Night shift

A good night

5 a.m., the roof of the Diagnostic Center going pink.

Nothing happened, only small things: a boy who swallowed a coin (he is fine, the coin is in the bag, he wants it back), a woman with a fainting from the heat, a driver with his finger in a car door, three high fevers. All the good things in medicine are small ones. Nobody writes about them.

At 5 the sun came over the roof of the Diagnostic Center and everything was pink for ten minutes, even the ambulance.