"Dr. Cullen!" the nurse shouted "We're losing him! Pulse and blood pressure dropping rapidly! Heart rate decreasing!"
Dr. Cullen felt a rush of panic sweep over him, as a sinking feeling churned in the pit of his stomach, as he stood there motionless by his sedated patients head, thinking 'Oh no, not again.'
The lead surgeon called out to his nurses "We're gonna have to open him up!" The well seasoned physician called for a scalpel and two protractors. Dr. Cullen realized he had given too much Diprivan to Mr.David, as he monitored the patients weakening vital signs. The chest cavity was sliced, then split apart exposing the lungs; which in turn were pulled apart as the surgeon slipped his latex gloved hands down into the blood and gore of the warm body, holding the dying man's heart in the palms of his hands. "I'm starting the cardio-stimulation now, Dr. Cullen mark the time." Dr. Reardon slowly squeezed first right, then left, over and over again to massage the heart into starting again. It was a gruesome and difficult process but it had to be done or the young man, in his early twenties would die, literally in his hands. However Dr. Reardon had sworn an oath and would preform his duties to the best of his abilities for as long as necessary. Dr. Cullen noted the time as 3:27 p.m. 5/16/89, then he watched and waited.
The patient, Owen David, an electrician for G.E., was now, finally, in a place of calm where he felt a deep abiding peace envelope him like a womb. The pain and horror of his last day on Earth a far removed terror from his mind. It had been a rather nice Chicago spring morning, until Owen received a call about a newly installed electrical panel, about the size of a small house, that was smoking, out at the water filtration plant by Olive Park just off Lake Michigan. Owen had gone out to see what the trouble was and he decided to shimmy his way underneath the panel on his back, for there was just enough room for him to slide underneath the smoking mass. Where he determined the painters had done a sloppy job and paint had dripped down into the electrical points. So Owen knew the best thing to do was to just let it burn off so he slid back out. Now, in doing so, he arched his back, just ever so slightly, to squeeze out of the tight crawl space. This is when his belt buckle touched to the metal contact causing him to be electrocuted with 13,800 volts of searing electricity! It took two men, three minutes, with a rope tied around his ankles, to pull Owen out from underneath the panel, which his flesh had been melting to for five minutes. The upper part of his body was as black as charcoal, a white film covering his nearly blind eyes, the frantic men who rescued him sickened by the sight of a charred, living human being, quickly drove him to the nearest Hospital, Ravenswood, with two police escorts, who rushed down the busy streets of Chicago, sirens wailing, trying there best to seek medical attention for one of their fellow citizens, whom they were all sure was doomed to die that day. And the police, and men who rescued Owen, all did a valiant job getting him to the hospital in time, Owen drifting in and out of consciousness in the void of the gulf between the living and the dead where he now found himself. He had a feeling of being lifted up into a soft white light, were he saw three clear, floating beings, almost like jellyfish, Owen thought. Then from out of the peace and comfort and light he saw another being that was dark and ominous and Owen began to feel the sting of pain return once again as the black mass rushed towards him, enveloping him in an infinite darkness.
The patient suddenly opened his eyes and let out the most excruciatingly loud scream as his heart sparked back to life, beating in Dr .Reardon's tired hands. Fully awake and alive a terrified Owen looked down at his split open body, with the doctor's hands plunged deep into his chest. Owen could feel the man holding his heart in his hands. Now this was just too much for poor Owen to take, and the once handsome young man, now blackened and bleeding, from the endless skin graphs, leapt from the table where he fell hard to the blood stained, cold, tile floor where his head hit hard and a deep fracture in his skull let out a loud CRACK! Panic in the operating room ensued as the attending physicians and nurses tried to get the patient back up on the table but they were too late. Owen David had suffered so much, and been so close to life and death that day, it was sad that he should die this way, of a subdoral hematoma, a bleeding of the brain.
Dr.Reardon glared over at Dr.Cullen, his anesthesiologist in the operating room, with outrage, disgust and anger he said to Dr. Cullen "Mark the time of death..," Dr.Reardon paused snapping off his surgical gloves then added "Dr. Cullen! If I were not a surgeon I would punch you in the face!" embarrassed Dr. Cullen said nothing, just noting the time of death 4:02 p.m. as the nurses looked shocked saying nothing, for they well knew Dr. Cullen's reputation as a bad anesthesiologist. This was not his first patient he had lost, and they were all beginning to feel that perhaps Dr.Cullen lacked the skill and talent to have the lives of human beings in his hands. "Now!" Dr. Reardon said in a scolding tone to Michael "I am not looking forward to writing another report about your ineptitude. Now get cleaned up and go notify his family that their loved one is dead! Do you think you can manage that?" Dr. Reardon chided him.
"Yes Doctor." Michael Cullen said with a sigh, knowing this would most likely be the last time he saw the inside of an operating room. He had lost his hospital privileges at Northwestern Medical, his Alma matter, and had been sent packing in disgrace from the University of Chicago Hospital. Ravenswood was his last chance. With this weighing heavily on his mind, Dr. Cullen went to the scrub room cleaning the blood of his dead patient off, dreading the task of notifying another family that 'something went wrong with the anestesia'. He was just happy his parents were no longer alive to see what a failure he had become.
