Chapter 4 - CRISIS IN THE OR
Inside Operating Room 1, the air was cold and heavy with the smell of antiseptic and copper blood.
"Perform pericardiocentesis immediately," Dr. Miller ordered, snapping on sterile latex gloves.
"Set up peripheral and deep vein catheters for rapid blood transfusion."
Clara quickly scrubbed her hands and joined the surgical team around the table.
"Prepare intubation and grab a small forceps," Dr. Miller called to the surgical nurse.
The nurse handed the endotracheal tube to the lead anesthesiologist, who suddenly groaned.
The anesthesiologist stumbled backward, clutching his right wrist in pain.
"What's wrong?" Dr. Miller snapped, not looking up from the incision site.
"My hand... it hurts. I can't apply pressure or grip the instruments," the anesthesiologist groaned.
"Where is the secondary anesthesiologist?" Dr. Miller asked angrily.
"There are too many wounded patients in the triage yard today, sir! We don't have enough staff!" the nurse replied.
Dr. Miller cursed under his breath as Tyler's heart monitor began to beep erratically.
The patient's oxygen levels were plummeting fast.
Clara stepped forward, raising her gloved hands into the bright surgical light.
"Dr. Miller... let me try," Clara offered firmly.
Dr. Miller raised his head, staring at her through his glasses with clear doubt.
"You? You're an ER resident, Clara."
"I did extensive anesthesia training prior to my residency," Clara insisted, her voice unyielding.
"If we wait another minute for a backup doctor, this soldier dies on your table."
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Dr. Miller looked at the erratic heart monitor, then back at Clara, making a split-second decision.
