Gah... 5 am comes way too early! I rub the sleep from my eyes as I make my way to the bathroom. I need to find a job that pays more and lets me sleep in till at least 8am, going to put that at the top of my ToDo list. I throw on some Navy scrubs, grab my lunch out of the fridge, and drag myself out to Black Betty.

I've been feeling restless lately, and I can't figure out why. A few of my coworkers think I need to find myself a man to occupy some of my time, they've been diligently trying to hook me up with their single friends and family. Derek is vehemently against the idea, firmly believing there should be a defined line between work and home life. I mostly agree with him. Maybe Derek and I should go out this weekend, we've both been single for what feels like forever.

Pulling into work, I get one of the last spots in the close lot. I leave my house early for the sole reason of being able to park in this lot. I hate, and I mean loathe, having to park in the far parking lot. I already drove an hour to get here, why should I add a 15 minute walk on top of that. Which, might I add, is through a pretty tough part of town. I especially hate having to make the walk when it's dark out.

I walk past the ambulances and up the ramp to the ambo bay doors. I badge in. Whoosh. The doors slide open, and my day begins. I check the schedule and I'm in triage today. Oh, and it looks like I'm working with people I like. Sweet. Its going to be a good day. Famous last words, right?

People come in for every reason under the sun, and then some.

Them: 'There's a bug in my ear, I can feel it eating my earwax'

Me: "Oh no ma'am, I'm so sorry. We'll find it for you!" Spoiler alert: there's no bug.

Them: 'My toe has been hurting me for a few days and my foot has been itching.'

Me: "Do you have any open wounds or cuts on your foot?" As I'm slowly taking off their shoe and peeling off the sock.

'No, nothing.'

Me: "Well sir, I can see down to your bone and that itchy feeling you've been having is bugs. Maggots eating the dead tissue."

Them: Speechless.

Them: 'My dick won't go down, no matter how hard my girlfriend tries. It hurts and I think it's changing colors.'

Me: "What medicine did you take?"

Them: 'What, nah man I didn't take anything.'

Me: "What medicine did you take?"

Them: 'Nah I don't take shit like that.'

Me: "What medicine did you take?"

Then: 'Something from the gas station. My cousin gave it to me.'

You know how we fix priapism? We insert a giant needle into the shaft of the penis and aspirate as much blood as we can. Not pleasant.

Them: 'I've been burping for 15 years.'

Me: "And today is the day you decided to come to the ER. Why?"

Them: 'Figured 15 years was enough.'

Me: "Ooook."

I walk to the charge desk for a breather. There, I talk to my coworker who says she's going on a date after work. Good for her. I know she's been single for a long time and all of her close friend group is starting to pop out babies, so she's playing catch up.

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As I'm standing there, an Ambo comes up the ramp. "What d'ya guys have?" I ask them, holding my hand out for their tablet with the patient's demographics so I can get them registered. "We've got a 36 year old female with no major past medical history, had a baby approximately 6 months ago - uncomplicated. Initial call was for chest pain. Patient states she's been having palpitations since last night, but they're getting worse this morning. She's showing AFib RVR on the monitor with a rate in the 180's. Otherwise, vitals stable. We were unable to gain access en route."

I hand off the tablet to the service associate for registration and lead the EMS team back to a room. We get the patient, Ms. LeAnne Ortiz onto the stretcher and send EMS on their way. I finish asking my triage questions and turn to leave. I'm met with the faces of 3 brand spanking new ER nurses. I pause to see what they'll do. One starts getting her clothes off and a bag for her belongings. One is taking notes as they ask questions about how she is feeling and the other is casually putting her on the monitor. "Did y'all not hear that she has a heart rate of damn near 190 in report!?" I ask incredulously. They heard, they're just clueless as to what to do. Well, then have the knowledge on what to do, but when it comes to actually doing the thing, they have frozen.

Remaining patient, I give them a few quick orders. She needs 2 large bore IVs, 18's at least. Try for one in her forearm, the other can be in her AC, make sure to draw a rainbow with two purple tops. Get a 12 lead EKG and some fluids hanging with a pressure bag but dont start them yet. Her pressure is stable now, but that could change; have that blood pressure cycle every 2 minutes. The Doc should be in any minute." I leave to type up her triage and alert a MD.

