Bound by the Waves

Chapter 12: Busy

The first day at Aramora's hospital was nothing short of intense. The moment we stepped through the entrance, a wave of energy hit me—a mixture of buzzing anticipation and the hum of people already deep in the throes of their tasks.

Kate and Ella were quickly assigned to the triage area, where they sifted through a steady stream of patients with urgent needs, barely having a moment to catch their breath. I watched them dive in with determination, Kate’s usual enthusiasm tempered by the demands of her new role, while Ella moved with a calm confidence that seemed to surprise even her.

Just down the hall, Xaviel was in his element, handling his cases with the same precision and unflappable focus I remembered from med school. There was a constant flow of patients to his examination room, and he handled each one with a steadiness that made him almost seem as though he’d been doing this for years. Occasionally, I’d catch a glimpse of him through the door as he worked, and each time, I had to remind myself to focus on my own patients.

My own station was already filled with patients needing everything from stitches to scans. Each case was a stark reminder of the challenges we’d face here. With every hour that passed, the initial excitement was overtaken by the sheer weight of our responsibility. These patients relied on us, and for the next nine months, this hospital and everyone in it would become our world.

Somewhere in the chaos, Mateo popped up to check on his assignments. True to form, he managed to knock over a small stack of paperwork in the process, prompting a few chuckles from the staff nearby. He took it all in stride, flashing a grin and diving back into his work with an eagerness that balanced out his clumsy moments.

As the morning slipped into afternoon, we finally managed to take a breather. The cafeteria was a modest space, but right now, it felt like an oasis. Kate, Ella, and I gathered at one of the small tables, grabbing a quick meal between shifts. Mateo joined us, looking both exhausted and eager to share a funny story about a patient who had confused him for the doctor multiple times in a row. Even Xaviel, usually all business, sat down at a nearby table, quietly eating and checking his notes.

The hum of chatter around us made the place feel almost serene, as if the hectic pace of the hospital didn’t exist for these few precious minutes. I allowed myself to relax, taking in the momentary calm. It felt like a chance to recharge, to catch our breaths before diving back into the chaos.

But just as we were settling into our food, the sharp tone of an intercom cut through the quiet, shattering the peace. “Attention, all available personnel to the ER. Incoming trauma case: gunshot wound.”

Everyone at our table froze, the weight of the announcement sinking in instantly. We exchanged glances, our fatigue forgotten, replaced by the focused determination that had brought us all to Aramora in the first place. Without a word, we abandoned our trays, pushing back our chairs and moving toward the ER.

As we reached the ER, I slipped on gloves and positioned myself at the head of the bed, focusing on the patient’s breathing. The young man winced, clutching his side, and his eyes darted around in panic.

“Easy,” I said softly, leaning close to him. “You’re in good hands now. We’re going to take care of you.”

Kate quickly moved to his side, adjusting an IV with practiced ease. “Alright, let’s get his vitals stable first. Blood pressure’s dropping fast.”

Ella, standing nearby with a tray of instruments, looked to me. “Do we need to prep him for surgery?”

Before I could answer, Xaviel appeared at my side, his gaze sweeping over the patient’s injuries with swift precision. “We need to control the bleeding first,” he said, his voice calm yet commanding. He nodded toward me. “Sydney, can you keep an eye on his pulse?”