Author: Raj Waghmare

I’m ten minutes late by the time I stroll into the ER, black coffee in hand. Osler*, my cynical ER Flow Navigator, slaps a sticker

Triage Note: Fish hook in eye. No bleeding. Tetanus up to date. It’s a sunny weekend during cottage season. A young woman is rushed into

Twenty-four year old J.P. Tyler is as pale as his white t-shirt that’s two sizes too big. He’s lying on his back – moaning –

It’s 1 a.m, and I’m afraid this guy is going to die. He’s gasping for air, hunched over a table as I poke his chubby back and

I carried it around with me the entire shift. I showed it to my E.R. colleagues, the internists, and even a couple of surgeons. I’d

The nurse at triage can feel her heart race as Madison raises her shirt and shows the splotches around her thin waist. She calls another