Ma'ar considers this. :More lights: 

"If you're sure about that, I can– shit. Sorry!" The intercom beep feels very loud in here. "I need to find out what that is -" 

She doesn't have to wait long, though; it's informing her loudly that CODE BLUE EMERGENCY ROOM TRAUMA BAY ONE. Oh, phew, that's probably just drug rave girl again. Well, not phew exactly, but it's not something ELSE. Probably. 

Ma'ar, startled more by her surface thoughts than the noise per se, twitches against his wrist restraints. (Which he is very tired of. Marian at least would take them off during the day if she was in the room with him.) :Emergency???: 

"Not one you need to worry about." Will he please just go to sleep. "I do have to go, though." Probably a good idea to go check exactly what's going on, over there. And make sure that Nat doesn't try to send them both patients at the exact same time. 

Sequined minidress girl is, in fact, in trauma bay bed TWO. 

Bed one is not technically occupied, yet, because as soon as the yawning night shift care aide helped the newly-arriving paramedics turn the patient to get the slidey board under him, he dropped his heart rate into the 20s and then full-on flatlined for - Nellie actually has no idea how many seconds. At least one entire screen-width on the portable monitor, which is not a sight she was particularly hoping to see tonight. 

And then, of course, about point five seconds after someone actually made it as far as the code blue button, the rhythm came back. Still very slow, in the 30s, but - 

"Yep, I've got a pulse." 

All of that happened fast enough that Emmy didn't manage to disentangle herself from the whole situation in bed two before it was, apparently, over. "Nellie? What the hell?" 

"I don't know what the hell either! He just did like a ten-second pause. Didn't like being turned." To the paramedics, "- has that happened before?" 

     "No?" The young man looks as baffled as she feels. "Or, well, he went brady down into the 20s when we gave him propofol for intubation, but his sats were shit at the time." 

"Well, let's get this over with and at the very least we'll have help if he does it again - three two one and go–" 

They slide the patient across, one of the paramedics supporting his head. 

He's rag-doll limp under the scratchy ambulance blanket and, on the monitor, does another pause, but this one is at most five seconds and the previous spike hasn't quite scrolled off the screen when the next beat comes. 

He looks...honestly incredibly terrible, for someone who was supposedly pulled out of the water seconds after someone noticed he was in distress and never lost his pulse. He's floppy, skin cold to the touch, his lips grey-blue. His hair is still wet. 

"...Jesus. Okay." The report she got was clearly missing something relevant because this is INCREDIBLY YIKES and she was expecting only mild levels of yikes.

Nellie's hands are already working to swap over the monitor, even as half the ER staff pour into the room. "Dr Beckett, are you sorted over there?" 

"I'm not sure I would go far enough to say that!" Emmy calls back. Rave girl was shocked out of V-tach after two minutes of CPR, and they've got a bag of amiodarone going, but the kid keeps hopping in and out of the probably-SVT extremely fast heart rate, and even when she's not doing that she's running at 160 to 170 bpm despite being, at this point, intubated and on propofol. And her blood pressure is currently reading at 208/125. Emmy is very glad she went with her first instinct of NOT giving epinephrine to someone whose entire problem is overdosing on recreational drugs with stimulant action. 

"...Uh, right. Get atropine ready but hold unless he does another pause longer than five seconds. Let's get all the ICU admission bloodwork plus the full tox screen. Other vital signs?" 

"Swapping to our monitor now - last BP was 91/57, sats are...91%. How much O2 is that on?" she adds to the paramedic closest to her. 

     "Uh, he's been on 100% the whole time. The portable vent is crap, though, let's get him on yours ASAP." 

"I'll second that. You been getting anything when you suction him?" 

     "Yeah, lots of junk in there. Frothy white secretions, mostly. Not much of a cough reflex right now so it's hard to tell." 

Nellie makes a face. "How much propofol did you give him, anyway?" 

     "I think -" glance at his colleague, "maybe we gave the whole 100mg in the end - thought it'd take less, he was just lying there, but then he got really combative when we tried it after 50mg." 

"Huh.Yeah, I guess that'd tank his hemodynamics real good. Anyway, he sure doesn't need anything more right now. Oy, you in the pink scrubs, can we get warm blankets over here?" She lifts the horrible ambulance blanket, and then snorts. "Jeez. I was expecting a bathing suit. Not surprise full frontal nudity." 

"Nellie! Hold off on suctioning him until we've got a set of vitals and atropine at the bedside - could be vagal stimulation that's setting off the bradycardic episodes." 

"Huh, yeah, I guess?" Nellie is holding ventilator tubing for the RT and glancing between the two monitors. "...Seriously, if we could just take the average of these guys' vitals, we'd have a perfectly healthy patient."

Emmy giggles and tries to swallow it. "Don't you wish that worked?" 

Nellie isn't listening anymore, because she's glaring at the monitor for Pool Guy, which is now yelling an alarm. "...I don't buy that," she says after a moment. "Monitor thinks he's satting at 69% but the waveform is really dubious, reckon he's just peripherally shut down - oy, you in pink again, can you get me one of the neonatal sat probes for his ear? - Oh, hi, Chantal, s'up?" 

"Just came to see how you were getting along over here. I - wait, sorry, which one of them was the...?" 

"Believe it or not, this fucking dude. Dunno what's going on but Jesus was our report missing something. He's not tolerating being moved at all, which - uh, normally I'd say get him stabilized here first before we bring him down the hall, but I'm a little worried that'll take all night." If it happens at all. To the paramedics, "- oy, did we get a temp on him?" 

"Axillary wasn't picking up, but he's wet." 

That is not a good excuse and Nellie is feeling seriously ticked off. It's never helpful to indulge herself in that, though, so she smiles tightly at them. "Right. Hey, you - orange scrubs, sorry - can you get me the low-temperature thermometer, please. Chantal, how ready are we to ship him over like, right fucking now." 

"Isobel's prepping the room but she was hoping it could wait, she wanted to finish up some stuff first - I'd been assuming we wanted to get miss party girl over first? I think Loren's ready." 

Sigh. Glance over at bed one. "- Yeah, fair, I don't think we want to wait too long on her either. If I get your help we can probably bring both of them down at once?" 

Chantal folds her arms. "Which is exactly what I came over here to tell you not to do. If you can chill out here and hold the fort, we can probably handle him in half an hour?" 

Great. Half an hour stuck in the ER. Exactly what her night needs right now. "Fine. Whatever. If you hear a code over here please send someone, though." 

"Uh, sure, we'll do our best," Chantal mutters distractedly over her shoulder. "Dr Beckett, you're coming with?" 

"Dr Beckett do NOT LEAVE until you've given me orders!"