|"Yikes..that's going to be a challenging intubation. Get her to a trauma bay!"|
Maybe the artisan who applied the cosmetics did such a good job that it scared the daylights out of Jai or perhaps it was an allergic reaction. Over use of make-up is never a good idea. At any rate, the autonomic storm it prompted was enough to send her to nearby Beaumont Hospital.
As she hit the entry doors to the ER the ever vigilant staff expedited her transfer to a nearby trauma bay. While rituals of ACLS alogorithims danced through their heads a cursory assessment left them flummoxed. Quickly pressing 2 fingers behind the mandible showed a nice regular pulse and an auscultation of her chest revealed the lovely muted swoosh of active gas exchange without rhonchi or rales.
As the apparent acuity of the victim rapidly vamoosed, the trauma team's unconsciously formed tableau dissipated faster than a snowball on the 4th of July. The hollering that ensued from the trauma bay was not the typical shout out for life saving measures. A shriek more akin to that of an elderly matron who had just been scammed out of her monthly Social Security check reverberated about the trauma room. "My God," hollered the duped trauma surgeon. "It's all just make up."
In a public relations gambit the hospital released the following statement: The emergency room is not a place for fun and games. They see many patients with severe medical issues where lives are at stake. doctors and nurses need to be able to focus on those patients with true emergencies.
In a strange torque of therapeutics, I wonder if the young patient was cured of her panic attack by transferring her feelings to the trauma team.