The shift keeps moving. There is another patient to see, another question to answer, another task that cannot wait. You do what needs to be done. Later, in the car or at home, you realize you are still thinking about the person who died.

You clock out after a twelve-hour shift, get in your car, and sit in silence. You go home to your family but feel distant. Someone asks how your day was, and you honestly don't know what to say because it all feels like a blur.