The ambulance sped towards the nearest hospital. They acted quickly, they sent him to the emergency room and started working on him.
I don't know how hospitals work, but I think they evaluate the situation and they start performing surgery.
I waited outside of the operation room, my mind blank.
It played what the doctor just told me in advance.
He has been clinically dead for 10 minutes. I'm not sure.
I have no idea what it meant, but it had the word "dead" in it, so it wasn't something good.
I searched it up: "clinically dead" meant that the patient's heart has physically stopped beating, and is reliant on manual machinery or cpr to maintain blood flow.
10 minutes was a long time. With the cease of blood flow, less and less blood and nutrients will be supplied to the brain, shutting it down.
Soon enough, the patient will be officially dead.
The doctor wasn't lying when they said he wasn't sure. In fact, they were exaggerating. The chance of a "revival" was absolutely minimal.
And even if he was revived, he might suffer from permanent brain defects and organ failures.
I hovered around the outside. My face was probably pale. I clutched my fingers together and I was hoping.
Unconsciously, I was humming softly,
There's no way I wouldn't know
Because you are my breath
Do not feel sorry
It's just like a yawn when it is not enough
"Yawn" by SVT. He was my breath, without a breath, I would die.
I keep yawning and yawning, trying to grasp onto that remaining last breath, and praying.
I didn't know how long it took, and a doctor came out of the operation room.
He is alive. Unsure of long term impacts.
I heard and I collapsed.
I didn't really, I just stumbled but my mind blanked out again. There was hope. I didn't care about long term impacts; I can take care of him, and be his lighthouse.