Looking at the trauma bay, I found the room spotlessly clean and fully stocked, and a suffocating sense of foreboding settled in.
Looking at the day shift trauma tech, I found that there had not been a single trauma code in 12 hours, and I could practically see the lights dim as the gathering storm approached.
Wondering when, not if, the onslaught would begin, I moved to wipe down a used set of monitor leads. As I reached for the BP cuff not 5 minutes from when I punched in, I turned over my shoulder to find medics doing compressions on a patient with a blue tinge.
No patch, not even an overage page that a code had arrived - they were just there. I took over compressions as the nurses and docs rushed in, and we went all out for the next 40 minutes. Epi, atropine, defib x 5. Actually managed to get a few organized complexes in between the V-fib and PEA, but ended up having to call it. After cleaning up, I was asked to help move a patient out of his car, and arrived to find that both the outside and inside of the vehicle were completely covered in vomit.
My name is Second Shift, and I am a black cloud.