If you were to look at my job description, you'd see that I'm supposed to be able to handle tense, horrible situations at a moments notice, take charge, and heal with the best of them. That listing might seem adventurous and exciting, but if you look at the reality of what I do on a day to day basis, you'd be disappointed. Often I'm slacking off in the Med Room, drawing these pictures, working on stories, or reading the paper. My partners are no better...as I'm drawing this, Steve is asleep and Holly is tuning her guitar. Occasionally, my boss will erupt into the room and yell at us for being schlubs, then take a seat and yell at me for sniping him in Call of Duty when he was planting the bomb.

However loose we might get, though, there's always an undercurrent. It's akin to dread, or anxiousness and worry. It's the knowledge that something, eventually, will happen, and we'll have to snap to it and go help. It might be a band-aid...it might be something far worse. In the end, that's all we end up doing. Besides tuning the guitar, besides setting a world record in Free Cell...we're just...waiting.