Twelve Patients Life And Death At Bellevue Hospital の小説・ストーリー

Diana too, quickly headed towards that direction once she discerned this was a serious issue. When Diana reached there, one of the E.R doctors quoted, "Time of Death 11:29 am!" Evidently, they were unable to steady or revive her.... With that said, another doctor started to cover up the patient with a piece of white clothing. Other patients nearby were all scared they may face same fate as their collegue just did. Diana scrutinized the patient that had just died, she noticed there was still some vitality and life force in her. "Give me her medical report!" She ordered at once.

He sat for a bit and skimmed through the papers and found almost only information about the patients. One piece of valuable source he found was that the ones that has been dragged here to become a lab rat were those with severe mental conditions. In fact all the patients in this room were claimed dead because of drug overdose. Stanley avert his gaze at the other room next to the current one they’re in. Just from a door away, he could clearly hear the screams of pain and agony. The scratching sound also overlaps with the harsh cry of patients. Throughout his reading period, Byul skillfully cleaned up the room and called out for assistance to get rid of the corpse. Even if he was slightly regr

The entire emergency floor fell into chaos. A crowd of doctors rushed over. Jaeren lowered his eyes to me, his tone serious to the point of obsession. “Elira, I brought in the best doctors in all of North America.” “If they can't bring you back today, this hospital goes down with you.” There were really more than twenty doctors surrounding me. Some of them were top specialists who had won the highest honors in international medicine. But all I could hear around me was— “No pulse.” “Fixed pupils.” “Time of death confirmed.”

“What happened?” I shook my head. “We had a seizure patient come in a short while ago. She was seizing on and off a couple of times, and the doctors couldn’t figure out was wrong with her. She has three kids, and she’s divorced so they stay with her all the time. She passed away today. I was with her.” “I’m sorry,” Skylar said. She understood how involved I got with my patients and how much their deaths got to me. “Shit happens sometimes.”

"Then choose. Just don't pretend it's not a choice. Don't pretend you didn't decide I wasn't worth saving." Maya looked away, unable to watch. That night, one of the high-risk individuals—a man in his sixties with emphysema—died quietly. Not from illness. From hopelessness. He simply stopped trying. Forty-five people remained. Catherine recorded it in her logs. "Psychological decline in high-risk patient. Expected outcome under current conditions." Expected outcome. As if a man giving up on life was just another data point. The temperature outside continued to rise. Minus twenty. Minus fifteen. Minus ten.

The way the doctors pounced, trying to save her until finally, they covered her face with the sheets. I know what that means… when a patient's face is covered, it means they’re no longer alive. Right? They’re gone….. To make matters worse, Miller and Claire didn’t survive either… they’d died on the second floor at the same time grandma did. I waited for the tears to come; however, I felt nothing……besides an insurmountable round of rage.

On the third day after my death, my soul lingered by my husband's side. I watched Clifford Holmes celebrate with Marie Harding for finally losing a difficult patient. He brought her back to our bedroom. "That pregnant patient suffered from congenital heart disease and lobar pneumonia. I pitied her. Whenever I think about the fact that I was behind her death, I feel super guilty," Marie sobbed, nearly fainting as she recounted the incident.

My eyes rolled hard, exhausted to the bone at the sight of yet another woman in a white coat. “Mr Fairfax,” she began in a thick accent, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose, “how nice of you to join the living.” My lips curled at her dry humour, but my eyes stayed on her purple hair tucked in her cap. “What happened to me, doctor…” I read her name tag, “Weathers?” She smiled, sporting a dimple on her left cheek. “Indeed. You were found behind the hospital's laundry centre with two other patients, and brought in immediately. One of them was dead on arrival, the other died shortly after being brought in. You…are the only one who survived.”

Deaths I still had no answers for. I slammed my fist against the wall, the force cracking the stone. The bruise on my knuckles healed instantly, but my rage did not. The door creaked open. Joe stepped in and bowed. “Your Majesty.” I turned sharply. “Have you investigated the issue? Has any doctor found a cure for this… plague?” My tone was sharp, my patience razor-thin. Joe lowered his head. “Five hundred and fifty-six people are dead. Two hundred more are still in the hospital. The doctors are running endless tests, but none have found a cure.”

“Those who developed terminal illnesses from prolonged exposure?” He looks at me now—not with fear, but warning. “Their deaths may have been coincidental,” he says solemnly. “I wish they were alive to clarify what truly happened.” The lie is smooth. “Interesting,” I say. I lean forward, my voice dropping. “Because hospital records show that their medical results suddenly vanished. Their bodies were cremated before their families were even notified.” The air in the room tightens. Even the walls seem to listen. Prince Albert exhales. “It is tragic that none survived.”