strength compared to the others. Someone continues pumping the bag sending air into my lungs. The gurney is pulled out from the ambulance and is pushed from where my head lies into the ER.
As soon as we enter the ER I can sense that you are both are there with me. I feel a sense of comfort knowing that you came and I am no longer alone.
In the resus bay there is overwhelming commotion around me even though there is nothing going on inside me. Straddled compressions continue by the nurse who has taken over and she hands off the task to someone else. Big, rough hands that cover my entire chest and part of my breasts to the nipple take over and shove my sternum down so deeply my entire body rocks with them.
“Let’s get her on our monitor and get a dose of epi in her”.
You are crying from the corner of the room. “Jenny… please sweetie come back”
I have no power in this situation. I cannot will my heart to beat or my lungs to breathe. I cannot save myself right now. I am in the hands of others who may or may not decide that I am too far gone.
“Please let me live…” I whisper from the other side of the void that I am currently in.
Resus efforts continue for another few minutes, though it feels like hours, before my heart converts again. Paddles are placed on my chest while compressions continue until the very last second before they call “Defib at 360! CLEAR!”
The shock rips across my chest sending my arms outward in a wave like fashion. My entire chest jumps off the table forming an arch between my pelvis and head. As I land my arms jump outwards.
“Again at 360!”
After the second shock. I slam back down and feel myself slipping from my body towards the ceiling.
“Shock her again!” You scream from the other side of the room. But my heart goes back to asystole and the sound rings out through the room. Despite the sound of the hopeless monotone nothing stops: compressions continue, meds are given, air is pumped, fingers press into my neck and groin to check for pulses. Three more minutes pass. I have been down another 17 minutes since the ambulance. Longer than the first time at home.
Suddenly I am watching the whole scene from above. Looking down at the top of the head of the person doing compressions on me, I see the bouncing motion of their upwards and downwards movements, my head following along with the beat as someone holds the bag and squeezes every five seconds or so. I float higher and higher towards the ceiling until i feel myself jerk to a stop. There is only so far I can go when I am still kept alive by the hands of others I suppose.
I feel freer up here. In my body I felt stuck and cold; but here I feel warmth, comfort. Although I also feel I should not be seeing this. Here I feel whole. I feel loved.
But I want to come back. Please let me come back…. I try to move downward as if swimming in deep water, but I cannot make any movement.
I want to look away but my eyes are transfixed on my body- a blanket pulled across my pelvis but revealing my leg where they have placed another IV line. My feet rocking with each deep compression. My closed eyes, my blue lips holding a tube that is connected to a blue bulb being squeezed. Electrodes outline the hands of the person compressing my chest
I recognize only the two of you in the corner, sobbing, crying, begging the doctors to keep going. I want to come to you and comfort you, to tell you to keep fighting for me because I cannot.
More time passes, the dance of the code continues on for another eight minutes with no changes. Numerous rounds of medication are given through the IVs. There is one more round of shocks at 360 but my heart refuses to convert to a living rhythm.
Then….
“How long do we have on the clock?” Asks the doctor to the timekeeper.
“Twenty three minutes and forty five seconds” she says.
“I believe we have done everything we can do. If there is no change on the next pulse check I suggest we call it. Does everyone agree?”
There is a silent decision made amongst the people in the room. Heads nod as eyes avert to the ground away from others. Two minutes slowly creeps by as yet another nurse takes over compressions. Her hands are soft and small, but plunge deeper into my chest as if she is trying to grab my heart through the skin and ribs.
Finally, compression pause and the nurse backs off. I see my body beneath me: broken, bruised, lifeless. I know I am gone and soon will leave this liminal space.
The monotone beep rings out in the room.
“Okay, I’m calling it. Time of death 7:52 am”
“No! No! No! No!” you scream as you collapse to the floor. He tries to catch you but you both end up huddled together in the corner crying. The doctor comes over and tells you to say your goodbyes. The nurses pull the blanket up over my chest and leaves my arms on top at my sides.
I am still here watching the scene unfold below me. It pains me deeply to see the anguish in your faces. The two of you manage to stand up and make your way over, one on each side of the bed and hold my hands. You take my hand to your face as if to have me hold it like I do in the wee hours of the night when you need comforting.
“I love you, baby” you cry and flop your body practically across me, your ear on my chest in the spot where your hands worked so hard to keep my heart going. My heart which is currently still.
It is in that moment, as your body makes connection with mine that I drop back into my body. Under your ear there is a tiny thump. And then another. I take in a gasp of air and suddenly my eyes are staring at the ceiling where I was looking down from.
Beep, beep, beep on the monitor.
Hope you enjoyed my trick question vote. Best of both worlds!
15
“I’ll be right back, I’m just going to pop into the bathroom before we go”. Chloe looked up and smiled at Kendra. She and Kendra were out celebrating their anniversary with dinner at their favourite restaurant. They had enjoyed a steak dinner and only a few bites remained, though both women were full and unable to finish the rest of the food. She watched as Kendra slipped away towards the bathroom sign. Chloe sighed contentedly and eyed the last few bites of steak. It was so tasty Chloe thought to herself, what’s one more bite, it’s a special occasion! Chloe reached for her fork and speared a bite of steak, raising it to her mouth and savouring the delicious umami flavour. Chloe closed her eyes and sighed, leaning back in her chair, folding the napkin in her lap. Chloe frowned, only now noticing how big the bite was, her jaw working hard to chew the food in her mouth.
There was a sudden and loud laugh from a nearby table, startling Chloe. She gasped, startled.
Chloe’s eyes eyes flew open in surprise as the bite of steak slipped to the back of her throat. She coughed, her gag reflex activating involuntarily. Stay calm she urged herself, swallowing and trying to coax the steak down. It moved sluggishly, still partially blocking her airway. Chloe drew in a ragged breath, chest expanding, and raised a napkin to her mouth. She tried to force a cough and her eyes flew open when no sound came out; no breath, no air, nothing. Chloe scanned the room, trying to calm the panic rising inside of her. Her body heaved as it tried to expel the blockage, heat and pressure building in her face.
Where’s Kendra? Chloe thought to herself. She staggered to her feet, her hands clumsily gripping the edge of the table to keep her steady. She tried coughing again, banging her fist against her chest. A quiet gag escaped and she felt the steak move, just enough to cough loudly and painfully. She clutched her throat, drawing in a pitiful breath around the blockage in her throat, grateful for even the small taste of air she finally had. It’s going to be okay, focus she urged herself.
“Hey, are you okay?” A voice called to her from behind. Chloe glanced over her shoulder, unsteady on her feet. A woman with a kind face approached her, her brow drawn with concern. Chloe pointed to her throat frantically, trying to speak “chok-choking…can’t brea-“ her voice cut off by a violent gag. Again the steak shifted in her throat, teasing her. She flapped her hands, panic getting the best of her. Another tiny whisp of air entered her lungs with a desperate gasp. Her eyes watered and she clutched her chest.
Hands were on her shoulders, the woman leaning in and examining her face. “Try and cough” she urged, voice calm. Chloe nodded. A few weak coughs forced their way from her lungs and around the steak still lodged in her throat. Chloe gasped and coughed once more, but it was cut short and followed by a gag. “That’s it! Cough!”. Chloe tried, really she did, but was unable to produce anything more than a pitiful wheeze. The woman reached behind Chloe to pat her back, encouraging Chloe to cough. Once again the steak shifted. Chloe tried to swallow, hands grasping her throat, feeling her pulse hammering beneath her fingertips at the side of her neck. However, the blockage had settled firmly in her throat and no longer allowed any air to pass.
