Since Monday morning I have felt a pressure grasp my heart, gently squeezing my chest and has made breathing more difficult.
In the balance.
A poor Segev with a lifetime of experience in lung infections. Colonized by Klebsiellla and Pseudomonas, even candida.
Oxygen marker low, fingernails turning dark, breathing rapidly, unconscious.
Heart rate at 170, fighting.
Twitches never before seen, the sound of effort in breathing.
Again and again I question myself, my knowledge and experience, is this the best that can be done? The dozens of scenes in hospital running through my head, fighting, convincing nurses and technicians, physicians until something finally gets done that turns out had to be done the slow wheels working, ponderously assessing, if at all. Convincing, arguing, consulting. Short asides in the hall where everything is decided in nanoseconds.
Can I wait for them? I don't think so.
Fever, now the smell of acidosis. The use of bicarbonate. Moans. Difficult to concentrate on others. Work or perish. By hand. To mouth.
Coughing, from within the stupor, finally something moving. Day after day on oxygen. No smiles. And I know that if I don't stay calm I'll lose it forever. Sick myself.
The help of the children dresses my wound, obviously, because without them now I simply could not.
To lose him now, I simply could not.
There he is! He begins to open his eyes for a moment or two. His heart rate drops to reasonable levels slowly. His breathing is a little less labored. His fingers regain their color and his breath is only that of putrid mucus but not acidic. His head feels less misshapen by internal pressure. His heart rate begins to flow even more easy. His temperature is controlled by medication. Some of the phlegm is even white. Slower, bigger breaths. Less twitching, more seizures as of old. Food stays down. Bowels gurgling. Less cries and moans. Eyes open a bit more.