NICK
The afternoon at the hospital did what afternoons at hospitals always do. It refused to stop.
The building was a machine that ran on a continuous cycle of crisis and routine, and I was just one of the gears kept in perpetual motion.
I moved through my rounds. I handled the consults. I performed two post-op checks that required my full attention.
There was a resident who needed a sharp correction on a basic procedure, and a stack of charts that sat on my desk like a threat.
The calls from other departments were constant.
I preferred it this way. Continuous movement leaves no gaps in the day. Gaps are dangerous things.
Gaps are the places where thoughts manage to take root and grow when you aren't looking.
My body began to register the cost of the last few days.
A dull pressure formed behind my eyes. It wasn't a sharp pain yet, just a heavy, present reminder that I was running on a deficit.