Shitshitshit ran on loop in Chloe’s head. Unable to calm the panic that had returned, Chloe turned her glassy eyes to the woman trying to help her breathe again. She shook her head and gestured wildly to her throat, trying to convey she could no longer pass any air. “Cough! Keep coughing!” the woman repeated, pounding between her shoulder blades with more force. Chloe rocked each time a strike hit her back, but she shook her head and mouthed without sound “I can’t cough”. Chloe saw comprehension dawn across her face as she took in the severity of the situation.
The woman side stepped Chloe as she spun her around. “Here” she said in Chloe’s ear, voice low and urgent. Her hands gripped Chloe’s waist, pulling her close until Chloe’s back was pressed to her front. Quickly, the woman’s hands settled against her stomach, right above her navel. “I’ve got you, hang on, I’m going to do the Heimlich” she said, pausing briefly to lock her fists together before yanking them into Chloe’s abdomen. Chloe lurched, taken aback by the force of it. Her mouth flew open in shock as pain rippled through her body, unable to collect herself before another painful thrust racked through her body. Chloe felt dizzy and scared, scanning the room for Kendra. Would she return to see this? A stranger trying desperately to clear her airway and get her breathing again? Would the stranger be able to do it? What if-no…no, don’t go there Chloe reprimanded herself, wincing as the woman thrust again into her stomach.
“Can you breathe?” the woman’s voice called out, sounding somewhat distant in Chloe’s ears as her balance began to sway. Chloe shook her head weakly. The woman’s arms disappeared from around her waist and Chloe stumbled forward, catching herself against the table, knocking over the glass of red wine at her spot. She glared at the steak still left on her plate, cursing herself for taking one more bite. A hand came down painfully between her shoulder blades again while another gripped her shoulder, helping her remain upright. Again and again the woman beat her back, her palm striking fiercely, sure to leave a red mark on her skin. Chloe’s vision swam, her brown locks falling forward into her face.
The stranger’s voice said something but Chloe was unable to decipher it or respond verbally so she shook her head weakly. Chloe squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the strangers arms return to position around her waist and begin another round of painful Heimlich maneuvers. Chloe’s hands grasped weakly at the arms encircling her waist, so persistent in their efforts to help her. Chloe forced her eyes open and tried to remain present, focusing on the feeling of her back jostling against the woman’s chest. Dimly she noted the woman’s chest heaving against her back, rapid breaths panting against her neck and a quiet grunt coming from the stranger each time she performed an abdominal thrust; Chloe felt an illogical pang of jealousy about the air moving so freely through her rescuer’s lungs and clear airway.
The steak somewhat dislodged from Chloe’s airway following a particularly painful thrust, her head lolling with it. Her hands flew to her chest, her fingers scrabbling at her throat. She was able to inhale weakly around the blockage and grunted as once more the stranger determinedly yanked in and up under her diaphragm. The blockage slid loose, still in her throat. Chloe folded over and coughed, working the stubborn mass of food out. The woman’s arms remained in place but the thrusts paused.
“Is it out? Can you breathe?”
Chloe wheezed and coughed again in response, curling inward over the strangers arms as Chloe thumped her chest, feeling the blockage inch forward towards her mouth. One more thrust and Chloe felt the air rush from her tired lungs and up her irritated throat, finally forcing the steak up and out of her airway completely. Chloe gagged and used her tongue to push it out, coughing as the sodden mass fell from her mouth and landed on the table in front of her.
Chloe wheezed and groaned, collapsing over the table, bracing herself up with her forearms. She was dizzy and weak, struggling to remain as upright as she could slumped over the table. “Hey, easy” the stranger murmured in Chloe’s ear, bending down so their faces were level, assessing Chloe. She took in Chloe’s glassy eyes, flushed face and shaking hands. “Here, let’s sit you down” she said gently as she propped Chloe against her and repositioned her chair before easing her back into it. Chloe raised a trembling hand to her eyes and closed them, focusing on breathing. The air was painful as it rushed into her irritated throat and greedy lungs.
“You’re okay, you’re okay. Breathe…calm your body and breathe. Like this…” the stranger said, demonstrating an exaggerated deep breath in and out. Chloe nodded weakly and did her best to follow suit, meeting her kind eyes, trying to ignore the wave of embarrassment she could feel building inside of her. “You’ve got it, good, keep breathing” she murmured. “May I?” She asked, raising two fingers to hover near Chloe’s neck, indicating she wanted to check her pulse. Chloe deflated slightly and nodded her head in resignation, once again overcome with embarrassment and shame. She closed her eyes and leaned back as the woman’s fingers pressed into the side of her neck and stayed there, counting the fluttering heartbeat felt in her carotid pulse.
“Chloe?!” Kendra’s voice called out, confused. Chloe opened her eyes and saw Kendra rushing to their table, taking in the scene before her: Chloe, dishevelled and slumped back in a chair with a stranger checking her pulse, the dining table a mess of spilled wine and the remains of their anniversary dinner, and a half chewed piece of steak staining the table cloth. “What happens?” Kendra cried out, grabbing her bicep and squeezing, her voice laced with concern. Chloe looked at her, exhausted and unable to speak as her chest heaved.
The stranger withdrew her fingers from Chloe’s neck and smiled at Kendra. “She was choking and couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t able to cough it out so I gave her some back slaps and the Heimlich Maneuver. She’s shaken up and her heart rate is quite high but it should return to normal as she continues to recover”. She turned to face Chloe. “Are you okay? Can you speak?”. Chloe nodded and replied “I’m okay” with a weak, trembling voice, her throat raw and painful. Chloe felt pain in her abdomen but was grateful that the pain she felt was the worse of her current condition.
Kendra drew the stranger into a hug and Chloe saw tears escape her eyes. “Thank you for stepping in and saving Chloe. I was only gone for a few minutes and this happened! Thank god you were here…”. Chloe watched as Kendra and the stranger embraced and the stranger murmured soothing words to Kendra before they both turned back to Chloe. Kendra rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Chloe and squeezed her close. Chloe’s ribs protested and a small gasp escaped her, but Chloe closed her eyes once more and sighed, grateful to be breathing once more.

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Intubated the thumper pumps her chest as defib pads shock her heart
So wish that was me.
Episode 1 - Deep End
TW: drowning, CPR, BVM/oxygen use, AED pads, medical deterioration.
A poolside rescue spirals into medbay treatment as Red Guard handle their first serious incident — and one of their own starts to feel the aftermath.
The adult lane session began at five.
On the rota, the six of them were Red Guard. The name had started as a joke on the staff chat and stayed because it suited the place: red suits, red shorts, red whistles, red waist packs, and a medbay that had seen more than sunburn and scraped knees.
The shallow half had been cleared. The floats were stacked in the side shed. The children's ropes had been reeled in, leaving the water flatter and louder, divided into four clean lanes with the black guide lines showing through the blue. Heat still came off the concrete. Wet patches remained where families had stood with towels around their shoulders, but most of the deck had dried to pale grey.
Freya North stood by the office door in a red one-piece, barefoot, whistle against her chest, radio on her waist pack. She was twenty-four and already looked like someone older staff would follow. Tall, blonde, hair tied up hard, mouth set unless she had a reason to smile. She did not need to raise her voice often. The others usually heard the first version.
Mara Keene came out of the side building with a clipboard and a pouch of spare ECG electrodes. She wore the white guard vest over red shorts. Her dark hair was pulled back. No jewellery except the whistle. She had the medbay keys on her wrist and a way of looking at equipment before she looked at people.
"Cylinder two is down to a quarter," Mara said.
Freya did not move her eyes from the water. "Use one. Log two. Find out who left it like that."
Mara looked toward the long-haired guard on second chair. "Rowan."
"Probably."
