While there are quiet times in the ER, anyone with experience knows they don’t last long
“IT looks pretty quiet here,” the newest resident says to me, surveying the sparsely populated ER waiting room. She is all shiny and new, straight from med school, and I feel like it’s been years since I was so untested, so eager, and so clueless. Three years of residency can do that to a girl.
“Don’t say that!” comes the sharp exclamation from behind. I spin around to see Nicole, one of the night nurses, just coming off her shift.
“Say what?” New Resident is confused.
“It’s a thing in the ER,” I explain. “Never says it’s quiet, because soon it won’t be!” The truth? It’s not a superstition, but reality. While there are quiet times in the ER, anyone with experience knows they don’t last long.
It doesn’t.
The ambulance phone line begins to ring just as a frantic man bursts through the front door, a small, still bundle over his shoulder. I barely catch a glimpse of the pale, anxious mother as he begins to speak urgently to the nurse at the desk. The bundle over his shoulder? When I look more closely, I can see a shock of curly red hair blazing against the man’s gray sweater. A toddler.
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