She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering all the videos she had watched, all the conversations she had overheard. “I’m not going to let another baby die while I stand by and watch,” she told herself, almost in a whisper. Her steps began cautiously
and suddenly became a run. She knew this hospital better than her own house, because in a way it was the place where she had spent the most
time lately. She went through a side door, dodged a hurried nurse, and went down a narrow corridor where the
smell of disinfectant was strongest.
Medical Supplies Area. “I saw it, I saw it,” she repeated mentally, conjuring up the image of the large metal buckets
used for emergency procedures with ice. Her heart was pounding so hard it seemed to betray her presence, but no one noticed
her. To almost everyone, she remained invisible, just another cleaning employee doing her job. Carmen entered a service area
with cold lighting and walls marked by time. Inside were boxes, supply carts, stacks of sheets, and, yes, the metal buckets
.
I can see the hospital’s emergency room
The young woman stopped in front of them like someone who finds a weapon in the middle of a war. She opened a lid and saw the compacted ice glistening
under the fluorescent light. For a moment, doubt gnawed at her courage. What if I’m wrong? What if the image of her younger sister
dead in her arms made everything worse? The answer came immediately. Wrong It’s about doing nothing, she thought. And her hands, though trembling
slightly, acted with determination. She picked up a bucket with both hands, feeling the icy metal bite into her skin, and the weight made her shoulders protest.
“Come on, just a little more,” she murmured, dragging it first and then lifting it with an effort that seemed greater than her own body.
The ice rattled inside, producing a dry, almost threatening sound. She knew from snippets of conversations she’d overheard and
videos she’d
####
obsessively studied, that extreme cold could slow down metabolic processes, giving the body a tiny
chance when all seemed lost. Therapeutic hypothermia, that’s what they called it in the medical documentaries she watched until
the early hours of the morning. It was a desperate idea, yes, but so was the situation.
On the way back to the fourth floor, the hallways seemed longer than ever. She dodged stretchers, staff rushing back and forth, and doors constantly opening and closing. Some people glanced quickly, confused as to what a young cleaning woman was doing
carrying a metal bucket of ice inside a hospital of this caliber, heading toward the restricted areas. “Hey, you!” someone shouted
from afar, but she pretended not to hear. If they stop me now, it’s over, she thought, and quickened her pace, feeling sweat trickle
down her back despite the cold emanating from the bucket.