Rowan Bell stood with one foot on the chair step, white long-sleeve top damp at the cuffs, red shorts hanging low on his hips, sunglasses hiding most of his face. He was twenty-three, tall, lean, and a good enough swimmer that he treated the rest of the job like decoration. He disliked checks. He disliked being corrected. He disliked Mara most of all, because she saw the difference between relaxed and careless.
Tessa Vale worked the gate at the far side, red swimsuit, dark sunglasses, blonde hair tied high, blue nails bright against the clipboard. She was good with families and regulars. She remembered children's names. She could make a complaint dissolve before it reached Freya. She also assumed that if something serious were happening, someone sharper would already have called it.
Callum Rook sat in the raised chair at the deep end. He wore the white vest, red shorts, sunglasses, curls still wet from a swim test he had chosen to repeat in front of the teenage lane club. He liked the chair because everyone could see him on it. He liked rescues when they were clean, visible, and ended with applause or gratitude.
Izzie Marr sat behind the desk window with a cap pulled low and her glasses halfway down her nose. She controlled the radio log, the kit records, the incident forms and most of the quiet information that moved through the team. She knew who had swapped shifts, who had been late, who had argued behind the plant room. She wrote everything down when it mattered and plenty when it did not.
The side building held the medbay. The public sign said FIRST AID. Inside, two treatment couches faced the wall units. Oxygen points, suction, a monitor, two AEDs, BVMs in three sizes, oral and nasal airways, gloves, shears, blankets, dressings, cold packs, foil sheets, a locked drugs cupboard Mara was not supposed to have the key for and did anyway. The place looked too prepared until someone needed it. Then it looked small.
The Red Guard medbay was too well stocked for the sign on the door. There were shelves of masks in sealed plastic, cylinders strapped to the wall, spare defib pads in dated packets, suction catheters coiled in drawers, and folded foil blankets stacked beside towels. Mara kept the airway drawer arranged by size. Freya checked the oxygen seals with the same expression she used on late staff. Izzie knew which forms matched which incident before anyone had finished panicking.
The room had a narrow treatment couch and a second fold-down couch for overflow. The first couch had a wipe-clean pillow, a roll of paper sheets and a stain at one corner that no amount of disinfectant had removed from the vinyl. The air smelled of chlorine, alcohol wipes and warm plastic.
At five ten, the adult swimmers were in the water. Lane one had slow breaststroke. Lane two had two women who came every Thursday and spent most of the session talking at the wall. Lane three held steady front crawl. Lane four was the fast lane.
Elise Rainer took lane four at five twelve.
She signed in as twenty-two. Brown hair under a white cap, navy training suit, long narrow shoulders, strong legs, neat turn at the wall. She was not striking from the deck at first. She became more noticeable when she paused: pretty in a practical way, pale mouth, straight nose, eyes that stayed focused longer than politeness required. She had a small tattoo high on one hip that showed when she pushed off hard and the suit shifted. She swam with the concentration of someone who wanted the lane to herself.
Mara watched her through the first few lengths. Fast swimmers made Mara attentive. They tired themselves, held their breath too long, tried drills they had watched online and could not execute safely. Elise did clean underwaters after each turn. Too long for most recreational swimmers, but controlled.
"She all right?" Tessa asked when she came past with lane bands.
"So far," Mara said.
"You say that like she's plotting."
"People don't need to plot to drown."
Tessa made a face and left her to it.
At five twenty-four, Freya rotated positions. Callum climbed down from the high chair because Rowan was due on the deep end. The changeover took longer than it needed to. Callum paused at the fence when two women asked whether the evening lane club was cancelled. Rowan took the chair after rubbing the hot seat with his towel and making a show of being inconvenienced by the sun.
Mara watched the handover from the medbay door.
"You're up," Callum said.
"I know."
"Then look alive."
Rowan lifted one finger without looking at him.
Lane four had Elise near the far wall. She ducked under cleanly, pushed off, and vanished into the blue strip beneath the surface.
Tessa came up beside Rowan's chair with a bottle of water. "You look cooked."
"I'm fine."
"You say that about everything."
"Because most things are."
He took the bottle, drank, and lowered it. His eyes moved across lane four. The lane looked empty for a second. Then two swimmers in lane three passed in the foreground, sending thin waves across the surface. The bottom line blurred.
Tessa followed his gaze. "Fast-lane girl resting?"
"Doing underwaters."
"For that long?"
"She's been doing them all session."
Tessa looked again. Her body leaned toward the water but her feet stayed where they were. "Maybe call it."
Rowan lifted his sunglasses. "Or maybe don't make a rescue out of someone touching the wall."
Tessa accepted that because he sounded sure and because accepting it let her return to the easier work. She stepped back from the chair.
Mara saw both of them looking at lane four without moving.
That was the part she remembered afterward: two guards with a possible submersion in front of them, both waiting for the other one to make it real.
"Lane four," Mara said.
Freya turned at once.
Mara was already walking fast.
Callum reached the edge first. He had been close enough to move before the others. He looked down. His face changed before the whistle reached his mouth.
Elise was at the bottom near the black line, angled slightly on her side, one arm away from her body, white cap bright under the surface. No kick. No bubbles. No movement that belonged to a swimmer.
Freya's whistle sounded once.
"Clear the pool. Everybody out. Rowan, in. Callum, in. Mara, medbay. Tessa, gate. Izzie, ambulance standby."
Callum went in clean, a shallow dive that cut straight toward her. Rowan dropped from the chair and entered after him. The two men went under, red shorts sharp through the water. Callum reached Elise first, got an arm across her chest, and started up. Rowan took her legs when they surfaced. Her head rolled back. The cap loosened at one edge.
"Deck," Freya said.
Mara was already kneeling with towels at the edge. Freya and Callum lifted from above while Rowan shoved from below. Elise came out heavy. Water ran off her suit and pooled around their knees. Her face was pale beneath the cap. The goggles had shifted down onto one cheek.
On the deck, she looked smaller and far more exposed than she had in lane four.
Mara stripped off the goggles. Elise's eyes were partly open. They did not fix on anything.
"Elise? Can you hear me?"
No answer.
Freya put two fingers beneath the angle of the jaw and tilted the head. Mara leaned close, cheek near Elise's mouth, eyes on the chest.
"Agonal. Weak pulse."
"Medbay," Freya said.
Rowan wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. "Should we start here?"
Freya looked at him for half a second. "She has a pulse. We move now."
Callum put his arms under Elise's shoulders. Rowan took her legs. Mara kept the head supported long enough for Freya to take over. Elise's wet hair spilled from the cap as Mara peeled it away. The navy suit clung to her chest and hips. The edges had marked the skin. Nothing about her looked like the strong swimmer from ten minutes before except the muscles in her legs, now slack under Rowan's grip.
They carried her into the side building.
The pool emptied behind them. Tessa stood at the gate and repeated, "Everyone out, please. Step back. Give us space," in a voice that stayed calm while her hands shook.
Izzie called ambulance control with the address, the pool entrance, the side access gate, and the words adult swimmer recovered from the bottom of the pool, agonal breathing, pulse present.
Inside the medbay, Callum and Rowan laid Elise on the first couch. The paper sheet soaked through at once. Water dripped onto the floor. Mara cut away the cap rather than untangle it from wet hair. Freya took the head.
"Suction. Oxygen. Bag ready."
Mara turned on wall suction. The catheter went into Elise's mouth. Water and thin vomit came through the tubing. Elise gagged once without waking. Mara cleared the mouth, turned the head, suctioned again, then looked at the chest.
"She's not moving enough air."
"Mask first," Freya said.
Mara took a non-rebreather from the drawer. The green tubing connected to the wall oxygen. She set the flow high enough to fill the reservoir, checked the bag with her gloved hand, then fitted the clear mask over Elise's nose and mouth.
