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Show 383 "What happened?" I am asking. Flo will tell me in words I can understand. If only my mind would clear so I could understand English better. "Hypovolemia," she is saying. I am shaking my head. "Not enough blood volume in your body," she is translating. Blood was still exiting my body into the machine but, with the graft suddenly clotted off, not returning. "It's nice to know that my CPR skills are still intact, though" she adds. Her mock pride somehow lightens the moment. "CPR?" I ask. "Your tech coded you and I started the CPR because I was the first one in here," she is saying and I can almost picture her sprinting to my room, rapidly assessing the situation, tearing back the sheets, thumping my chest hard with her fist and, receiving no complaint from my technically dead self at that invasion, proceeding with the chest compressions. That's why it hurts to breathe, I am thinking, more clearly now. My sternum is broken. The next nurse in the door immediately after Flo would have begun the oxygen, and I now notice the familiar blue bag hanging askew on a hook above my bed. Tears are coming into my eyes but it is not because ofthe pain in my chest. |