When the alarm sounds, I know the incoming ambulance will bring a critical. The EMTs burst through the doors only moments later, wheeling a white male, approximately 25-35 years of age. Car accident, blood loss, multiple injuries. I see the smears of red and my training kicks in, the adrenaline taking over. I always get this surge of excitement, knowing that a person's life hangs in the balance. This could go either way, really. Will they pull through after hours of touch and go? Or will their perilous soul end with a long, tired beep and a monotone confirmation of another life—expired.
But it only takes ten seconds, and then I look down and realize this is more than an emergency triage.
This is a matter of existence… I know that death cannot be an option as I look into the unresponsive eyes of none other than Edward Cullen. I know this time is different than all the rest; there is no excitement for me, no satisfaction as I hold this divine creature in my hands.
Will I ever be able to forgive myself if something happens to the man lying below me on the gurney bleeding to death?