Marian shows DZ where the oxygen hookup on the wall is, and how to change the flow rate, and the sealed plastic bags of oxygen-mask and nasal-cannula tubing. She can also get a full portable oxygen tank on a little wheeled frame, in case Deskyl wants that for walking around. 

DZ translates this as Marian explains it, of course.

Deskyl doesn't need the portable tank; as long as she's awake she can handle the problem magically.

"Oh good. Uh, I'm going to go see if the pod over there needs help - DZ, you can come find me if you need anything?" 

"Yes ma'am."

Deskyl and DZ go back to their room, too.

It takes about an hour of nagging other nurses, who are in Marian's opinion being way too slow on the uptake about how no actually their patients are miraculously fine now and they don't have to understand it but they should act like it. But eventually, she heads back to DZ and reports, proudly, that everyone is off life support machinery and sedative drugs and it should be fine if Deskyl stops whatever it is she's doing to make that work out fine. 

Coma guy in 114 is also off the ventilator. He's blinking at the ceiling and occasionally yawning at random. 

Deskyl has already noticed, of course, and is waiting with DZ by the nursing station when she comes back, looking pleased.

    "Master Deskyl is going for a walk now, ma'am; she wants to know if there's anything we should know about the area, and if there's something we should do if we're questioned on our way in or out."

"Umm." Explaining the layout of the hospital sounds hard; it's pretty confusing in a few places. "...I can maybe just come with you? Uh, you're kind of my only patient, now, and they were talking about having me finish my shift early."

The unit is rapidly emptying out; Elaine's tattoo gunshot wound guy just signed himself out of hospital, and Leg Lifts Lady is currently just waiting on her son driving over with a set of normal clothes. Coma Dude isn't going anywhere, but he's also not exactly a complicated patient to take care of, all he needs is turns and tube feed changes. 

    "That sounds fine, ma'am."

Deskyl is apparently not inclined to hang around and discuss it; she sets off, evidencing very little sign that she's never walked through this building before.

Marian follows. Swiping herself out as they cross through the main doors, because this really doesn't feel like it should count as 'work'; she was planning to stick around until seven-thirty anyway, Alice is going to hold her to those tequila shots and An Explanation and also it'll get her a ride home. 

They're passing the coffee shop and nearly at the doors when the intercom beeps loudly. 

"Code blue. Code blue, third floor, med-surg, room 321. Code blue, third floor..." 

Gaaaaaah Marian thought she was done work. 

Deskyl has already noticed, before the intercom comes to life at all; she pauses, looking up toward the surgical room in question, and hisses gently under her breath, flinching as she has to visibly restrain herself from heading off in that direction.

"I should - shit, sorry, I said I'd– I should go, I was on code pager duty -" 

Marian takes off at a jog. 

Deskyl follows, not waiting for the translation.

Marian doesn't have the override card for the elevator on her, so she takes the stairs, three at a time. 

There are already what feels like a dozen people in the room when she reaches it, but they're all med/surg floor nurses, and panicking. Someone's managed to wedge the crash cart in the doorway. 

"- I need to get past - just a second - let her through she can help–" Marian is not going to try to say the sentence 'she has magic healing powers' out loud, for one because Deskyl doesn't like it and two because they'll think she's lost her mind. 

The patient is a very overweight elderly man; based on the dressing on his leg, he's recovering from a knee replacement. He's limp on the bed and his colour is not reassuring at all. One of the floor nurses is doing chest compressions; someone else is fumbling with the ambu bag tubing. 

Deskyl wedges her way in, still hissing under her breath, and puts a hand on his chest - she can't do healing, in this mindstate, but telekinetic CPR is going to be much more effective than the regular kind at least.

What's wrong with him, aside from the obvious?

His heart is fibrillating. This is probably thanks to a combination of some existing heart disease - he would have been a couple of years at most away from a major heart attack - plus the large clot, probably from his operated-on leg, but which has just wiggled loose, made its way to his lungs, and lodged there. It's preventing the oxygen being pumped into his lungs by a panicked nurse from reaching his bloodstream that effectively, and the additional pressure of blood backing up in the pulmonary artery is putting intense strain on his right ventricle. 

The patient's existing IV looks incredibly sketchy and is only a 22G, and no one is working on another, so Marian yanks open that drawer of the crash cart, dumps supplies at the foot of the bed, and gets to work on that. 

Well, the clot's - not easily, but straightforwardly at least, taken care of; this kind of fine work is exactly what she's spent all that time embroidering for. She breaks it up and sends it on its way, with half her attention still on shoring up his heart and keeping his blood flowing as well as it can as she does so.

The other nurses are really confused about how Deskyl is doing such effective CPR without, apparently, actually doing full compressions, but the man has a palpable pulse so clearly it's working and no one's going to object. 

Marian gets a working IV in and rams in a syringe of epinephrine, which in combination with the oxygen now reaching the man's blood, should get his heart muscle in better working order. 

It's not by itself shaking the electrical-signals-gone-wild back into a normal pattern, though, and one of the other nurses is trying to reach around Deskyl's hands to slap on the sticky defibrillator pads. 

"You need to back off a second," Marian says, before remembering that Deskyl doesn't actually speak English, and then trying to get her attention by waving and mime that she has to stop touching the patient. 

She's a little distracted by the epinephrine on top of everything else - what a collection of unpleasant side effects that has, or rather would have - but Marian's waving gets her attention and she backs off; it only takes a little more concentration to continue managing his heart from a foot and a half away.

"Everyone clear?" the nurse managing the defib yells, waits for confirmation, and then ZAP. 

There's a pause while everyone hovers. 

The patient's heart twitches, then settles obediently back into a regular rhythm. 

Marian checks for a pulse, then cheers. "We got it! ...Don't think he's breathing on his own, keep bagging him." 

This is the point at which a very harried ED resident arrives. "- Where're we at, people?" 

      "We've got a pulse!" 

"Anyone know what happened?" 

     "Where's his nurse?" 

"Uh, here - I don't know, he rang to say he wasn't feeling good and then - just sort of collapsed..." Unfortunately, no one except for Deskyl has any idea about the blood clot.