𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐀
"His lungs are in collapse, we need a compressor!" the head medic urged, his hands flying to adjust the equipment.
I watched in horror as they pried his mouth open even as his body racked terrifyingly on the bed. A tube was shoved down his throat while another medic pulled old IV lines out of his body to rapidly replace them with new ones. Others monitored his vitals through the screen, whose shrill, continuous beeping was like fuel to the fire of chaos surrounding my father.
I attempted to move closer, thinking maybe I could hold his hand to ground him—to anchor him in the storm currently engulfing him. "Dad…" I whispered, but a medic caught my shoulder and ordered me back.
"Please…" I begged, but they acted as if I weren't even speaking until I got too close.
Helplessness gnawed painfully at me. "Are you sure I can't heal him?" I tried to ask.
