She screams again. Each time the shrill reaches further, deeper. His heart rate
soars. Panic is not something he is used to. Everything he tries falls short.  
Help must be coming he thinks to himself.                                      
                                                                               
"I'm picking up stress," says a nurse sternly. She is looking at him. He knows 
it. He dare not look back; she would see the panic in his eyes. Instead he     
gazes at the monitor, which begins to crescendo.                               
                                                                               
"Oh God! It hurts! Give me something! Do something!" the patient screams again.
She flings her arms grasping at anything within reach.                         
                                                                               
"Doctor?" says the nurse. She has fifteen years on him. She knows what to do,  
but it is not her call.                                                        
                                                                               
An education is not complete until all experiences have been accounted for. The
intern knows he is defeated. This is something that requires instinct and      
reaction. He has gotten through life so far on cold, deliberate intellect.     
"Page the Chief again," he offers, feebly. It is all he can muster.            
                                                                               
The patient screams in agony. "We've got tach," says another nurse. Too much is
happening too fast.                                                            
                                                                               
The trauma doors swing open. "What have we got?" asks the Chief. The nurse     
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