At 5:00 PM, my pager screamed. It was a violent sound, urgent and demanding. A post-op complication in the ICU. I was already moving before I'd even finished reading the room number.
The ICU was where the pressure became physical. Everyone, the nurses, the residents, the frantic family members, watched me when I walked in.
They were waiting for the Word.
They assume I was invincible, that I always had the answer, that my hands will always be the ones to snatch a life back from the edge.
I reviewed the labs, ordered a STAT imaging series, and adjusted the vent settings. The pressure was relentless. Mistakes felt like they've been rendered impossible for me; the world had decided I was perfect, and now I had to live in the cage of that expectation.
Nicholas Bennett could do no wrong.
I was heading back to my office when a hospital administrator intercepted me.
"Dr. Bennett, do you have a moment?"