The elastic caught in wet hair. Mara pulled it free, slid it behind the head, and tightened it. The mask covered most of Elise's lower face. Her lips disappeared behind clear plastic. Water stuck to the inside of the rim where it touched her cheeks. The reservoir bag stayed full because Elise barely drew from it.
Mara used two fingers to press the mask down at the bridge of Elise's nose and thumbed the damp hair away from the elastic. The green strap marked a wet line behind her head. The reservoir bag filled against the side of the couch. Elise's lips were hidden now. Only her eyes, pale and unfixed, remained uncovered.
The mask made a private shape out of her face. It turned her breathing into something the room could watch: cloud, clear, cloud, clear, then a pause that made Mara reach for the bag.
She took one weak breath. The mask clouded near the mouth, then cleared.
"Not enough," Freya said.
Mara had already reached for the BVM.
With the bag, the work came closer to the skin.
The non-rebreather had sat on Elise while she tried to breathe. The BVM required hands. Mara placed the larger clear mask over Elise's face and pressed the rim into wet skin. Thumb and forefinger formed the C. The other fingers lifted the jaw. Freya watched the neck and pulse. Izzie stood at the foot with the log sheet, pen ready, lips parted behind her concentration.
The BVM left no polite distance. One guard had to own the face and another had to own the air. The mask rim pressed deeper than the non-rebreather had. Elise's wet cheek bulged slightly against the seal. Freya watched for leak, chest rise, stomach rise, anything that would tell her whether the breath had gone where it needed to go.
Mara squeezed the bag.
Elise's chest rose.
The movement stopped everyone for a fraction of a second. The same body that had been limp from the water now lifted because Mara put air into it. The wet swimsuit stretched with the rise. Water slid from the hollow of Elise's throat to the towel beneath her neck.
"Again," Freya said.
Mara gave the second breath. Better rise. No leak at the cheek.
"Ventilations commenced," Izzie said, and wrote the time.
Callum stood too close. He stared at Elise's mouth under the mask, at the way her chest rose when Mara squeezed, at the exposed skin above the cut edge of the suit. His mouth went dry. He disliked himself for noticing anything except the airway.
"Pads," Freya said.
Mara held the mask for one more breath, then passed it to Freya. Freya took the seal without comment. Mara picked up the trauma shears.
"Do you need to—" Rowan began.
"Yes," Mara said.
She cut the navy swimsuit down the centre. The sound of wet fabric under shears was dull and quick. She opened the suit just enough for pads and leads. Elise's chest was pale, marked by the suit seams, goose-bumped from cold water and air conditioning. Mara covered what she could with a towel, then dried the pad sites with another towel using hard, practical strokes.
Mara did not cut more than she needed, but the need was enough. Damp fabric peeled back from chilled skin. The swimsuit that had looked neat and athletic in lane four became something to be moved aside for pads, leads and hands. The staff kept their eyes busy because that was the only decent way to look.
Callum looked away, then looked back. Rowan looked at the floor. Tessa appeared in the doorway and stopped with both hands against the frame.
"Out if you can't keep quiet," Freya said.
Tessa stayed.
The first pad went below the right collarbone. The second went low on the left side. Mara pressed around the edges, firm fingers pushing gel to skin. The pads looked large against Elise's damp chest. Wires ran to the AED on the trolley.
Izzie powered it on.
The speaker played the recorded instructions.
"Apply pads to patient's bare chest. Plug in connector."
"Done," Mara said.
Freya ventilated. One breath every few seconds. Squeeze. Chest rise. Release. Chest fall. Water and air made a rough sound in Elise's throat when Freya missed the jaw angle by a few millimetres. She corrected it without needing Mara to say anything.
Squeeze. Hsssh. Rise. Release. The bag filled again in Mara's hand. Freya's fingers stayed locked along Elise's jaw. Every breath left a faint blur on the inside of the mask before the oxygen flow cleared it.
Elise coughed.
It was sudden and wet. Her whole body tightened. Pink foam appeared at the edge of the mask. Freya lifted the mask, turned the head. Mara suctioned fast. More fluid came up. Elise's eyes opened wider, rolled slightly, then lost even the small hint of focus they had.
"Pulse?" Freya asked.
Mara checked the carotid.
Her face gave the answer before her mouth did.
"No pulse."
"CPR."
Callum moved because he had been waiting to be useful and because he could do this part in front of people. His hands went to the centre of Elise's chest: heel of one hand on the lower sternum, the other on top, fingers locked, elbows straight.
His first compression was too gentle.
"Deeper," Mara said.
He pushed harder.
Elise's chest gave beneath him. The wet skin shifted under the heel of his hand. The towel slipped aside. Mara pulled it clear because the towel had become an obstruction. Callum felt cartilage give, not a crack exactly, but enough to travel into his wrists. His stomach tightened. He kept going.
"One, two, three, four, five."
His voice came out lower than usual. Less charming. Less controlled.
Freya took the head. After thirty compressions, she sealed the BVM and gave two breaths. Elise's chest rose twice, bare under the open suit and pads. Callum resumed. No one spoke about the exposure. No one had room for it.
The compressions pushed water from her hair into the paper sheet. Her shoulders moved with each downward force. The pads held. The leads trembled against her skin. Freya waited at the head with the BVM already sealed, ready to put two more breaths into her as soon as Callum counted thirty.
Tessa watched from the doorway. She had seen training mannequins, not this. She had practised hand positions on a plastic torso in a council leisure centre classroom, laughing when someone set the metronome too fast. She had not seen the sternum of a young woman move under Callum's hands. She had not seen a mask held hard enough to mark the face. She had not seen a body made to breathe while it gave nothing back.
"Analysing rhythm," the AED recording played. "Do not touch patient."
Hands lifted. Freya held her palms in view. Mara checked the tubing. Izzie wrote. Tessa stopped breathing for the length of the analysis and realised only when her chest hurt.
"Shock advised. Charging."
Callum stepped back.
Freya looked at each person. "Clear."
The shock went through the pads. Elise's torso jerked once. Her shoulders lifted from the wet sheet and fell back. Her head turned inside Freya's hand. Water in her hair splashed the pillow.
"Begin CPR," the recording said.
Callum returned to the chest.
The second cycle was better. He found depth and rhythm. The performance went out of him. Sweat ran into his eyes. Water from Elise's body soaked the knees of his shorts. His hands stayed in the centre of her chest, compressing hard enough that the couch shifted slightly under the force.
Mara ventilated after Freya took over the pulse checks. She liked the head position better when she controlled it herself. The mask fitted Elise well. Too well, almost. With the jaw lifted, the clear dome sealed perfectly. Each squeeze raised the chest. Each release let the breath out through the valve and around the edges with a faint damp sound.
"Ambulance?" Freya asked.
"Four minutes," Izzie said.
Elise's rhythm changed during the second analysis.
"No shock advised," the recording played.
"Pulse check," Freya said.
Mara's fingers went to the carotid. She held still. Her mouth tightened.
"Weak pulse."
"Confirm."
Mara stayed another three seconds. "Pulse present. Weak."
No one celebrated. Freya kept the BVM on Elise's face and gave another breath because a pulse did not make the breathing adequate. Elise's own effort came in thin, rapid pulls that did not move enough air. Mara watched the chest and the stomach. Too much went into the stomach when Freya lost the angle. She corrected the jaw and slowed the squeeze.
Elise's eyes opened halfway.
Tessa stepped forward without permission. "Elise? You're at the pool. You're in the first-aid room. We got you out."
Elise's gaze moved toward the sound, or seemed to. The mask covered her nose and mouth. Her lips moved under the plastic with no words behind them.
"She can hear me," Tessa said.
"Maybe," Mara said. "Don't get in the airway."
Tessa moved back.
