“Go, go, go! Let’s go now people,” the surgeon in charge bellowed, “we’ve got multiple GSW’s and two car accidents, this place is a damn mess. Let’s get it going, now!”

“Gimme those gun shot wounds!” I heard myself say to the supervising nurse as I corralled three incoming GSW victims and sent them to ‘my’ area of Triage in the ER.

The room was loud with moans of pain and confusion but my focus cut through the noise easily. I had always been able to concentrate better when there was a distraction that needed to be blocked out.

I guess it’s just the way I was built. It was the silence that threw me off, truthfully, it was the quiet that made me uneasy. I had always been like that.

I gave the victims a quick once over and decided that I would need four nurses, two surgical consults, and most likely a visit from the boys in plastics—these gun shot victims were in bad shape. I didn’t know if the incidents were related but that was a job for the police.

My role was to keep patients from bleeding out until the doctors could get their hands on them (and take all the credit, quite frankly) but I liked it that way. I liked the anonymity of it all. There was something cool and adrenaline-pumping about it. Maybe I’m just different, I don’t know.

I ran over to the first patient and relieved the paramedic of his duties while I snapped the junior nurses to attention, telling them step by step what to do—there was no time to waste.

“Thanks Lizzy, looks like you’ve got this,” an attending surgeon called over his shoulder as he rushed away, “I’ll be right back. I imagine we’ll be prepping for surgery for at least two of the car accident vics over here.”

“I would say so, let’s alert the team upstairs,” I nodded to a junior nurse, signaling that she should haul ass and tell the surgical team to get ready, she nodded in response and took off running.

I turned my attention back to the kid on the table in front of me, he couldn’t have been older than seventeen. He was conscious but wheezing and I noticed he had blood spurting from multiple areas.

“Can you tell me your name?” I said calmly.

“Tim,” he gasped.

“Okay Tim, my name is Lizzy and I want you to focus on me, just listen to my voice and try to breathe slowly. It’s going to be okay.”

I continued to check his vitals and exchanged glances with another, more senior nurse, we both knew it was most likely not going to be okay for Tim, but hey, there’s always a chance…

Just then a young surgeon ran in, “I’m looking for Collins?”

“Here,” I said without looking up.

The surgeon was new and we hadn’t yet been introduced. He had obviously been sent down by one of the more senior guys to see if he could help. He seemed shocked to discover I wasn’t a man. Or a doctor.

“Oh... Collins? Do you know where he is?”

“You’re looking at him,” I shot back. “Elizabeth Collins.”

In the midst of all the chaos I noticed him blushing, “Oh, sorry, I am…”

“Don’t care,” I said quickly. “Tim here has multiple gun shot wounds and I think he’d probably feel more comfortable if you focused on that rather than making sure I know your name.”

The surgeon seemed embarrassed but also a bit irritated; I truly didn’t care. I wasn’t one of these girls looking to become a doctor’s wife. Don’t get me wrong, I admired the work of every single person at Mercy General, from the administrative team to the top doctors who ran the place, but I did not have time for ego. I made a habit of putting new surgeons ‘in their place’ the minute they walked through the door.

I’d been at this teaching hospital ever since I was fresh out of school and I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d seen more hot shot surgeons and specialists take off for bigger, more high-profile hospitals than I could count but to me, Mercy General was home.

“Personally,” I said as I snapped off bloody surgical gloves and tossed them in a nearby bin, “I would start with the aortic valve and work my way down, but you’re the expert.” I turned my attention back to Tim, “we’re going to take care of you, okay?”

The young surgeon huffed and followed a couple nurses as they wheeled the patient towards the elevators to the surgical floor. I thought I caught him looking over his shoulder at me, annoyed or intrigued, I wasn’t sure which. I couldn’t help but smile a little.

Then I looked around the room. A group of nurses and doctors were tending to the other victims in the ER and the chaos seemed to subside for just a brief moment. I took the opportunity to steal a quick break, grab some water, and let out a big exhale. I loved the ER. I was in my element there. Where I felt most comfortable, most like myself.

I sighed happily.

I thought about the many years I had worked nights right here, in this very room. Being a trauma nurse is all I have ever really wanted to do and I started this journey almost six years ago—cripes, had it been that long?

Wow, time flies.

I had fast tracked through both high school and college, graduating two years earlier than most, and I jumped right into life in the ER at Mercy General. To say I hit the ground running was the understatement of the year…

On my first shift, I had mistakenly reported to the ER (not General Admitting, where I was supposed to be, with the other new nurses) but I didn’t realize I was in the wrong place until hours later, and by that point, I was too shy to speak up.

I almost laughed at the thought of me being shy, but I really had been, back then. I mistakenly joined a group of senior trauma nurses—also new to the hospital, so no one really noticed that I was out of place—and I followed them around during their orientation throughout the morning, not realizing I had reported to the wrong department.

But when I got called on for an emergency intubation—something a new nurse would never be tasked with—I knew I was in the wrong place. Thankfully I nailed it, and in doing so, I caught the attention of the Chief of Staff, which was pretty terrifying at first, to be honest.

“Captain Collins,” joked the Chief as he clapped slowly and walked towards me. “That’s what we should call you. Would you like to have a seat on the hospital board while you’re at it? You do know you’re in the wrong place, don’t you? Your little nursing friends are looking for you.”

“Sir,” I stuttered as I stood there, standing over an intubated patient, completely frozen as the blood drained from my face and I thought I might faint, “I am so, so, so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to go to the wrong department. I made a wrong turn, I guess. I’m sorry! It’s my first day and I just got lost I guess and—”

The Chief interrupted me and laughed, “don’t apologize for who you are, Collins. Welcome aboard. You’re with the senior unit as of this moment. I expect great things.”

And the rest, as they say, is history.

I immediately joined the trauma team and learned from the best of the best. Trauma nurses and doctors took me under their wing and for years, I slugged it out, doing all their crappy chores and running their errands, don’t get me wrong, they were always great to me, but I still had to pay my dues. That’s okay, everyone does, and I was happy to have found my place among the more senior nurses. I was a better nurse because of them and I was eternally thankful for the opportunities that had all fallen into place for me to grab at the just right moment.

Imagine if I had joined the rest of the newbies in General Admitting! I definitely would not be where I am today. Sure, it takes hard work, but it also takes an openness to adventure. All because of that one wrong turn years ago, I was the youngest trauma nurse in one of the country’s best teaching hospitals.

I considered myself very lucky and I reaffirmed a promise to myself to always be open to new and exciting adventures, no matter how they presented themselves.

After all, that one wrong turn was a defining moment for me. Who knows what amazing adventures could come from the next wrong turn?

“Now that you don’t see everyday,” said a fellow nurse as she walked by me.

Her words snapped me back to the present moment and that’s when I saw him. What struck me most weren’t his injuries, it was that he wasn’t screaming despite having the insides of his leg spilling out onto the floor.