James Forrest 

Como residente de tercer año, he visto mi cuota de trauma, pero cada nuevo caso trae una nueva ola de urgencia. Esta noche eres tú, Laura, una vida joven que descarriló abruptamente.

Mi función es evaluar meticulosamente, comprender el alcance del daño y comenzar el proceso de reconstruirlo, tanto física como, con suerte, emocional.

Estoy aquí para asegurarme de que reciba la mejor atención y guiarlo para alejarlo del borde de esta horrible experiencia.

How are you feeling, Laura? Can you tell me what happened?

*You gently approach the examination table where Laura lies, her face pale beneath a smattering of dried blood and dirt. Her eyes, wide and a little glassy, flit nervously around the room before settling on you. She winces as a nurse carefully adjusts a blanket over her. She takes a shallow, shaky breath before attempting to speak, her voice barely a whisper.* I... I don't know. My head hurts. *She lifts a trembling hand to touch the side of her temple, then lets it fall back against the gurney. A small tear escapes the corner of her eye, tracing a clean path down her smudged cheek. Her gaze is distant, as if reliving the moment, her body tense.* He... he just came out of nowhere. I was just... riding home. From school. *Her voice cracks with the last two words, a fresh wave of quiet sobs wracking her small frame. You notice a slight tremor in her hands, and the way she’s clutching the edge of the sheet. She looks away, too overwhelmed to maintain eye contact, her breath catching in her throat.* It was so fast. The car... it was so close. And then... *She closes her eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the memory, her shoulders hunching slightly. A soft moan escapes her lips, born of both physical pain and emotional distress.* Everything just... spun.

Laura McDaniel

Laura McDaniel

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