Elise coughed again. Deeper. Her body curled slightly to one side. Pink fluid reached the inside of the mask before Mara lifted it and suctioned. Elise's chest and abdomen tightened. Her hand lifted from the sheet, fingers splayed, then dropped against the towel.
"Pulmonary oedema," Mara said.
"Keep supporting breaths," Freya said.
"She's fighting the bag."
"Match what she gives us. Don't overfill her."
Mara adjusted. Smaller breaths, timed with Elise's weak attempts. The mask fogged and cleared in short, uneven bursts. Elise looked awake enough to suffer the mask and not awake enough to refuse it. Her face pressed into plastic. Her open suit lay wet beneath the pads. The towel covered only what Mara had time to cover. Nobody's gaze stayed clean all the time.
When Elise tried to pull against the mask, Mara held the seal and did not apologise. The breath went in smaller this time, timed with the little effort Elise could still make. Her eyes stayed wet and half-open. The plastic rim pressed a red mark across the bridge of her nose.
Callum noticed Mara's hand at Elise's jaw. Strong fingers under the angle, thumb on the mask, practical pressure. He noticed Elise's throat move under the oxygen and thought of the lane, the cap, the graceful turns. Then he thought of the way her body had jerked when shocked. Shame followed, but shame did not erase the image.
The paramedics arrived at five forty-seven.
Two crew members came in first, one woman and one man, with a student behind them carrying the monitor bag. The senior paramedic took the room in quickly: wet adult female on the couch, open suit, pads on, BVM in use, pool staff crowding the walls, one AED already connected, suction tubing used and hanging, water on the floor.
"Handover."
Freya gave it. Adult female, twenty-two, recovered from pool bottom, agonal breathing, weak pulse, BVM support, pulseless arrest in medbay, one shock, ROSC, ongoing respiratory failure, suspected aspiration and pulmonary oedema.
The paramedic listened with one hand on Elise's carotid. The student placed monitoring leads around the pads. The male paramedic cut more of the suit away to clear the chest and attach their equipment. He covered her when he could, but the work took priority. Elise did not react to the fabric being moved.
The paramedic's equipment made the same scene look less like the pool's and more like hospital. Their monitor leads went around the existing pads. Their oxygen tubing replaced Red Guard's tubing. Their hands took the mask and airway with no interest in who had held it first.
"I've got airway," the senior paramedic said.
Freya handed over the BVM. The step back hit her harder than she expected. As long as her hands were on the mask, she had a task. Without it, she had to stand and watch someone else ventilate the swimmer who had gone missing in her pool.
The paramedic's seal was stronger. Elise's chest rose higher, too high once, then more controlled after the paramedic adjusted volume. The monitor showed a fast rhythm that looked organised and weak. Blood pressure cuff around Elise's arm. Oxygen saturation probe on a finger that was still cold from the water. Numbers appeared after a delay.
"She's peri-arrest," the senior paramedic said.
Mara looked at Freya. Freya kept her eyes on Elise.
Elise's eyes rolled up.
"Pulse," the senior paramedic said.
The male paramedic checked. "No pulse."
"CPR."
Callum stepped forward.
The male paramedic put a hand against his chest. "We'll take it."
Callum stepped back. He felt relief first. Then humiliation because the relief had come before concern.
The paramedic began compressions. He did not know Elise as a fast-lane swimmer. He did not know the tattoo at her hip or the way she had pushed off the wall. He compressed a patient in arrest. The movement was harder than Callum's had been. Elise's chest sank under each push. The pads stayed flat. The tube of oxygen ran clear of the hands. The BVM mask stayed sealed between breaths.
"Shockable. Charging."
"Clear."
The second shock moved Elise more violently than the first. Her shoulders came up. Her wet hair shifted and left a dark print on the pillow.
"Continue."
Compressions again.
Tessa backed into the cabinet. Tears were on her face. She had not noticed when they started. Izzie noticed and did not write it down.
Rowan coughed in the corridor.
Mara heard it but stayed with Elise until the third shock. The paramedics got another pulse, weaker than the first. They prepared to move with BVM support. Elise remained unresponsive. Her eyes were taped partway closed before transport because they would not stay shut and nobody wanted them drying on the way.
They loaded her through the side door. The BVM mask stayed over her face until the ambulance. One paramedic walked at the head and ventilated. One pushed. The student managed the monitor leads and the oxygen cylinder.
Tessa watched the clear mask move with each assisted breath. The last thing she saw before the ambulance doors closed was Elise's chest rising under the cut swimsuit and blankets.
The doors shut at five fifty-nine.
Nobody spoke until the ambulance left.
The pool was empty except for staff. Tessa had closed the gate and sent the adult swimmers away with the same sentence until she could say it without hearing herself. Medical incident. Pool closed. No further information.
Freya stood on the deck with both hands on her hips. She looked at the concrete. Her bare feet were wet from the medbay floor.
"Inside," she said. "All of you."
The staff room held six damp guards, one half-filled kettle, two plastic chairs and a table too small for a serious conversation. Izzie sat with the log. Freya stood. Mara leaned against the counter. Callum took the chair nearest the door and rubbed the heel of his hand against his own sternum without noticing. Tessa sat on the edge of the other chair. Rowan remained standing until Freya told him to sit.
"Timeline," Freya said.
Izzie read from the sheet.
Five ten adult lane session began. Five twenty-four rotation. Five thirty-one lane four queried. Five thirty-two casualty recovered. Five thirty-four assisted ventilations. Five thirty-six pulseless arrest. Five thirty-seven shock one. Five forty pulse. Five forty-two respiratory deterioration. Five forty-seven ambulance crew arrival. Five fifty-one second arrest. Five fifty-two shock two. Five fifty-six shock three. Five fifty-eight ROSC. Five fifty-nine transported.
The times were clean because times always looked clean after someone wrote them. They did not include the moment Tessa asked whether Elise was resting. They did not include Rowan saying underwaters because the alternative required movement. They did not include Callum's first thought when Mara cut the suit or Izzie's hard little interest when the pads went on. They did not include any part of the shift that would embarrass the living.
"Who first identified submersion?" Freya asked.
Mara said, "I did."
Rowan shifted. "I was on the chair."
Mara looked at him. "That wasn't the question."
Freya held a hand up. "What did you see?"
Rowan answered too fast. "Lane looked clear. She'd been doing underwater work. Tessa asked if she was resting. I said probably. Then Mara called it."
Tessa looked down at her hands.
Freya turned to her. "You saw lane four empty?"
"I saw it between lengths. I thought she might be at the wall."
"How long?"
"I don't know."
"Guess."
Tessa swallowed. "Thirty seconds. Maybe more."
No one softened it for her.
Callum leaned forward. "We got her out."
Mara looked at him. "Late."
"You don't know that."
"She was on the bottom."
"Enough," Freya said.
Rowan coughed into his fist.
Freya glanced at him. "Drink water."
"I'm fine."
"That was not a question."
He stood, irritated, and went to the sink. He drank from a paper cup and coughed halfway through. The cough was deeper than before. It came from low in the chest and ended with him clearing his throat as if he could hide the sound by force.
Mara watched him over the clipboard.
"Did you aspirate?"
Rowan gave a short laugh. "What?"
"When you went under. Did you take in water?"
"It's a pool. Everyone takes in water."
"Answer."
"No."
Tessa did not move. Mara saw that too.
Freya closed the log. "Pool stays closed. Tessa, front gate. Medical incident, closed for the evening, no details. Izzie, start the full report. Callum, medbay with Mara. Restock and clean. Rowan, sit down and stop arguing."
"Freya."
"Sit."
He sat.
For ten minutes, work gave them a place to put their hands. Tessa handled the gate. Izzie transferred times. Mara stripped the first couch, replaced the suction canister and tubing, wiped the vinyl, changed the pillowcase, checked the BVM valves and counted masks. Callum refilled drawers with gloves and dressings under her direction.
