Write a story about a specialized profession you know nothing about. Do no research. Confidently make up all the details.
“We’re losing him.”
I pumped as hard as I could, keeping his heart going with my bare hand. It failed only a minute ago and we had to cut him open so I could keep it running manually while we fixed him up. I checked his chart with my other hand. This could be risky.
“Get him on an epinephrine shot, 500 mg,” I demanded.
“But sir, the mitochondria have yet to — “
“I said do it!”
The nurse fumbled back keeping her pace faster than his heart rate, grabbing at the vial. She expertly injected the syringe and handed me the dose. I shook my head.
“I need to keep pumping his heart with the Yungshui technique. The epinephrine should help to calm his arteries and allow it to get back to working on its own.”
“Why can’t we just swap tasks?” she asked nervously.
“We lose this pulse for even an instant and the blood will clot right there! His eyes will start drowning in blood fleeing from the only orifice it finds. This is not the time to ask questions, just do it!”
She looked down at the syringe and wiped away at a vein on his arm with some alcohol. She shook as the needle approached his skin.
“Hey,” I said, relaxed. She froze. “This goes wrong and we just send him up to surgery for cardio-muscular vascular failure removal syndrome surgery. No biggie. Just trying to stop it from getting that far.” I gestured to him with one hand while continuously pumping with the other.
She nodded and lowered the needle again, only quivering in the slightest while injecting him. I felt his heart outpace my pumps and released my grip from his open chest.
“He’s stable,” I announced. “Come and help me close his ribs back up, okay?”
She pushed on the right side of the rib-cage while I pulled on the left until we heard it go click. She handed me some string and a needle and we got to stitching him up. She wiped the sweat from my brow as we finished the last stitch.
He would be okay, possibly waking up within the hour. I looked up at the nurse triumphantly and nodded my approval.
“Not bad for my first Sympathectomy, huh, Doctor?” she said, beaming.