Miraculous Treatment

Let me breathe!

Remi's chest constricted painfully as she struggled to breathe. Rushed to the hospital, she received mysterious treatment due to a medical error, which miraculously stopped the asthma attack and restored her breathing. While she felt healthier than ever before, along with this astonishing recovery came peculiar abilities and Remi couldn't shake off the sense of foreboding. This miraculous healing may have come at a cost that she wasn't prepared to pay. 

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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