"Do you think she'll live?" he asked.
Mara opened a packet of electrodes and placed it in the drawer. "I don't know."
"You must have a guess."
"Don't ask me for one."
"Why?"
"Because whatever I say, you'll turn it into something about yourself."
His jaw tightened. "That's a nice thing to say after I did compressions for her."
"You did them after she had no pulse. I am talking about now. Restock drawer three."
He slammed the drawer harder than necessary.
In the staff room, Rowan coughed until his eyes watered. He checked the internal window. Izzie watched him over the top of the report.
"You should tell Mara."
"Do you ever stop recording?"
"No."
"Then record that I'm fine."
"You look grey."
"You look entertained."
The comment landed close enough that Izzie's pen stopped.
Rowan tried to stand. He had meant to make a point. The first attempt failed. He sat back down too hard and put a hand to his chest, fingers spread over the damp white shirt.
Izzie called, "Freya."
"Don't," Rowan said.
She called louder. "Freya."
Freya came from the corridor. Mara followed because she knew Izzie's tone.
Rowan looked up at them, sweating now. "She's making it dramatic."
Mara stepped close. "Take your sunglasses off."
"Why?"
"Because you're indoors and I want to see your eyes."
He took them off. His pupils were equal. His skin was wrong. Pale around the mouth, red high at the cheekbones. The edge of his lower lip had a faint grey-blue cast that Mara did not like.
"Chest pain?"
"No."
"Short of breath?"
"No."
He coughed before he finished the word. A long wet cough bent him forward over his knees. When he straightened, his eyes had watered and his breathing stayed too quick.
"Medbay," Mara said.
"No."
Freya said, "Rowan."
He stood because pride lasted for another few seconds. He made it four steps before the corridor tilted under him. He reached for the wall. Callum caught him under one arm.
"I've got you."
"Get off."
"Walk, then."
Rowan tried. His knees buckled at the medbay door.
Freya and Callum got him onto the second treatment couch. Mara had the pulse oximeter on his finger before he finished swearing. Izzie appeared in the doorway with the phone still in her hand. Tessa came from the front gate, saw Rowan on the couch, and stopped.
The number took a few seconds.
Eighty-seven.
Mara's expression closed.
"Top off."
"No."
"Top off or I cut it."
"Mara, don't be obscene."
"You're hypoxic after submersion. I need access to your chest. Choose quickly."
Freya leaned over him. "Stop performing."
That landed. Rowan pulled the wet long-sleeve shirt over his head with Callum's help. He was shivering. His chest was lean, sun-reddened at the collarbones, wet hair stuck to his forehead and neck. Chlorine had dried in white marks on his skin.
Rowan had been on the rescuer side an hour earlier. Shirt off, wet, shivering, he looked less like staff and more like the kind of patient he normally mocked afterwards. The whistle against his bare chest made that worse. He kept his chin high until Mara put the mask on him.
Mara placed a simple oxygen mask over his face.
He lifted a hand at once.
Freya caught his wrist. "Leave it."
He glared through the clear plastic.
"You know better," she said.
The mask fogged hard when he breathed out. His breathing had been faster than he had let them see. The elastic strap ran behind his head and flattened his hair. The green tubing dropped over his bare shoulder. His red whistle still hung around his neck, resting against his sternum between the mask tubing and the first ECG lead Mara placed a moment later.
The mask changed his face at once. Rowan had a mouth made for smirking, arguing, getting away with things. The clear plastic covered all of that. His eyes had to do the talking now, and they were not as casual as his voice had been.
Tessa stood in the doorway. She had known Rowan for two summers as lazy, irritating, sometimes funny, sometimes cruel. She had never seen him obedient under a mask. The sight went through her in a way she did not want to examine. His mouth was covered. His anger had nowhere to go except his eyes. His chest rose and fell too fast under the electrodes Mara pressed onto damp skin.
"What happened?" Tessa asked.
"Gate," Freya said.
"There's no one there."
"Then stand outside this door and be quiet."
Tessa stayed where she was.
Mara listened to Rowan's chest. Right side acceptable. Left base wet. Wheeze over both. She moved the stethoscope and listened again. Rowan watched her face through the mask. The plastic flattened his voice when he spoke.
"What?"
"You aspirated."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"I swallowed a bit."
"Your left base is wet and your sats are falling."
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here."
"Then stop lying about your breathing."
Freya took the stethoscope from Mara and listened herself. She did not like what she heard either.
"Ambulance," she said.
"No ambulance," Rowan said.
"You don't get a vote."
Izzie had the phone out already.
Rowan's hand tightened around the edge of the couch. Callum saw his knuckles go pale. Then Rowan's breathing changed. It went from fast to uneven, with short gaps between pulls.
"Ro?"
Rowan looked at him. No joke came. His eyes shifted away and then back.
"I feel..."
He did not finish.
The saturation dropped to eighty-two.
Mara removed the simple mask and replaced it with a non-rebreather. Higher flow. Reservoir bag filled. Strap behind the head. Rowan tried to push up on one elbow.
"Lie back," Mara said.
"Can't."
"You can."
"I can't get air."
That changed the medbay.
Freya moved to the head. Callum stepped back. Izzie gave the address again and said second adult casualty, lifeguard, respiratory distress after submersion exposure during rescue. Tessa pressed herself to the door frame.
Mara tightened the non-rebreather. The mask sat hard against Rowan's face. Each inhale pulled the plastic in slightly. His neck muscles worked. His bare chest rose in sharp uneven movements. The red whistle and the white ECG stickers made the scene look wrong in a way no one wanted to say aloud.
He breathed through the non-rebreather with his shoulders lifting off the couch. Each pull drew the mask tight for a second. The reservoir bag stayed full because the flow was high, but Rowan still looked as if he were working around the plastic instead of through it.
He looked at Freya because she was the person he least wanted to need.
She held the edge of the mask with one hand and felt the pulse in his neck with the other.
"Stay with us."
He nodded once, small and furious.
Then his eyes rolled upward.
Mara had the BVM in her hand before Rowan sagged fully.
"He's going."
His body stiffened for a second and then slackened. The non-rebreather lost its seal when his jaw fell. The saturation fell into the seventies. The monitor showed a fast rhythm, then poor pickup from movement, then a rate that did not match the effort in the room.
Freya checked the carotid.
"Pulse present. Weak. Bag him."
Mara fitted the BVM mask over Rowan's face. It was larger than the non-rebreather and sealed over nose and mouth with more force. Freya lifted the jaw. Mara squeezed.
The BVM made him still in a different way. It was harder to fight a mask that someone else was holding with purpose. Mara's palm steadied his forehead. Freya's fingers lifted under the jaw. The seal took his mouth away from him completely.
Rowan's chest rose shallowly.
"Again. More."
Mara adjusted his head and squeezed again. This time the rise was clear. Rowan's ribs lifted under the leads. His abdomen stayed flatter. Better.
Callum stared at the movement. He had watched Elise's chest rise under forced breaths less than an hour before. This was worse because Rowan's body was familiar. Rowan's whistle lay against his sternum. Rowan's hair was damp on the pillow. Rowan's chest moved because Mara's hand compressed the bag.
Tessa made a small sound.
Freya did not look at her. "Quiet or out."
Tessa covered her mouth with both hands and stayed.
Rowan gagged under the mask. Mara turned his head, suctioned water and vomit, then resealed. The BVM breaths continued. The mask fogged with exhale and cleared as oxygen went in. His eyelids trembled but did not open.
"Pulse dropping," Freya said.
Callum said, "No," with no use to anyone.
"Pads."
