It was the weekend and my E.R. was slammed. After the Great Wolves followed their boy up to surgery, we had two more motor vehicle accidents, a run on intoxicated vagrants, and a family of four convinced they’d contracted Ebola. I got puked on twice, spit on once, and called a string of vile names before I was done. But all of it kept my mind occupied as the hours ticked by. I called up to surgical reception once to check on the Franco kid. He’d made it through surgery. He would live, thank God. Ortho had been called in for his mangled right hand. They could work miracles but I wouldn’t be surprised if his fighting days were over. But he would live to figure something else out for himself and that was all that mattered. I peeled off my scrubs in the nurses’ locker room. Joleen came to join me. She’d missed the excitement since she’d rotated up to pediatrics for the week. But I knew gossip traveled fast in this place and she’d already been well informed about what happened with Dex.
