Gassed to death

Jack was only twenty‑two when he arrived at the hospital for what was meant to be a routine surgery, the kind people walk into with nerves but not fear. As the anesthesia pulled him under, the room settled into its familiar rhythm—steady, controlled, precise. But then that rhythm faltered. The team moved to secure his airway, only to realise they were seconds too late. Jack’s breaths slipped away, his chest falling still as a sudden hush swept through the theatre. In an instant, nurses rushed in, urgency crackling through the air as they fought to bring him back. Commands echoed, hands moved fast, and the bright lights seemed to hold their breath. Whether Jack would pull through remained painfully uncertain, his future balanced on the edge of a moment no one had expected.