Chapter 3: Perfect Emergency Airway
"Stop talking, we're losing her! Now is not the time to debate my qualifications!"
But even after hearing David say this, Chase still held the cric kit tightly with no intention of handing it over.
Seeing this standoff, Cameron snatched the kit from Chase's hands and placed it in David's, then said firmly:
"If you don't trust him, at least trust House.
House said to give him a chance, so I'm choosing to believe in that judgment!"
Chase shrugged:
"I was just going to say it would be safer if I did it. I hope our intern's hands don't shake."
David's mouth curved slightly. Having already watched doctors use various instruments to open his own skull in his previous life, how could he be afraid of performing surgery now?
Besides, this body had belonged to a properly trained medical student.
David snapped on sterile gloves and grabbed an alcohol prep pad to disinfect Rebecca's neck.
Then he took a scalpel in one hand while using his other hand to stabilize the skin over the cricothyroid membrane.
The sharp blade easily made a horizontal incision, and dark red blood immediately welled up from the wound.
Behind him, Chase and Foreman, who were observing with their arms crossed, exchanged knowing glances—both with hints of smugness in their eyes.
Generally speaking, after an intern makes their first incision and actually sees blood, their hands will involuntarily start trembling.
And then this intern would have to accurately locate the cricothyroid membrane while their vision was obscured by blood.
Without experience, this wasn't easy and could cause a novice to panic and call for help.
So both of them were waiting for exactly that moment.
Ready to knock David down a peg or two.
Honestly, if it weren't for HIPAA regulations, they would've wanted to record this with their phones.
After their brief exchange of looks, the two turned back to watch David's tense procedure.
However, facing the flowing blood, David's hands didn't shake at all.
After firmly and quickly making an incision large enough to insert the airway tube, he took the curved hemostats Cameron handed him and, without hesitation, inserted them through the blood to precisely puncture the cricothyroid membrane.
Then, ignoring the continuous bleeding, he dilated the opening and used suction to clear the pooled blood from the airway.
Finally, he inserted the tracheostomy tube and secured it in place.
His expression remained completely calm throughout the entire procedure.
Seeing this, Chase and Foreman exchanged glances again. This time there was no smugness in their eyes, only genuine surprise.
David's technique was so proficient he didn't seem like an intern at all.
Even Chase, who was the team's surgical specialist, had to admit that even if he'd performed the cricothyrotomy himself, he might not have done it any better than David just had.
David, holding the tube steady with both hands, looked toward Cameron.
Understanding immediately, Cameron picked up the bag-valve mask and began rhythmic compressions.
With a continuous supply of fresh oxygen entering Rebecca's airway, she quickly regained consciousness.
Seeing this, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Especially David.
Don't be fooled by how calm he'd appeared during the procedure.
In reality, he'd been more nervous than anyone.
Because this didn't just concern Rebecca's life—it concerned his own!
After successfully pulling Rebecca back from death's door, his dwindling lifespan finally gained another day.
[Successfully saved a life. Lifespan extended by one day. Current lifespan: 1 day, 10 hours.]
Hearing the system notification, David felt his stomach drop.
So if he hadn't saved someone just now, he would only have had 10 hours left to live?
That was cutting it way too close!
"David? David? Earth to David?"
Suddenly, a hand waving in front of his face snapped him out of his thoughts.
David blinked. It was Cameron, who had already secured the external airway with medical tape.
David smiled. Obviously, he couldn't tell her he was literally about to die.
"Sorry, I was just thinking about whether her contrast allergy might be related to vasculitis."
Cameron tilted her head thoughtfully:
"Hmm, there's a possibility. But speaking of which—how did you know she might be allergic to the contrast agent in the first place?"
David had anticipated this question and had his answer ready:
"Because everybody lies—even when they don't mean to. As a doctor, you have to consider more possibilities than what the patient tells you."
Cameron looked genuinely surprised:
"That's House's line. You sound just like him."
David smiled slightly and nodded:
"Yeah, I'm a fan. That's actually why I applied for my internship at Princeton-Plainsboro."
Cameron shook her head with a wry smile:
"House doesn't want fans. He wants exceptionally capable people working for him. And clearly, you've shown you have that talent."
"Oh yeah? Well, what I want isn't to become his fellow. I want to become a better diagnostician than him."
"Then you've got a very long road ahead of you."
"Maybe not as long as you think."
Just as the two walked out of the Imaging Department, they found House leaning against the wall, his cane propped beside him, having just dry-swallowed a couple of Vicodin.
As soon as House spotted them, his gaze zeroed in on David. He raised an eyebrow mockingly:
"Well, well. I heard our prodigy just performed an emergency cric as the primary surgeon. How'd it feel? Get an adrenaline rush?"
David chuckled:
"Didn't feel much of anything. Like drinking a glass of water."
"Tsk. I think your skills are wasted on scut work. How about you cover my clinic duty for a while?
I've been down there for two hours and I can feel my soul dying."
Clinic duty?
That was actually a good place to accumulate life-saving experience.
David nodded:
"Sure, but what about this patient—"
Before David could finish, House interrupted:
"I've already made the diagnosis. Start her on steroids. High-dose dexamethasone."
David frowned. He knew House was wrong this time and tried to warn him:
"That's an anti-inflammatory. So you're confirming she has vasculitis?
Sure, the contrast allergy could be related to vasculitis.
But vasculitis is just as rare as a brain tumor in someone her age.
Confirming it without a brain biopsy is premature.
What if she has neurocysticercosis? Using steroids could accelerate the deterioration dramatically."
"Hey—elevated ESR, MRI findings, and clinical presentation all match vasculitis perfectly.
That's enough evidence to support a trial treatment. And if I'm wrong, wouldn't that just confirm it's neurocysticercosis instead?
That's it. Start the treatment."
House, as the head of Diagnostic Medicine, had final authority.
Even Cameron clearly didn't support House's approach, but she reluctantly followed orders.
Only David knew this would accelerate Rebecca's decline toward death.
But thankfully, as long as he was around, everything could still be saved.
"Hey, hotshot! What are you spacing out for? Let's go—clinic's waiting!"
House, who had already walked to the elevator, stopped and called back to the distracted David.
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