Let me breathe!
A short excerpt from the story
The
flashing lights of the ambulance illuminated the night as it came to a stop at
the entrance of the bustling hospital. The doors flew open, and they wheeled in
Remi on a stretcher.
A
kind-looking nurse with blonde hair approached them with a warm smile. “Hello
dear, my name is Anna,” she introduced herself before leading them to Bed B.
With
gentle hands and a sense of urgency, they carefully transferred Remi onto the
bed as Anna immediately began assessing her condition. She listened intently to
her lungs, checking for any signs of distress.
As
Anna worked, the paramedic gave his report, and she quickly started an IV line
in Remi's hand. Meanwhile, a nurse's aide unhooked Remi’s oxygen tube from the
tank, connected the tube to the central connection, and attached the cardiac
monitor electrodes to her chest.
The
heavy curtain that separated the beds was suddenly pulled aside with a loud
swoosh. In its place stood a tall man with thick, salt-and-pepper hair. He
swept his gaze across the small cubicle before fixing his attention on Remi.
Introducing himself as Dr. Schwarz, he took note of the discarded nebulizer
pipe lying on her bed before directing his piercing blue eyes to her face and
hands. “Let me listen to your lungs,” he said in a no-nonsense tone, holding
out his stethoscope.
Remi
nodded weakly and struggled to sit up, wincing at the sharp pain in her chest.
The doctor placed the cold metal against her skin and listened intently to her
lung sounds, his brow furrowing in concern. After a moment, he asked, “How long
have you been dealing with asthma?”
“Since...as
far back as I can remember,” Remi gasped out between ragged breaths, beads of
sweat forming on her forehead. “I take preventive medications and usually use
my nebulizer during sudden attacks, but I didn’t have any solution and the
inhaler didn’t help.”
The
doctor's expression turned sympathetic as he nodded understandingly. “We'll get
you taken care of,” he assured her before turning to the nurse.
“It’s
my fault!” Emily informed the doctor with tears in her eyes. “Remi is staying
with me while her parents are in South America with Doctors Without Borders,
and I didn’t know she’s allergic to cats.”
“It’s
okay,” Dr. Schwarz spoke in a soothing voice. “We’ll make her better, but I’m
afraid, you need to get rid of your cat.”
“It’s
not mine, just cat-sitting for a friend, but I’m going to call my other friends
right now. I’m sure one of them will take the cat,” Emily said and pulled out
her cell phone. “I’ll be in the waiting room,” she flashed a nervous smile at
the young girl and hurried out of the room.
The
doctor turned to the nurse. “Anna, let’s give her 125 Solumedrol, hook her up
for continuous nebulizer, and get a portable chest X-ray as well.”
The
nurse nodded and left the room. The doctor smiled, pulled the curtain that
separated Remi’s room from bed C, and greeted the patient. “Hi Konrad, are you
ready?”
“Yes,”
sounded a young boy’s voice.
The
doctor stopped for a second, thinking, and then turned back to Remi. “Do you
speak German by any chance?” he asked.
Caught
off guard by the unexpected question, Remi hesitated before responding. Despite
having learned the language from her nanny since she was a toddler until high
school, she decided against admitting it upon seeing the doctor's peculiar
expression.
“No,
but I speak French,” she replied.
“Never
mind, I just thought... because of your last name, Hansen,” he mumbled,
stepping out of the room, and pulling the curtain closed behind him.
That
was strange. Why did he ask me if I speak German? Perhaps he doesn’t want me to
know what they’re talking about in the next cubicle. Remi
wondered, listening to the conversation coming from behind the curtain.
“Are
you sure you want it done this way?” Dr. Schwarz asked, speaking in German, and
continued. “Don’t worry, the girl in that bed doesn’t understand the language.”
Remi
heard a boy's and an older-sounding man’s voices answering, “Yes, we definitely
want the treatment.” And the older voice continued. “My son is sixteen, and
with cystic fibrosis and rare blood type, finding a cure or donor is close to
impossible. He might have a year left. But with your treatment, he could
live a full, healthy life.”
She
heard the doctor’s sigh, as he said, “I want to make sure you understand what
will happen after the treatment.”
Konrad
assured the doctor, “We thought it over very carefully what you said, and I
fully understand the benefits. And...” he hesitated. “And I accept the
obligation that comes with your treatment as well.”
“We
took the necessary precautions as you instructed, and his handler will arrive
tomorrow to discuss more details with us. Everything is ready,” The older man
said.
“Okay,
I’ll be back in a minute,” the doctor replied.
Remi
wondered what that treatment was. Poor Konrad. He’s my age and it sounds
like he doesn’t have long to live. That’s terrible. Remi though,
feeling so much empathy for the boy. But why didn’t the doctor
say medication or something specific? He repeated the German word behandlung,
which means treatment. And because we’re in the hospital it must be medical
treatment.
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