Gayle called out. Again. One hour into her first shift and Jena had been called to patient sign-in to triage more than a dozen patients. Thank goodness Jaci had dropped her off two hours early to meet with Mary, review policies and procedures, and familiarize herself with the facility before she’d officially started work. “I’m on my way,” Jena called out, freshening the paper liner on the exam table in room four and stuffing it and a disposable gown into the trashcan. “Everything okay?” Mary, who was supposed to be supervising her closely, asked as she hurried in the opposite direction down the hallway. “Fine. How’s that little boy?” A three-year-old found unresponsive for an undetermined period of time, and rather than call an ambulance the older brother had scooped him up and run, barefoot, through a major intersection, to the urgent care center. Mary shook her head and gave Jena a look that said “not good.”
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