Dr. Cullen felt a rush of panic sweep over him, as a sinking feeling churned in the pit of his stomach, as he stood there motionless by his sedated patients head, thinking 'Oh no, not again.'
The lead surgeon called out to his nurses "We're gonna have to open him up!" The well seasoned physician called for a scalpel and two protractors. Dr. Cullen realized he had given too much Diprivan to Mr.David, as he monitored the patients weakening vital signs. The chest cavity was sliced, then split apart exposing the lungs; which in turn were pulled apart as the surgeon slipped his latex gloved hands down into the blood and gore of the warm body, holding the dying man's heart in the palms of his hands. "I'm starting the cardio-stimulation now, Dr. Cullen mark the time." Dr. Reardon slowly squeezed first right, then left, over and over again to massage the heart into starting again. It was a gruesome and difficult process but it had to be done or the young man, in his early twenties would die, literally in his hands. However Dr. Reardon had sworn an oath and would preform his duties to the best of his abilities for as long as necessary. Dr. Cullen noted the time as 3:27 p.m. 5/16/89, then he watched and waited.
The patient, Owen David, an electrician for G.E., was now, finally, in a place of calm where he felt a deep abiding peace envelope him like a womb. The pain and horror of his last day on Earth a far removed terror from his mind. It had been a rather nice Chicago spring morning, until Owen received a call about a newly installed electrical panel, about the size of a small house, that was smoking, out at the water filtration plant by Olive Park just off Lake Michigan. Owen had gone out to see what the trouble was and he decided to shimmy his way underneath the panel on his back, for there was just enough room for him to slide underneath the smoking mass. Where he determined the painters had done a sloppy job and paint had dripped down into the electrical points. So Owen knew the best thing to do was to just let it burn off so he slid back out. Now, in doing so, he arched his back, just ever so slightly, to squeeze out of the tight crawl space. This is when his belt buckle touched to the metal contact causing him to be electrocuted with 13,800 volts of searing electricity! It took two men, three minutes, with a rope tied around his ankles, to pull Owen out from underneath the panel, which his flesh had been melting to for five minutes. The upper part of his body was as black as charcoal, a white film covering his nearly blind eyes, the frantic men who rescued him sickened by the sight of a charred, living human being, quickly drove him to the nearest Hospital, Ravenswood, with two police escorts, who rushed down the busy streets of Chicago, sirens wailing, trying there best to seek medical attention for one of their fellow citizens, whom they were all sure was doomed to die that day. And the police, and men who rescued Owen, all did a valiant job getting him to the hospital in time, Owen drifting in and out of consciousness in the void of the gulf between the living and the dead where he now found himself. He had a feeling of being lifted up into a soft white light, were he saw three clear, floating beings, almost like jellyfish, Owen thought. Then from out of the peace and comfort and light he saw another being that was dark and ominous and Owen began to feel the sting of pain return once again as the black mass rushed towards him, enveloping him in an infinite darkness.
The patient suddenly opened his eyes and let out the most excruciatingly loud scream as his heart sparked back to life, beating in Dr .Reardon's tired hands. Fully awake and alive a terrified Owen looked down at his split open body, with the doctor's hands plunged deep into his chest. Owen could feel the man holding his heart in his hands. Now this was just too much for poor Owen to take, and the once handsome young man, now blackened and bleeding, from the endless skin graphs, leapt from the table where he fell hard to the blood stained, cold, tile floor where his head hit hard and a deep fracture in his skull let out a loud CRACK! Panic in the operating room ensued as the attending physicians and nurses tried to get the patient back up on the table but they were too late. Owen David had suffered so much, and been so close to life and death that day, it was sad that he should die this way, of a subdoral hematoma, a bleeding of the brain.
Dr.Reardon glared over at Dr.Cullen, his anesthesiologist in the operating room, with outrage, disgust and anger he said to Dr. Cullen "Mark the time of death..," Dr.Reardon paused snapping off his surgical gloves then added "Dr. Cullen! If I were not a surgeon I would punch you in the face!" embarrassed Dr. Cullen said nothing, just noting the time of death 4:02 p.m. as the nurses looked shocked saying nothing, for they well knew Dr. Cullen's reputation as a bad anesthesiologist. This was not his first patient he had lost, and they were all beginning to feel that perhaps Dr.Cullen lacked the skill and talent to have the lives of human beings in his hands. "Now!" Dr. Reardon said in a scolding tone to Michael "I am not looking forward to writing another report about your ineptitude. Now get cleaned up and go notify his family that their loved one is dead! Do you think you can manage that?" Dr. Reardon chided him.
"Yes Doctor." Michael Cullen said with a sigh, knowing this would most likely be the last time he saw the inside of an operating room. He had lost his hospital privileges at Northwestern Medical, his Alma matter, and had been sent packing in disgrace from the University of Chicago Hospital. Ravenswood was his last chance. With this weighing heavily on his mind, Dr. Cullen went to the scrub room cleaning the blood of his dead patient off, dreading the task of notifying another family that 'something went wrong with the anestesia'. He was just happy his parents were no longer alive to see what a failure he had become.
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