"Una imagen una historia"
Hello everyone!
When a picture speaks to us, our imagination flourishes and inspires us to create the most magical story ever. That's why the dynamic launched by our friend @franyeligonzalez is a great opportunity to unleash this creativity, and I'm excited to accept her invitation and participate in this competition.
The clinical glow of the neon lights reflected off the gleaming forceps, those silent sentinels lined up like steel soldiers on the battlefield. The green sheet vibrated with a barely perceptible shudder, while around the table, the blue silhouettes of the doctors seemed to move in slow motion, trapped by a tension that gripped the entire room.
"Sasha! Check the vitals again!" Dr. Elina called out, her voice meant to be calm but whose firmness betrayed the urgency.
"Blood pressure dropping!" he replied, his eyes fixed on the monitor, which was beeping with increasing frequency. "Saturation dropping, Elina!"
The surgeon closed her eyes for a brief moment, then took a deep breath, refusing to give in to the dizziness of panic. She grasped the Kocher forceps, her hand steady despite the icy sweat beading on her forehead.
"Paul! Suction!" she ordered, and the intern, trembling, plunged the suction cannula, the hissing sound of the suctioned blood echoing like a deadly echo.
Source
The silence was broken only by the intermittent alarms and the sharp clicking of the instruments, which themselves seemed to be gasping for breath. Elina's sharp gaze swept over the wound, where life flickered like a fragile flame.
Suddenly, a sharp click sounded: the cardiac monitor. The green line, however, became more irregular. The patient's heart was beating in time with fear.
"Cardiac massage!" Elina shouted, and Paul jumped up, placing his gloved hands on his bare chest, his eyes wide with the terror of the moment.
"He... he's not responding, Doctor!" Paul stammered, his voice choked with panic.
"Go on!" she yelled, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "We won't let him go!"
In the dim light, Sacha adjusted the adrenaline drip, his trembling fingers trying to reverse the inexorable. The instruments on the table seemed to vibrate, as if the room's anxiety had reached even the cold metal.
"Start again! Go!" Elina breathed, her own hands pressing on his ribcage, each movement echoing in his arms like a desperate plea for life.
And suddenly, a faint but steady beep sounded. A breath of relief swept through the room, but still no one dared to breathe deeply.
"He's back..." Sacha murmured, a shy smile behind his mask. "He's back."
"But for how long?" Paul whispered, as if the entire room could hear the doubt gnawing at him.
Elina straightened, her eyes shining fiercely.
"Long enough to save him. Give me the retractors, Paul. We're not finished yet."
As she was about to resume the procedure, a strange noise echoed through the corridor, a metallic clang, unexpected and almost unreal. Everyone froze, their gazes searching for the source of this unwelcome sound.
"What was it?" Sacha asked, his voice low, a shiver running down his spine.
"Probably an overturned trolley... or something else," Elina replied, without looking away from the gaping wound. "Ignore it. Here, only this life matters."
But deep in her heart, she felt the shadow of a threat. As if, beyond the walls of this room, something waited, ready to claim its due.
And as she plunged back into the patient's body, the fluorescent light grew even colder, bathing the scene in an almost spectral glow. In this universe where drama and hope clashed second after second, the only certainty that remained was the silent promise of their gloved hands, as long as they breathed, they would continue to fight. For, in the cruel ballet of life and death, every gesture, every instrument, and every breath carried within it the infinite echo of survival.
Thank you very much for reading, it's time to invite my friends @impersonal, @max-pro, @pathanapsana to participate in this contest.
Best Regards,
@kouba01
@tipu curate
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