Leomom stood at the edge of a cliff in the Andes
and looked as her backpack was falling into the precipice.
All her belongings were there, and they bounced off subsequent rock shelves faster and faster, becoming smaller and smaller and more and more lost. However, there was something that seemed to worry her even more than the lack of any kind of equipment in such extreme conditions. Something was wrong. And it wasn’t about the backpack
She woke up. The room was dark and quiet. She thought for a moment, and then the horrifying fact finally sank in: she couldn’t hear the ventilator whistling. It’s off! She looked at the pulse oxymeter. It wasn’t working!!!! She looked at the crib: Leo was lying completely still on his back. She screamed and ran to turn the pulse oxymeter on. Leodad woke up.
– Turn on the light! – He shouted. She rushed toward the switch. She was afraid to press it. She pressed. After a moment, the pulse oxymeter displayed the saturation number – 90.
Leo was sleeping on his back, disconnected from the ventilator, with rosy cheeks.
The failure must have happened a few, maybe tens of seconds earlier.
But what had happened? Why did both machines stop working? Could it be that Leo had reached to the ventilator himself and turned it off? Who turned off the pulse oxymeter? Leo wouldn’t have reached it. Did one of Leoparents did it in their sleep? And the worst question of all: What if Leomom had woken up 5, 10, 15, 20 minutes later?