Chapter 6 - The Shattered Glass
I stared up at the frantic nurse from the floor, my vision entirely blurred by heavy tears.
"What are you talking about?" I choked out, my voice raw and broken.
The nurse didn't even look down at me as she hastily plugged the massive machine into the wall outlet.
"This is an experimental ECMO machine," she yelled through the intercom to the bewildered surgical team.
"It can temporarily pump and oxygenate blood outside of her body, completely bypassing her failing heart and lungs."
The lead surgeon shook his head firmly from inside the operating room.
"We can't authorize experimental bypass on a patient who has already clinically expired," he argued back.
"Besides, we don't have a matching blood supply large enough to prime the machine's external reservoir."
The nurse slammed her hand against the observation window, glaring fiercely at the senior surgeon.
"Yes, you do," she shouted triumphantly, pointing a shaking finger directly at me.
"Ethan has the exact rare O-negative antibody profile required, and he just signed a blanket medical consent waiver ten minutes ago."
The surgeon looked at me through the glass, his eyes wide with a mixture of hope and deep hesitation.
"Hooking him up to prime this machine will drain massive amounts of his blood in minutes," the surgeon warned.
"He could easily go into hypovolemic shock and die right here on the floor."
I didn't hesitate for a single fraction of a second.
I scrambled to my feet and ripped off my suit jacket, practically tearing the buttons off my shirt.
"Take whatever you need!" I screamed, offering my bare arm to the frantic ICU nurse.
"Drain every single drop of blood I have if it brings her back to me!"
The nurse immediately tied a rubber tourniquet around my bicep and pulled out a massive, terrifyingly thick needle.
"This is going to hurt," she warned me gently, her hands moving with lightning speed.
"Do it," I commanded without a trace of fear.
She plunged the needle deep into my vein, and I watched my dark red blood begin to rush through the clear plastic tubing.
The blood flowed rapidly into the ECMO machine, filling the mechanical reservoir with a strange, humming mechanical sound.
I felt instantly dizzy, the room spinning violently as my blood pressure plummeted from the rapid fluid loss.
"The machine is primed!" the nurse yelled, smashing the green activation button on the console.
Through the glass, the surgical team frantically connected the other end of the thick tubing directly into the major arteries of Sophie's neck.
The machine roared to life, violently pumping my warm, oxygenated blood directly into her lifeless body.
We all stood in absolute, terrifying silence, watching the monitor.
One second passed.
Then five seconds.
Then ten seconds.
The monitor remained stubbornly, brutally flat.
"It's not working," the surgeon whispered, lowering his head in defeat.
Suddenly, a loud, sharp wail echoed from the far corner of the operating room.
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It wasn't a machine.
It was the unmistakable, glorious sound of our newborn son crying for the very first time.
