CHAPTER TEN: Not This Time.

The hospital never gives a warning before it changes a life. The monitor's continuous beeping added to the tension.

“Bring the oxygen cylinder. Get the non-rebreather mask. 

I need the crash cart close to me, now!,” Jasmine ordered.

The nurse nearest to her rushed out. The other wheeled the cart close to her.

“Emily,” Jasmine called.

Emily appeared at the door almost immediately.

“Get the suction machine ready. Ensure that it is working.”

“Alright.” Emily nodded and moved.

Jasmine checked Harrison’s pulse.

It was rapid. His skin had begun to lose its colour, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

“Mr. Cole, I need you to remain awake.”

His fingers moved weakly against the sheet.

She placed the oxygen mask over his face as soon as the equipment arrived and opened the flow. Harrison tried to inhale, but his chest movements became increasingly irregular. Jasmine watched the monitor but the saturation continued dropping.

She looked toward the door.

“Where is Dr. Lawson?”

“He’s handling an emergency in the surgical ward,” the nurse answered. “They said he is on his way.”

“How long?”

“They didn’t say.”

Jasmine looked back at Harrison.

His eyes were closing.

“No,” she said firmly. “Mr. Cole, open your eyes.”

He did not respond.

“Harrison!”

His eyelids fluttered, then fell shut.

Jasmine checked for a response.

“Mr. Cole, can you hear me?”

She checked his breathing again but his chest movement had stopped and for one second, the room disappeared. The sound of the monitor became distant, the oxygen mask trembled slightly in her hand and then a memory struck her with brutal clarity.

****

   Three years earlier, another hospital, another patient. Another monitor that had changed from warning to silence. She had been younger then, still learning how quickly a patient could disappear from the world. The man had been admitted with respiratory complications. His condition had worsened during a busy shift, and by the time Jasmine recognized how serious it was, the patient had stopped breathing.

She remembered calling for help. She remembered the nurses running. She remembered standing beside the bed while the team attempted to resuscitate him. She remembered his wife crying outside the room. Most of all, she remembered the helplessness.

The terrible knowledge that she had been there, but had not been enough. The patient had died. Jasmine had carried that memory for three years. It had followed her into every emergency and sat quietly behind every assessment. It had taught her to listen to the smallest change in breathing, to notice the slightest alteration in colour, to never dismiss a patient who said something was wrong.

****

Now, Harrison lay in front of her without breathing. Not this time. She would not stand there and watch another patient slip away.

  Jasmine removed the oxygen mask and checked Harrison’s airway.

“Bring the bag-valve mask. Get the suction ready. Move the bed away from the wall.”

The nurses moved immediately.

“Emily, start compressions.”

Emily climbed onto the side of the bed and began chest compressions.

Jasmine opened Harrison’s airway and checked for  obstruction. She saw no obvious blockage, but his breathing had completely stopped.

“The bag-valve mask is here,” a nurse said.

“Connect it to oxygen,” Jasmine instructed.

Jasmine positioned the mask over Harrison’s face.

“Continue compressions.”

She delivered ventilation while Emily maintained the compressions.

“Count with me.”

The room was filled with movements.

The monitor continued its alarming sound.

“Has Dr. Lawson arrived?” Jasmine asked.

“Not yet.”

“Call him again. Tell him the patient is in respiratory arrest and we have started resuscitation.”

The nurse ran.

Jasmine kept her eyes on Harrison.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Come on, Mr. Cole.”

His body remained still.

She checked his pulse again.

It was faint, but present.

“Continue ventilation,” she ordered. “He still has a pulse.”

That was the difference.He was not in cardiac arrest yet and so they still had a chance.

“Prepare the suction.”

Emily moved aside briefly as another nurse took over giving the compressions. The suction machine was switched on, and Jasmine quickly assessed Harrison’s airway again.

His breathing remained absent.

“Give me the bag.”

She delivered another breath, watching for chest rise.

This time, the chest lifted slightly.

“Good. Continue.”

A nurse rushed in with the emergency trolley.

“Airway equipment is here.”

“Keep it open. We may need advanced airway support.”

Jasmine checked the monitor. Harrison’s oxygen saturation had fallen dangerously low, his pulse weakened beneath her fingers.

“Stay with us,” she said, though she knew he could not answer. “You are leaving the room alive.”

