Dominated By Him
I dropped to my knees beside his wheelchair, my hands automatically moving to check his pulse.
"How long have you been having chest pain?" I asked, my voice taking on the crisp, professional tone I'd learned during my medical rotations.
"Just... just started," he managed between labored breaths.
His pulse was elevated but regular. I moved my hands to his chest, feeling for any obvious irregularities while mentally running through differential diagnoses.
"Any radiation of the pain? Down your arm, into your jaw?"
"No... just... crushing feeling in chest."
Myocardial infarction was possible, but at his age and apparent fitness level... I pressed my fingers against his carotid artery, counting b