Even Dr. Everythingwillbealright needs a little help sometimes. Still short-staffed with yours truly acting as Medical Assistant, Shawn was on his own when a patient walked in barley breathing. He took his pulse, his blood pressure, his oxygen level and things weren't looking good. Said something about a heart rate of 30. I have no idea what that means, but when he asked me to take the patient to the back room for an EKG and it took they guy five attempts just to stand up, I knew he was in trouble. With no training and no experience, Shawn figured out how to work the EKG machine and hooked up Mr. No Heart Rate. The next few minutes were a blur, but they included calling 911, hearing sirens several seconds later, holding the office door open as at least eight smiling, calm, competent manly men came down my corridor and shuffled into our procedure room, taking over with such precision and teamwork all I could do was stare in awe. Good government in action. Taxpayer dollars well spent. Made me feel safe, somehow. Stabilized, my new BFFs rolled Mr. We Just Saved Your Life, Buster, out to the lit up ambulance and tucked him in across the street at the hospital. Dr. Everythinwillbealright monitored the next few days' activities which included bypasses and stents and a pacemaker. Seems like we're all breathing a bit easier now.
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