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•LATE NIGHTS•
Monday, June 7th, 2010 . . . 11:59 P.M.
Trauma . . . it's a deeply distressing or disturbing experience. It's the kind of thing that sticks with you, plaguing your conscience for days, weeks, even years after the catastrophic event. It's something not easily forgotten, something Genevieve Lasker will find herself coming back to for the next few years . . .
"—Alright, thanks. We'll be ready . . . Paramedics say we've got a critical patient. Five minutes out—" Owen Hunt relayed when he hung up the ER's landline.
After he spoke, a few nurses and Doctors glanced towards him, acknowledging what he had told them. They all seemed to share the same thought.
It was the start of a busy night . . .
"Will you go ahead and page the on-call trauma team?" Owen requested, looking towards the ER nurse stationed behind the hectic desk.
The woman nodded, already reaching towards the phone stationed on the desk, ready to page the appropriate list of on-call doctors. "Of course, right away Dr. Hunt," she responded, going through the list quickly.
"Trauma One," Owen informed, sharing the preferred preference considering the slow nature in the ER at the moment.
The nurse nodded, silently acknowledging his request before the two shifted their attention away from each other.
