Condition Critical

Callie bounded up the stairs with Wendy and Angelia right after her. Craig Aguirre, the only male nurse in the health centre, was watching over the soldier lying unconscious on an examination table. The young man’s face was contorted in agony, beads of sweat trickling down his furrowed brow, and his breaths came in desperate gasps beneath the oxygen mask strapped tightly to his face. ‘What do we know?’ Angelia asked Jeannette, who was monitoring the patient’s vitals. ‘Pulse weak, difficulty breathing, and presenting with nausea and vomiting.’ Jeannette’s eyes never left the monitor screen, which tracked the patient’s heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation levels. ‘He’s tachycardic, BP is dropping!’ Jeannette shouted. ‘The oxygen mask is failing!’ The patient started convulsing, his face turning a cyanotic shade of blue. ‘We have to do a cricothyrotomy!’ Angelia said. ‘But we don’t even know what’s the cause yet,’ Callie objected. ‘Knowing the cause won’t help if he’s already