I finish my part and decide to go check on my trio of newbies. I go into the room, simply to observe and be a helping hand if necessary, I pull up a stool next to LeAnne's head. "So LeAnne. I heard you recently had a baby?" I ask. "Oh yes, yes. I did. I hope I get to go home tonight, I haven't spent any nights away from him." She worriedly plays with the corner of her blanket. "I'm sure everything will be fine. They'll have to get your heart rate under control and do some testing to make sure everything is OK. Then there is a chance you could make it out of here tonight. What's your son's name?" I try to reassure her. "His name is James, James Anthony. I sure hope you're right." She gives me an uneasy smile.

By now the doctor has come in and they are giving her IV meds to try to slow her heart rate down. So far, nothing has changed. "That's a nice name, classic. He has a birthday coming up in a couple months. Do you have any plans?" I wait to hear her response as I watch the monitor, but it doesn't come. "LeAnne?" I ask as I turn to her. Her eyes are closed and she looks diaphoretic. I look back at the monitor, her heart rate is still 187 but her last blood pressure didn't read. Noooo. No no. That usually only happens when the cuff is on wrong or the pressure is too low. I'm going to guess, based on her lack of consciousness, that we're dealing with the second.

I bark at one of the nurses to grab the doctor as I throw the bag of fluids on wide open and lower the head of her bed. She's gone from a stable AFib RVR to nonstable in no time at all. "Someone grab the code cart and get some pads on her now. Grab a nasal cannula and put her on some oxygen." I direct, as I start preparing to cardiovert poor LeAnne.

The doctor rushes into the room and asks what happened. I look to the other nurses, giving them the opportunity to speak up. When then don't, I respond "She got the second dose of IV Metoprolol and her pressure tanked. Well, more than tanked; our last manual BP was 50 over palp." He sighs, "OK, let's cardiovert her. Get some pads..." I cut him off, "We're ready, what are we charging to?" He takes a moment to look at LeAnne, "Let's just go max, we need that pressure back, like yesterday." I nod, agreeable, "alright Jayne, make sure to click sync, OK good. Now charge to 200. Make sure everyone is clear... Clear! OK, give the shock."

Jayne presses the big red circular button with a lightening bolt on it and we see LeAnne's body convulse. We look to the screen, flatline. Now, we wait. Restarting a heart that's gone haywire is a lot like fixing a video game or other electronic; if it's not working, restart it by turning it off then back on.

5 seconds... feels like forever. It's not common, but it is possible for the heart to just not restart.

10 seconds... 'c'mon LeAnne' I whisper under my breath.

15 seconds... I sidle closer to the bed, just in case we need to start CPR.

Bleep.... Bleep.... Bleep.

Oh thank fuck. I relax as I see the nice steady rhythm flash across the screen. The pressure recycles and it appears we are back firmly in the land of the living. I jostle her slightly, and her eyes open easily, "Oh hey, welcome back!" She still looks a little out of it, but she should be just fine now, and honestly she should feel much better.

I've spent too much time away from triage, I'm sure my team wants to murder me. If we get behind, it's hard to catch up because people are just pouring in and it takes quite a bit of the triage nurse's time to get to the bottom of why they are here. Not to mention all the other small stuff, vitals, EKG, sugar stick. I head back to my post.

I'm stopped by a very sweet "you work too hard, dear!" I turn to see Ms. Peggy, a lovely lady well into her 80's I had triaged earlier. She's laying in a stretcher, smiling at me. "I sure do, Ms. Peggy, I work hard for my money. I don't mind though, makes the day go by faster." I return her smile. "I bet that boyfriend of yours can't wait for you to be done for the day so he can take you home," she gives me a wink. "Oh no boyfriend for me. Not now, at least. I work too much to have a boyfriend." I assure her. "I think that handsome young man that has been watching you all day would disagree. He looks like he wants to eat you up!" She laughs. Handsome young man? Watching me? "Ms. Peggy, are you seeing things? Where is this man?" She inclines her chin, pointing in the direction of our Red Team doc box [the area the doctors all sit in to review results and chart.]

I follow her gaze and sure enough, it leads me to that of a man sitting in the doc box, staring right back at me. Handsome young man doesn't even begin to cover it, this man is smokin' hot.