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My parents have an 8 – 7 job as doctors. Lastly, just the other week in my new job on intensive care, I’m looking after a post-op guy and thought “well he looks crap” but again everything was ok about this man. There was no reason to think anything, and one of my colleagues said: “he’s been that color since he got here”. Well, an hour into my shift there’s blood everywhere, surgeons were up stitching his insides up on the bed where he was instead of theatre and major hemorrhage protocol was activated. We had a typical, two-story rectangular house and my bedroom was right above the living room, with the stairs leading down to the front door. One night in my pre-teens, I was awoken by my parents’ voices coming from the living room. They were arguing.
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