Her skin turns a pasty gray as her oxygen level falls. Her brain is forgetting how to breathe. If I give her sedation and put a tube down her trachea to breathe for her, I will not know whether she is seizing. But if I do not, well, she may just stop breathing forever. It’s a catch-22, a rock and a hard place, a lose-lose bet with a stacked deck in the casino of the Titanic as it careens into an iceberg.