         Just immediately she said that, the door opened. Dr. Richard Lawson entered, still wearing his surgical cap and gown beneath his coat.

“What happened?”

“Sudden respiratory arrest,” Jasmine replied without looking away from Harrison. “His saturation dropped rapidly. He became unresponsive and stopped breathing. Pulse is present but weak. We assessed Airway, Breathing and circulation then started Compressions immediately.”

Dr. Lawson moved to the bedside.

“And other doctors?”

“ We were informed they were also in the theatre handling different surgeries.” Jasmine replied tensely.

“Continue bagging. Prepare for intubation.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Jasmine stepped back just enough to allow him access, but she did not leave.

Dr. Lawson assessed Harrison quickly.

“Any suspected obstruction?”

“None visible.”

“Good. Keep oxygenation going.”

The team moved faster now. Dr. Lawson gave instructions, and the nurses responded. Equipment was opened. Suction was done to clearly rule out obstruction. The airway tray was placed beside the bed.

Jasmine remained at Harrison’s head, assisting with ventilation and watching his condition.

“His pulse is becoming weaker,” she said.

Dr. Lawson looked at the monitor.

“Prepare for possible cardiac arrest.”

The words struck the room with fresh urgency. Jasmine’s fingers tightened around the bag. She remembered the way the room had seemed too large three years ago and her hands too small. But she was not that inexperienced nurse anymore.

She knew what to do.

She knew what to watch.

She knew when to act.

“Jasmine,” Dr. Lawson said, “keep the airway supported.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Harrison’s pulse became stronger after the next round of ventilation.

“Pulse improving,” Jasmine reported.

A few seconds later, Harrison’s chest moved. It was uneven but respiration was present.

“Doctor,” Jasmine said, “he’s breathing.”

“Assist him. Don’t remove the oxygen.”

Harrison coughed faintly beneath the mask.

The sound was rough but at least he was alive.

“Good,” Dr. Lawson said. “Keep monitoring.”

Jasmine watched the oxygen saturation slowly begin to rise from one number to another. The monitor no longer screamed continuously, the room gradually became quieter, though no one relaxed. Harrison’s breathing remained laboured, and his eyes stayed closed.

Dr. Lawson examined him again.

“He is not stable yet,” he said. “Prepare for transfer to a higher level of care.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Jasmine continued holding the oxygen mask in place.

Her gloves were damp, her heart was pounding. She could still recall the memory of the other patient’s wife crying, she could still see the lifeless face on the bed. But this time, the patient in front of her was breathing.

Dr. Lawson looked at her.

“You acted quickly.”

Jasmine swallowed. “I couldn’t wait,Dr.” 

“You didn't need to. You saved him”

She nodded, though the words did not settle her.

Harrison’s eyelids suddenly lifted. His gaze moved across the room, confused and unfocused.

Jasmine leaned closer.

“Mr. Cole?”

His eyes found her. For a moment, he seemed unable to understand where he was.Then he tried to speak but only a broken sound came out.

“Don’t talk,” Jasmine instructed. “You’re receiving oxygen.”

His eyes remained on her. There was no arrogance in them now. Only confusion, fear and the desperate struggle to remain conscious.

Jasmine adjusted the mask.

“You’re safe.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

Harrison’s gaze stayed fixed on her. Dr. Lawson began giving instructions for the transfer. The nurses prepared the bed, gathered the necessary equipment and contacted the receiving unit.

Jasmine did not move away until another nurse took over the oxygen support. As they began to wheel Harrison out of the room, his hand shifted across the sheet. His fingers caught briefly against Jasmine’s wrist. She looked down but his grip was weak.

“You will be okay,” she said.

He did not answer. He couldn't answer.

The bed moved toward the corridor. Jasmine walked beside it, watching the monitor and listening to the uneven rhythm of his breathing. Behind them, Room 301 remained open. The emergency trolley stood beside the bed.The oxygen tubing lay across the sheets. The room had been filled with panic only minutes earlier.

Now, all that remained was the evidence of how close Harrison Cole had come to dying. Jasmine looked at his pale face and heaved a sigh of relief. 

And as Harrison disappeared through the doors of the higher-care unit, Jasmine realized something that frightened her more than the emergency itself. For the first time since her assignment to his care, she had not been thinking of Harrison Cole as a difficult patient, but as someone she could not allow to die.