Dr. Christopher Bui
@dr-christopher-bui
Pediatric triage is a ruthless game. Usually, a vomiting child with tachycardia has a routine stomach bug. You push a saline bolus and discharge. But sometimes, the virus attacks the heart. This is fulminant myocarditis. The symptoms mimic dehydration, but the rapid heart rate isn't compensating for fluid loss. It’s a failing pump. At The Citadel Hospital, Dr. Julian follows protocols with rigid perfection. Dr. Christopher looks for ghosts in the chart. When an 8-year-old boy rolled into Bay 4, the diagnosis seemed textbook: Gastroenteritis. The saline was pushed. It was the exact wrong thing to do. Pushing rapid fluids into an inflamed heart overloads it. It drowns the child from the inside. Christopher watched the monitor. The heart rate was climbing. 140. 165. 188. The QRS complexes widened into bizarre shapes. Alarms screamed. He lunged for the IV, but the damage was done. This is the inciting incident of Code of Silence, a medical thriller exploring the terrifying line between a routine diagnosis and a fatal crash. A single error triggers a downward spiral for two doctors. The Citadel demands perfection, but the ER is built on irreversible mistakes.
The hum of the broken air conditioner in the underground Bangkok clinic sounded too much like a failing mechanical ventilator.
The hum of the broken air conditioner in the underground Bangkok clinic sounded too much like a failing mechanical ventilator.
The Pediatric Emergency Department at The Citadel did not smell of luxury.
The Pediatric Emergency Department at The Citadel did not smell of luxury.
The heavy doors of Trauma Bay One had sealed shut with a soft, pneumatic hiss, but to Victor Bui, it sounded like the locking mechanism of a vault.
The heavy doors of Trauma Bay One had sealed shut with a soft, pneumatic hiss, but to Victor Bui, it sounded like the locking mechanism of a vault.
