They hit the emergency room like dust devils kicking up prairie straw: a patient upright, gasping on a stretcher, flanked by two hustling paramedics.
Doctor, he looked awful. Sprawled on the basketball court. Fighting for breath, the first medic panted.
The second jumped in, And, man, was that other guy huge-- 220, at least. Flew up for a basket and slammed his knee into Mr. Welch’s chest. Pow. He socked his left palm.
Two nurses closed in to take vital signs. Mr. Welch did indeed look awful: mouth gaping, chest heaving, body wet with a slick, clammy sweat. My instant diagnosis was tension pneumothorax. A severe blow to the chest, or thorax, may collapse a lung and sometimes tear it. Air can rush through the punctured lung, fill the chest cavity, and quickly cut off blood returning to the heart.
Mr. Welch, can you talk?
