They told the ER nurse to move aside for the real doctors, then the

Ninety seconds later, a donor at table three, a silver-haired man in a tuxedo, clutched his chest and slid sideways into the centerpiece. His wife screamed. Prescott froze with a champagne flute halfway to his mouth. One of the laughing residents shouted for a doctor, then looked directly at Prescott, who took a full step back from the body like it might stain his cummerbund. I was already moving. I cleared the table with one sweep of my arm, silverware ringing across the marble, and got the donor flat on the floor. No pulse. I started compressions, counted out loud, and told the nearest waiter to run for the AED in the lobby. Prescott finally found his voice and said, ma’am, please, let a physician handle this. I did not look up. I said, I am handling it, and I need you to either help me or step back. The AED arrived. I cut the tuxedo shirt open, placed the pads, delivered one shock, kept going. On the second round of compressions his color came back and he gasped. The room was silent except for my counting. That was when the hospital CEO walked in late, saw me on the floor, and said loud enough for every table to hear, thank God you were here, Dr. Ortiz. Prescott’s champagne flute finally hit the ground. I stood up, wiped my hands on my scrubs, and pulled the lanyard out from under my collar so he could read it. Chief of Emergency Medicine. Board Member. Keynote Speaker. I looked at Prescott and said, you were right about one thing tonight. I should not touch anything with a price tag on it. That is why I touch people instead. Then I asked his wife to please move so the paramedics could get through.