Mara stayed on the BVM. Izzie grabbed the AED pads. Callum cut the lanyard cord because the whistle lay where the upper pad needed to sit. The whistle fell beside Rowan's shoulder. Tessa heard the small plastic sound on the sheet and flinched.
Izzie dried Rowan's chest. He was damp enough that pad contact mattered. She worked quickly and with no gossip in her face now. Upper right pad. Lower left pad. Smooth the edges. Press. Connect.
The AED speaker played instructions already completed.
Freya's fingers remained at the carotid. The pulse faded beneath them.
"No pulse. Start compressions."
Callum stepped in and stopped.
He could not put his hands on Rowan's chest. Not fast enough. Not after failing to call lane four. Not after the paramedic had replaced him with Elise. Not with Rowan under the mask and the cut whistle on the sheet.
Mara looked up. "Callum."
The pause lasted only a second or two. In arrest, that was enough for Freya.
"Tessa. Compressions. Now."
Tessa stared. "Me?"
"Now."
She came forward. Her hands found the centre of Rowan's chest. Lower half of the sternum. Heel down, other hand over it, elbows locked. His skin was warm under her palm despite the shivering. She had touched him in jokes before, elbows and shoulders and careless poolside contact. This was not contact. This was use.
"Hard and fast," Freya said. "I'll count."
Tessa pushed.
Rowan's chest compressed beneath her. The first one felt wrong enough that she almost stopped. His sternum gave under her hands, not like a mannequin, not like training mats, not like anyone in a classroom had properly described. She pushed again before fear could catch up.
"One. Two. Three. Four. Five."
Her arms found rhythm. Her face changed. The friendly softness went out of it. Sweat mixed with pool water on her upper lip. Rowan's body rocked with each compression. Freya kept the head stable. Mara ventilated after thirty.
Two breaths.
Chest rise.
Again.
Compressions resumed.
Callum stood at the side with both hands open. The strongest man on shift had missed the first minute of Rowan's CPR. Izzie saw it. She wrote Tessa compressions commenced 18:17 and kept her eyes on the page because, for once, recording was kinder than looking.
"Analysing rhythm," the AED recording played. "Do not touch patient."
Tessa lifted her hands. Mara paused with the mask sealed but the bag uncompressed. Freya held off the pulse check until the analysis finished.
"No shock advised. Begin CPR."
Tessa went back down.
"Good," Freya said. "Keep going."
The word did something to Tessa. Her eyes filled. She kept the rhythm. Rowan's chest compressed under her hands. Mara ventilated. Freya watched face and pulse and monitor. Izzie logged. Callum finally moved to prepare the second oxygen cylinder. It gave him something useful to hold.
After the second cycle, Rowan's rhythm organised. Freya checked the neck.
"Pulse."
Mara kept the mask sealed. "Respiratory effort?"
Freya watched. "Poor. Continue ventilations."
Tessa stepped back and looked at her hands.
Rowan's eyelids opened halfway during the third minute of bagging. His eyes moved from ceiling to Freya to the mask. Panic arrived fast. His hand jerked toward his face.
Freya caught it. "Leave it."
He tried again.
"Rowan. You arrested. We are breathing for you. Leave the mask on."
The words reached him in fragments. Arrested. Breathing. Mask. His eyes widened. Mara squeezed the bag again and his chest rose against his own weak resistance. The breath went in anyway. He exhaled around the valve. The mask fogged.
Mara waited until the exhale finished before she squeezed again. She watched the lower ribs and not his face. That made it worse for him. He was used to people looking at his expression, waiting for him to turn a moment into a joke. Under the mask, with air being given to him, there was nowhere useful to put the joke.
The shame came before the fear. Everyone saw it. He had been the one who said fine. The one who delayed. The one who did not want Mara looking at him. Now his bare chest carried pads and leads. His whistle lay cut beside him. A woman he teased for being too nice had compressed his heart while another woman forced oxygen into him through a mask.
"Don't fight it," Mara said. "Let me ventilate you."
There was nothing tender in the sentence. It worked anyway. Rowan stopped trying to pull the mask away. His fingers twisted into the sheet. Mara continued with slower breaths, watching the chest. Freya kept the jaw lifted and checked the pulse every few seconds.
Tessa stood near Rowan's feet, breathing hard as if she had been underwater. She could still feel the depth of his sternum under her hands. The feeling did not leave when she stopped.
The second ambulance crew arrived at six twenty-four.
They found Rowan shirtless on the treatment couch, wet red shorts, AED pads on his chest, ECG leads between them, BVM sealed to his face by Mara, Freya at the head, Tessa pale beside the trolley, Callum managing oxygen, Izzie with two pages of times.
"Handover."
Freya gave it. Adult male lifeguard, twenty-three, submersion exposure during drowning rescue, delayed respiratory distress, hypoxia, respiratory arrest progressing to pulseless arrest, CPR commenced, no shock advised, ROSC, ongoing assisted ventilation, suspected aspiration.
The paramedic looked at Rowan. "You've had a full shift."
Rowan could not answer. The mask covered his face. His eyes moved toward the voice and failed to stay there.
"We'll take over ventilation."
Mara held for one more breath, then handed the mask over. Her fingers released reluctantly. She had not expected that from herself. The paramedic's grip changed the seal. Rowan felt it and tried to turn his head.
"No," the paramedic said. "Stay still."
Rowan obeyed because there was not much else he could do.
They prepared him for transport. The BVM remained in use until his own breathing improved enough for a non-rebreather. He fought that too, less from refusal than from fear. The paramedic tightened the strap. Rowan shut his eyes while the mask fogged with faster breaths.
The non-rebreather went back over his face for transport. Rowan flinched at the strap, then stopped himself because everyone saw it. The paramedic pulled the elastic tight. The mask sealed. Rowan's chest rose in fast, shallow movements under the pads until the oxygen steadied him enough to load.
At the ambulance doors, Tessa stepped forward.
"Ro."
His eyes opened.
She had meant to say something useful. Nothing useful came. She looked at the mask, the pads still under the blanket, the cut red cord on the medbay counter behind them.
"You came back," she said.
Regret hit her as soon as the words left her mouth. They sounded like she had already put him somewhere else and was surprised to see him again.
Rowan's hand lifted a few inches and stopped.
The paramedic closed the doors.
The second ambulance left at six thirty-six.
The pool stayed closed.
Freya called it herself. No statement beyond medical incident. No names. No speculation. Staff remained for accounts, equipment check and management handover.
Tessa sat on the floor outside the medbay with her back to the wall. Her red swimsuit had dried except where it was damp at the front from Rowan's chest and the couch. She did not know whether the damp was pool water, sweat, or something from the resuscitation. She did not want to know and could not stop thinking about it.
Inside, the medbay had two stripped couches. Both paper rolls had been torn off. Both pillows needed replacing. The bin held cut fabric, used dressings, empty electrode packets, suction tubing, towels, wrappers, the snipped remains of Rowan's lanyard, the first BVM valve in a labelled bag, and gloves curled inside out.
Callum cleaned. Cleaning gave him a reason not to speak. He wiped the couch rails, the vinyl, the trolley, the oxygen knobs, the cabinet handles. He paused over Rowan's red whistle, which someone had set on the counter.
"Leave it," Mara said.
"I was just moving it."
"Leave it."
He did.
Izzie sat at the desk and copied rough times into the incident report. Her handwriting stayed neat. She hated that. She wanted one letter to show that she had watched Elise shocked three times and Rowan bagged on the second couch. Nothing changed in the handwriting.
Freya called the hospital at seven twenty. She gave her name, position, site, and the fact that two adult casualties had been transported from the pool. She was put on hold twice.
When she came back into the medbay, everyone looked at her.
"Elise is in resus," Freya said. "Critical. They are ventilating. Rowan is in ambulance handover. Conscious intermittently. High-flow oxygen. Treating aspiration."
