My shifts at Mercy General Hospital usually lasted twelve hours and involved high pressure situations that my family could never imagine. Dr. Silas Vance, the head surgeon, had given me an award for excellence that I kept hidden in my locker because I knew my family would just mock it.
“That is sweet, do they give real awards to people who aren’t doctors?” Felicity had asked the one time I mentioned my work. Monica had laughed from the kitchen while Kenneth said nothing, so I stopped trying to share my life with them.
The biggest case of my career happened three years ago when a massive pileup occurred on Highway 70 during a thunderstorm. I was driving home from a double shift and found a man pinned inside a luxury sedan that was crushed like a soda can.
I spent forty seven minutes in the mud and rain holding his head still and talking to him so he would stay conscious. I told him about my mother’s old earrings just to keep him focused on something other than the pain in his chest.