The Beginning
The hum of St. Mary's City Hospital was at once familiar and foreboding to Dr. Emily Carson. It had been some years of tough medical training; at last, she was beginning to live the life she envisioned as an attending doctor. Reality, though, had a way of pleasantly presenting itself as something else entirely—and something that would ask more than she could give, piles of emotional fortitude she wasn't sure she had.
As Emily made her way through the twisting corridors of the hospital, she was assailed by the beeping of monitors, the snatches of clipped conversations from nurses, and a sense of urgency that seemed almost veritably palpable in the air. She'd dreamed about this: being in the thick of it all, where every decision counted and she could really make a difference. Now, standing in the midst of this wild hospital, the weight of her responsibility pressed heavily on her mind.
She glanced down at the tablet in her hand, where the list of patients for the day's work stood, laid out in cold, clinical text. The names became a blur as her fingers moved across the screen, representing a life, a story, a person, each one depending on her for some kind of care. For her, however, they were just cases at this exact moment—challenges to be executed with precision and efficiency. She realised it was a coping mechanism, a way to maintain distance—a distance that kept her safe when things were like this.
She walked down the corridor and noticed her echoing footsteps that led to an assignment in the oncology ward for her first rotation. The battle against cancer, fought in this ward, using all the available artillery of modern medicine, was so very often lost. Emily knew this and had prepared her heart with steel for the coming sorrow, inevitable when work accompanied such as this, still her chest had a tightness from the tension that underlaid it.
The head nurse, Margaret, was one seasoned professional who had quite a reputation— albeit in medical parlance—of being both competent and compassionate. Her presence, however, was reassuring; it was one of those times her calm contrasted with the harried energy surrounding them.
"Dr. Carson," Margaret greeted her, the steadiness of her voice juxtaposing the warmth in her tone. "Welcome to the oncology ward. I trust you're ready for a busy day."
Emily nodded, offering a polite smile.
"Thank you, Nurse Margaret. I'm ready to get started."
Margaret handed her a tablet with a list of patients and a quick rundown of their conditions. "You'll be seeing Mrs. Thompson first. Room three one two. She's in the advanced stages of cancer: metastatic no longer responding to treatment. She's been here for a few weeks now, mostly palliative care at this point.
Emily quickly scanned the information, her mind already switching into problem-solving mode. "Anything specific I should know?"
Margaret hesitated for a second and then her face softened. "Mrs. Thompson is… different. She's very aware of her condition and has come to terms with it, but she's lonely. She doesn't have family visiting her on a regular basis. Just be prepared that she might want to talk. It's more about comfort now than anything else.
Emily absorbed the information but her focus remained on what was practical in the care. "I'll see to it that she is comfortable," she replied with a neutral tone of voice.
Margaret looked at her, as if she was debating over something more to say, before nodding and turning away to her next task. Emily turned into Room 312, away to her next steps: pain management, medications readjustments, and eye out for any signs of distress.