2026
Plexiglass case,
mylar balloon,
pump,
motor controller
Build state:
Conceptual
At some point, they removed the intubation tube. In that window, he told us in a raspy voice that he could hear us. He was still there. Then his breathing began to fail, and I watched the panic move through his eyes. He held my hand tightly while they prepared to reintubate. That was the last time I felt him fully present.
When you sit in an ICU, you spend a lot of time looking at the readout. Oxygen levels. Heart rate. Respiratory rate. Whether his breathing is fighting the machine or working with it. You study the numbers as if the right combination will reveal itself... as if understanding the data will change what the data is telling you. We spent so much time looking at the statistics on the readout when he was right there in front of us.
A silver mylar balloon sits inside a sealed plexiglass case. It inflates and deflates continuously at exactly sixteen breaths per minute. When fully inflated, it presses against all four walls of the case. It fills every available space and then recedes. It does this without stopping.
It is not hope. It is what hope looks like from the outside.