I’m pulling on my last elbow’s displaced wrist when a nurse pops in, and tells us a critical patient is two minutes away.
“Mind staying?” my colleague asks.
“Sure.”
Paramedics are hunched over the patient as she is wheeled quickly into the resuscitation bay. At the top of the bed, a mask is secured over her mouth and oxygen is pumped with loosely gloved hands. It isn’t helping — her skin is grey — like the clay you hit when you’ve dug too far in your backyard.
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