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I spent six straight hours on my feet, moving from room to room, charting vitals, checking IVs, holding the hands of crying patients, calling families, and responding to impatient doctors. There wasn’t a single moment to breathe.
By the time I reached the cafeteria, it was past 2 p.m. My legs were sore, my scrubs were damp at the back from sweat, and I was pretty sure I had someone’s blood on my left shoe.
I pulled out the sandwich Alice had packed for me that morning.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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