flatline [m.s]

cxlvii.

- - -
they hit you out of nowhere. when bad things come, they come suddenly, without warning. we rarely get to see the catastrophe coming, no matter how well we try to prepare for it.
- - -

"this storm will bring in a lot of casualties. we're gonna need to make room for them, so let's discharge all patients that can be," owen prepares the doctors and nurses gathered in the lobby from where he stands on the main staircase. "post-op and long-term patients are gonna be transferred to seattle pres further in we're gonna bring in supplementals- water, food, meds, lighting. uh, we're gonna be checking and refuelling the backup generators. as for you surgeons, push, postpone, or cancel all elective procedures until after this storm."

"so we're cancelling surgeries now?" lia turns to mark as owen continues his speech.

"well, you can afford to slow down a little bit," mark raises his brow.

"i'm pregnant. i'm not sick," lia shrugs.

"you're very pregnant. you're three weeks away from your due date," he reminds her, and she rolls her eyes.

"most importantly, we're gonna need to print hard copies of all computerised patient charts in case of a power loss," owen informs them all.

"all of them?" jackson raises his brow. "do we have time to-"

"i'll do that," bailey cuts him off, and owen nods.

"folks, they're saying that this is going to be a bad one, but we have three days to prepare," owen assures. "so let's do it and be ready for when the storm hits. thank you."

- - -
we do our very best, but sometimes, it's just not good enough. we buckle our seat belts, we wear a helmet, we stick to the lighted paths. we try to be safe.
- - -

"clear the hallways for cots. people will come looking for shelter," april warns steph as she follows her out onto the ambulance bay, clutching a clipboard.

"how bad is this supposed to be?" steph asks her.

"hope for the best, prepare for the worst, right?" april shrugs before addressing the paramedics. "what do we got?"

"thirty nine year old construction worker. wind blew him off a building," the paramedic informs her, and april's eyes widen, slightly,  when her eyes fall on the patient. "fell four stories to impale himself on three bars of standing rebar. vitals are stable. minimal blood loss on the scene. maintaining airway."

"okay," april nods. "let's go."

"let his name be bob," steph murmurs to herself as they begin pushing the gurney into the hospital. "please let his name be bob."

"why?" april furrows her brow.

"shishka-bob," steph says as though it's obvious, and april shoots her a look.

"my name's leon," the patient reveals.

"the patient's awake and responsive," the paramedic scolds.

"oh, my god. i'm so sorry," steph apologises and april looks at her with disbelief.

"it's bad, huh?" leon asks. "this is really bad? am i gonna die?"