He clocks in…3 minutes late.
Grabs a redbull from the vending machine right off-the-bat, because he knows this shift is going to be long. When it opens, it explodes all over him and the floor, a foreshadowing of what’s to come. He should’ve called in.
This is usually when the action happens anyways; sometimes it’s dead, sometimes it’s crazy. It’s a toss-up.
There’s nothing to do. He talks with some of the nurses, interns, etc.
“What are you doing for the weekend?”
I don’t know. You?
“May catch a movie.”
He checks his facebook, twitter, news…nothing.
It’s going to be a long shift.
Dispatch goes crazy, and reports that they are getting a cavalcade of victims in a movie-theater shooting.
There is no panic in his mind, only focus. He knows what is about to come, has seen it before, and is fully ready to do whatever it takes.
The first patient is suffering from a gunshot wound to the leg, she’s losing blood at a rapid pace, unconscious, and prepped on the table waiting for him.
He’s fully prepped, not even breaking a sweat, his hands steady.
He looks at her, exhales, looks at his team in the room and asks,
“Where do you think we should start with the wound?”
The other surgeons almost seem amazed that he would even inquire about their opinions. It’s flattering, it’s a chance to finally shine and show what they can do. A young, wide-eyed resident clears his throat and answers the call:
“Stricter gun laws.”
‘The fuck?!! There is hemoraging that won’t be stopped unless we act, and act fast; there is an opportunity here for you to give your advice, now what do you suggest?
“Send pictures of the victims to the NRA, show them what guns do.”
Get out of here. Now.
Get him the fuck out of this hospital.
Can you believe him?
Another surgeon removes her mask and shakes her head at what she just saw. The room is almost in a state of shock. How, at this time, could someone even be thinking something like that with what is going on?
The main surgeon is in disbelief, but his hands aren’t shaken, his mind clear, he is a pro. He looks at the female doctor in the room and asks, “What would you do?”
She is shocked, even taken aback by his question, but is quick to answer with her professional, and medical opinion-
“Everyone in that theater should’ve had a gun, and this would’ve been fine. They could’ve shot back and saved the day.”
Holy fucking lord?!
Are you fucking insane?!
“I blame the Batman.”
What about the victim? The victim, that’s what we are all here for, what the hell are you talking about?! If he gets one more answer like this, he just may shoot himself-
“Please don’t shoot yourself, doctor.”
“I don’t believe that guns should be allowed in public places such as hospitals or libraries, in my honest opinon.”
Fuck my life.
There was one focus, and one focus only: Victims.
Could you imagine if the doctors who were seeing the patients of this crime stopped surgery and debated about what should’ve been done?
They reacted to a situation the way all of us should have…with attention to the victims.
I got out of Dark Knight Rises at 2:55am to see my facebook lit up with people who were ignoring the fact that there were individuals with bullets in them. Every post, every comment, every thread of a CNN, FOX, MSNBC story was filled with hindsight. Ideals.
“Such a tragedy, I hope congress finally passes gun laws that….blah, blah,”
“Such a horrible act of violence, but guns don’t kill people, people kill…blach, blah, bleh.”
How fucking dare you.
-Defending your gun? You’re 1500 miles away, stop it.
-Attacking guns? Posting your ridiculous, recycled, internet-posters stating guns should require a license like driving a car?
All I wanted to do was know how the victims were. Some would live, some would die, what happens to their psyche after an event like that? PTSD?
I had over 35 posts about the event from friends online. ONE of those posts just showed the article; there was no caption, there was no snide comment on gun regulation or deregulation, there was no fucking hindsight.
There was just the story.
There was sadness.
Under the story there was no comment section. There was no way for America to get in their two cents about what needs to be done or what wasn’t done.
There was just the story.
Save us your cyber commentary.
Save us your t-shirt slogan.
That basic story of what happened, and how it went down, and how the families were reacting was amazing. It was just news. It was the best thing I have seen all week, despite the subject.
Stop talking. Stop analyzing.
I just want my scalpel.
Patients will live. That’s the good news.
Surgery is over.
Physical Therapy time now; where doctors will recommend her to keep ice on her wound, keep it elevated, take your meds 3x a day…..and then sue the movie theater.