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MidReal Story
The Asthma Chronicles
Scenario:Make a story about 2 college students a female nerdy glasses wearing respiratory therapist student and a male green mohawk lots of piercings and tattoos in med school to be a respiratory doctor and they are working at the school clinic and they both have severe asthma attacks together while studying and trying being their own doctor's treating each other plus they are girlfriend and boyfriend their names ate Mark and Kelly
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Kelly Thompson
compassionate, and determined. Kelly struggles with severe asthma attacks, which often hinder her daily life. Despite this, she is dedicated to her studies and works at the school clinic alongside her boyfriend Mark. Her relationship with Mark is supportive and loving, as they often help each other through their shared health challenges. Kelly's bond with Mark strengthens as they navigate their medical studies and personal struggles together.
Amanda Carter
observant, and professional. Amanda often assists Kelly and Mark during their asthma attacks by providing medical support and guidance when needed. Her presence offers reassurance to the couple as they navigate their health challenges while pursuing their medical careers.
Mark Johnson
resourceful, and ambitious. Mark has a striking appearance with his green mohawk and numerous piercings and tattoos. He shares a deep connection with his girlfriend Kelly, who also suffers from asthma attacks. Mark supports Kelly through her episodes and relies on her during his own struggles. Together, they work at the school clinic, where they often treat each other's attacks while balancing their demanding studies.
I am a respiratory therapist student at a local college.
My boyfriend, Mark, is in med school to be a respiratory doctor.
We work together at the school clinic.
We both have severe asthma and have attacks at the same time while we are studying and working.
Sometimes we are our own doctors.
My name is Kelly Thompson, and I wear nerdy glasses and have brown hair.
Mark has a green mohawk, lots of piercings, and lots of tattoos.
I was sitting at our kitchen table with my laptop and books open.
I was studying for my last exam of the semester tomorrow.
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
I reached for my inhaler but had to search for it.
I finally found it and took two puffs.
I put it down on the table but still couldn’t catch my breath.
Suddenly, Mark appeared with hispeak flow meter and her spirometer.
He was having an attack also.
We both sat down and took turns using our machines.
Then we listened to each other’s lungs with our stethoscopes.
After checking each other’s oxygen saturation, we realized we needed to go to the hospital.
We called for an ambulance and then called our boss at the school clinic where we work together.
We told Amanda Carter, our nurse friend, that we wouldn’t be at work tomorrow.
We made our way to our bedroom and grabbed our pre-packed emergency bags from under the bed.
I stumbled into the bathroom and gripped the doorframe as my chest tightened.
Mark followed me, wheezing heavily while carrying his peak flow meter.
I couldn’t see anything in my bag, so I just pulled it out and put it on the counter.
Mark sat on the floor of the bathroom with his bag open and started pulling stuff out.
He put his spare inhaler on the counter, then his insurance card, then his phone charger.
I did the same thing.
I checked my medication list, spare nebulizer tubing, and oxygen mask.
The wail of sirens was getting closer.
I leaned against the bathroom counter and gripped my nebulizer.
Mark put the pulse oximeter on my finger one last time.
It read 89% - too low.
He wheezed heavily as he gathered his stuff that had fallen on the floor.
I helped him, and we stuffed everything into our bags.
The sirens were right outside our apartment building.
Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs.
Mark struggled to his feet, using the toilet for support.
His face was pale and sweaty.
I fumbled with my keys, dropping them twice before I could turn the deadbolt.
The door burst open, and the paramedics rushed in.
Two rushed to my side, and a third went to Mark.
A cool plastic oxygen mask was pressed against my face.
I felt them taking my vitals.
I could see through my foggy glasses that they were putting pulse oximeters and blood pressure cuffs on me.
"Oxygen 89%, BP 150/90," one called out as he prepared an albuterol treatment for me.
Mark got the same treatment beside me.
His green mohawk was stark against the white bathroom tile.
The nebulizer mist filled my mask as I gripped the bathroom counter, still struggling to breathe.
Two paramedics positioned themselves on either side of me.
"On three," one said, supporting my back while the other secured the oxygen mask.
They lifted me smoothly onto the stretcher, my nebulizer still humming.
I could see through my blurred vision that Mark was being helped onto a second stretcher beside me.
His green mohawk drooped with sweat.
The paramedics wheeled us through our narrow hallway, medical equipment trailing alongside us.
Our stretchers bumped over the apartment threshold as they maneuvered us toward the waiting ambulances.
"Mark," I gasped, trying to catch his eye as we were wheeled side by side, "did you see the news before this all started?"
He coughed, struggling to speak through the mask, "Yeah, the whole block's being evacuated... something about a chemical leak."
My heart raced as I processed his words, "Do you think that's why we're both like this?"
I watched through my oxygen mask as the paramedics secured our stretchers in the ambulance.
The interior lights illuminated Mark's pale face and the sweat beading on his piercings.
My nebulizer continued humming, and the EMT adjusted my IV line and checked my oxygen levels.
They were up to 87% now.
Mark reached across the small space between our stretchers, his tattooed hand finding mine.
The ambulance lurched forward, sirens blaring.
Through the rear windows, I saw people evacuating our building, some covering their faces with shirts.
My chest tightened further at the sight.
Mark squeezed my hand weakly, his voice barely audible over the sirens, "I think it is... they said it was spreading fast."
I nodded, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the ambulance, "We need to tell them everything we know about what we saw and smelled."
His eyes met mine, determined despite his exhaustion, "Yeah, maybe it'll help them stop it before more people get sick."
I struggled to sit up, pulling the mask aside despite the EMT's protests.
My chest burned as I spoke through ragged breaths, "We work at the school's respiratory clinic... we've been seeing cases of respiratory distress for a few weeks now."
The EMT nodded, typing notes on his tablet as he adjusted my IV line.
"Go on."
I continued, "Patients were reporting chest tightness, difficulty breathing... some had a sweet chemical odor on their clothes. Mark and I were both exposed tonight in our apartment, and it happened fast."
Mark added between labored breaths, "Three cases just yesterday from our apartment complex. We saw them in the clinic. They were all transferred to the hospital."
The EMT nodded, typing more notes.
"Did you see or smell anything else unusual around your building?"
I shook my head weakly, but then something caught my eye through the ambulance window.
Hazmat-suited responders were entering our building.
My hand trembled as I reached for my phone in my pocket, pulling it out to access patient records on our clinic's database.
Maybe if I could help identify the source of the leak...
I propped myself up on my elbows, the oxygen mask fogging my glasses.
The EMT adjusted it, his voice firm but reassuring, "Stay down, you're not out of the woods yet."
I nodded, but my fingers moved quickly over the phone's screen, navigating the database.
Mark leaned over from his stretcher, peering at the screen as I scrolled through recent cases.
"Look," he pointed between breaths from his nebulizer, "three cases from Building C... all reported identical symptoms after visiting the basement laundry room."
I showed the information to the EMT, who radioed it to hazmat teams.
He adjusted my IV line and oxygen mask, speaking calmly, "Keep going. See if you can find any other connections."
I accessed more detailed notes on the patients we'd seen yesterday.
They were all students at our college, living in different buildings around campus.
But they all had one thing in common: they'd visited the basement laundry room in Building C within hours of their symptoms starting. The EMT relayed this information to hazmat teams as I continued searching for more connections.
My phone slipped from my trembling fingers and clattered to the ambulance floor.
The EMT picked it up and handed it back to me.
"Keep going," he said softly.
I nodded, focusing on the screen despite my blurred vision.
I accessed patient records from earlier in the semester, searching for any patterns or clues.
It was slow going with my shaky hands and fogged glasses, but I persisted.