Team 01

Mr. Sutter listens carefully. Once again there is a cry: “Eeelke!” His monitor is still on his rollator walker and Mr. Sutter is in a long corridor with his walker. He does not need the walker to walk; this distinction is important to him. He only needs the walker to carry his monitor. In other words, the walker is not a walking aid for Mr. Sutter, who has always been estimated to be ten years younger by his confirmation candidates, no, not a walking aid, but permission to walk. This monitor is linked to him day and night, without any interruptions. It monitors his pulse, and sounds the alarm if ventricular fibrillation, which is dangerous, begins. Within a few seconds, both nurses and physicians then stand next to him. The nurses filter this characteristic tone, a wild ringing sound, out of the other noise on the ward.

Initially, everything sounded the same to Mr. Sutter. In the meantime he also hears the differences. And knows, that now they are going to dash off, all hell is breaking loose, and perhaps this means life or death. And the staff on duty in the ward fight death for someone’s life. Sounds pathetic? Mr. Sutter is able to be pathetic by virtue of his occupation. Now he remains calm. Just as his eldest son is always telling him to do.

In the “monitoring area” – a room for nurses in the middle of the corridor, the screens flicker with all of the signals from the patients. Green spiky pulse signals, occasional flashing mysterious notices: CPT or AIVR. He now knows what these abbreviations mean. CPT, for example, means that the heart is briefly beating abnormally fast. These green lines also come together in the physician’s office. If worst comes to worst, they reach him in only a few seconds: Nurse Bianca or Andrea, mostly both and Brigitte as well, and the physicians, Lukas or Mr. Schotthelm.

A few seconds and he is saved. Because they know how to bring you back to life.