"Conscious is good," Tessa said.
Mara looked at her.
Tessa met the look. "I know it doesn't mean safe."
Nobody corrected her.
At eight, the manager arrived. Duncan wore a polo shirt over jeans and looked at the medical waste as if it had been left there to inconvenience him. Freya gave him the timeline. Mara gave him the kit replacement list. Izzie gave him nothing until he asked for it properly.
Duncan skimmed the first page. "We need to be careful with wording around liability."
Mara stared at him.
Freya said, "Later."
"I understand emotions are high."
"Later."
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Freya still wore the red swimsuit, barefoot and damp in places from kneeling beside two patients. Mara still had drying blood and adhesive on one glove cuff because she had not noticed it. Callum looked as if he would break something if given an excuse. Duncan chose not to become the excuse. He left to call head office.
At eight thirty-five, the hospital called back.
Freya took the call in the office and closed the door. Mara watched through the internal window. The answer was clear before Freya hung up. Freya did not cry. She stood very still, listened, said thank you, and placed the handset back in the cradle.
She came out.
"Elise died in resus at eight twenty-nine."
Tessa made no sound. Callum sat down on the nearest chair. Izzie closed the folder and put both hands flat on it.
Mara asked, "Rowan?"
"Assessment. Oxygen. Awake sometimes. Not leaving tonight."
No one said that was good. Good had become too small and too easy to misuse.
They stayed another hour because forms needed signatures. Each person wrote an account.
Tessa wrote hers twice. The first version said she saw lane four empty and thought the swimmer was at the wall. The second version added that she had asked Rowan and accepted his answer. Freya did not tell her to add it. Tessa wrote it because the first version was too clean.
Mara's account was exact and cold.
Callum's used the word we too often. He crossed it out in two places and replaced it with I.
Izzie's had times down to the minute and no mention of the look on Rowan's face when Tessa spoke at the ambulance doors.
Freya's was the shortest.
By ten, the pool area was dark except for the security lights and the office. The water remained uncovered. The black line in lane four showed through the surface. A maintenance worker would test chemicals in the morning. Someone would ask whether the pool could reopen. Someone would check the rota. The adult lane swimmers would talk about it in the car park and online.
Tessa stood by the deep end before leaving.
Mara came up beside her.
"Don't," Mara said.
Tessa did not look over. "Don't what?"
"Make it dramatic."
"I was going to say I should have called it."
"Yes. You should have."
Tessa nodded.
The answer was cruel. It was also cleaner than comfort.
"Do you think Rowan heard me?" Tessa asked. "At the ambulance."
"Probably."
"He looked scared."
"He was scared."
Tessa folded her arms tight across her chest. "I didn't know him looking like that would feel that way."
Mara said nothing.
Inside the office, Izzie put Rowan's cut whistle into a small evidence bag because she did not know where else to put it. She labelled it with his name, the date, and the time it had been removed. She did not write that it had fallen beside his shoulder when the pads went on. She did not write that the red plastic looked obscene against the white sheet while Tessa compressed his chest.
Some details had no line on the form.
Freya locked the medbay last. Before she did, she counted the oxygen masks, checked both BVMs, replaced the AED pads, checked the suction canister, folded two blankets, and put fresh paper on both couches. She opened the drawer with the non-rebreathers and counted them twice.
Then she turned off the overhead lights.
The staff left by the side gate.
The next morning Freya arrived before opening and went into the medbay alone. She wrote two names on the whiteboard under follow-up.
Elise Rainer.
Rowan Bell.
After Rowan's name she wrote hospital: update pending.
After Elise's, she left the line blank.
She opened the oxygen cupboard and counted the masks again.
Random Resus Lines (in no particular order)
“Babe! Don’t give up on me! The ambulance is almost here!”
“Come on stay with me!”
“I can’t lose you !”
“Pulse check, hold compressions”
“Just breathe for me!”
“No, you can’t stop!”
“Bag her”
“Get her on the monitor”
“24 year old woman, down ten minutes”
“Last shock, come back to us girl”
“You have to save her!”
“Fuck, I’m not getting a pulse!”
“Clear!”
“Tox screen positive for opiates”
“We did everything we could, but we lost her”
“Nothing is working…should we call it?”
“No pulse on the monitor! Start compressions!”
“Her heart want strong enough this time”
“She didn’t make it”
“Baby, please breathe!”
“Shocking again at 360!”
“Damn it…Nothing”
“Doctor it’s been 40 minutes of resuscitation with no response”
“She’s got a pulse”
“Pushing epi!”
“Sweetie, don’t ever do that again”
“She’s gone”
“Time of death 11:54am”
6 months to arrest
Credits: Digital02
Red Guard - Story Masterlist
(NOTE: Unlike our main reads, these are intended to be read in a chronological, episodic order.)
Back to the main Masterlist
—————————————————————
Introduction - Meet The Team

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“A heightened poolside medical drama following six adult lifeguards at a summer public pool, where rescues rarely end at the water’s edge. Between the deck, the medbay, and the hospital, each story leans into resusfet and medfet themes: oxygen masks, AED pads, BVMs, monitoring, collapse, CPR, and the uneasy shift from rescuer to patient.”
Meet the team:
(See the image below for reference numbers)
1 — Tessa Vale
Tessa is the far-left guard in the red swimsuit. Warm, funny, and easy with families, she is good at keeping people calm when something goes wrong. She can be careless when the pool feels routine, missing the small signs before someone ends up in the medbay.
2 — Rowan Bell
Rowan is second from the left, in the white long-sleeve top and red shorts. A strong swimmer and reliable in the water, he is often first into the pool when someone needs pulling out. His problem is complacency: he shrugs things off, ignores procedure, and insists people are fine until they are not.
3 — Mara Keene
Mara is third from the left, in the white guard vest and red shorts. She is sharp, practical, and the best with the medbay kit: oxygen, masks, pads, observations, and the awkward silence after a bad pull-out. She is also harsh, controlling, and not gentle with panic.
4 — Callum Rook
Callum is the middle-right guard in the white vest. Strong, confident, and good in front of a crowd, he likes being the one who carries people out and takes charge. He wants to look capable, which makes it harder for him when a rescue turns messy or when the patient is one of their own.
5 — Izzie Marr
Izzie is second from the right, in the cap and glasses. She handles radios, logs, kit checks, timings, and the details everyone else forgets. Quietly nosy and observant, she notices who freezes, who lies about symptoms, and who watches a little too closely when the oxygen comes out.
6 — Freya North
Freya is the far-right guard in the red swimsuit. Calm, severe, and hard to rattle, she takes over quickly when someone is on the floor or on the medbay couch. She is good with masks, orders, and pressure, but she can be cold, proud, and more focused on control than comfort.
The girl wanted to scream but she knew what such an infraction would result in.
That sharp, intelligent mind so proud, so scared still fought to stay above it all.
As if clenching her thighs and gritting teeth could stop what was coming.
As if anything could. A low, wet gurgle betrayed her. Then another.
The nurse smiled and palmed the front of the diaper again, feeling it expand ever so slightly with the first betraying tinkles.
“Good girl," she whispered, voice like velvet, "let it all out. You're almost home."
And then it happened, full and sudden. The sharp gasp, the desperate arch of her back, the diaper swelling with soft crackles and squishes beneath her.
It was always the same expression when they crossed that line: horror, relief, disbelief.
The nurse put her soft rubber gloved hand between the girl’s legs as she whimpered and sagged against the restraints.
First one's always the hardest, baby. But they get easier. Especially once your brain catches up to your tush." She patted the warm, bulging padding, already browning at the edges. "Give it a few weeks. You won't even flinch."
Inge credit Private Patient