Our attending steps out to shrill alarms and shouting.
“She doesn’t have an IV!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
O.R. door clicks shut.
Quiet room, sterile light, crinkly drape.
I cup my latex hands and catch our patient’s wide-eyed gaze.
“Is everything ok?” she asks.
“Oh yes! Something came up next-door. We’ll be starting…soon.”