Resuscitation Read Online Free PDF Page A

Genevieve as an ordinary patient. Although unwillingly, she was now a fundamental first step in his research. The data he had collected before all desperate attempts to resuscitate her failed, made it painfully obvious that the answers he sought could only come from live subjects. He had to indisputably prove to the Global A-Fib Foundation that the success rate to eradicate atrial fibrillation by modifying both catheter ablation and the Maze III procedures could be as high as 95 percent. He had feared from the onset of this project that controlled test studies and working with cadavers would never yield the data he needed to complete his research. Genevieve now confirmed his theory.
    In a dreamlike state, Julian walked in the kitchen, shaky and uneasy. He stood behind his wife, who was standing at the counter cutting an apple. He kissed Nicole on the neck, more obligatory than purposeful. She turned and looked at him.
    “Lord,” Nicole said, “you’re as white as a ghost. Are you feeling ill?”
    “Just a touch of the flu.”
    “And you’re kissing me? Stay the hell away from the girls. The last thing I need is a couple of sickly kids.”
    “Sorry,” he said. Lately, it seemed that “sorry” was the most overused word in his vocabulary. At least with Nicole.
    “I have to ask you something,” Nicole said. “This is a touchy subject, I know, but how would you feel about turning over the A-Fib project to one of your colleagues?”
    “Are you kidding me?”
    “I really want you to consider it.”
    “Do you have any idea how humiliated I’d be in front of the entire medical community?”
    “What’s more important, your precious ego or your family?”
    Julian wanted his motivation to be humanitarian; he wished that a desire to save the world drove him. But in truth, helping to eradicate A-Fib worldwide was merely a fringe benefit. No, as much as it prickled his conscience, this research project was totally about him: the fame, the recognition, seeing his photo on the cover of the American Journal of Medicine , and maybe even earning a prestigious nomination for the Nobel Prize in Medicine. Oh, how he hungered for the admiration and prestige.
    “You want me to flush two years of busting my ass down the toilet? Working twelve-hour days. Not taking any vacations—not even a three-day weekend in Big Bear. How would I feel about giving up? Are you shitting me? I’m almost there and you want me to abandon ship?”
    “So the rejection letter from the Global A-Fib Foundation hasn’t discouraged you?”
    “Of course it did. It knocked the feathers right out of me. But it also gave me hope and made me realize that I’m this close.” He held up his hand and gestured with his thumb and index finger.
    “Hey, Julian, it’s your career. Do whatever you think is right. To hell with me and to hell with the girls. But if you’re looking for support from me? I’ve got two words for you. And they ain’t Merry Christmas.”
     
     
    At 4:35 a.m., Al pulled into the parking lot near the Tourist Information Center at Mission Bay Park. The area buzzed with activity. Red beacons flashing, yellow tape everywhere, cameras lighting up the landscape, detectives milling about, and the forensic staff huddled around what Al assumed would be a dead body. He even spotted a news van sitting in the corner of the parking lot with its satellite dish reaching for the stars. How did they hear about this homicide so quickly? he wondered. The morning air still hung on to its late-spring bite. The reflection of the full moon danced on the bay.
    Al slid out of his car and headed for Captain Davidson, easy to single out among the dozen or so worker bees. Who else would be dressed in a suit with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other this early in the morning? Seeing the captain on the scene surprised Al. Davidson usually worked the privileged nine-to-five gig. So, seeing him milling about at a crime scene before sunrise