. . . a ceaseless flow of students, nurses, doctors, orderlies: fetching and carrying, advising; servants to the patient and their attendant team.
Half a dozen medical students have spent the night in the Emergency Department, as the first flight from Bali brings in a dozen or so patients at 2 am. Twenty-six hours earlier, bombs destroyed two nightclubs packed with tourists and local residents at Kuta Beach, Bali.1 Most of the first casualties to arrive are able to walk and, although their injuries are severe, they are soon ministered to in Area 3 (the “walking wounded”) and sent off to the ward. At 5 am, as the first shift of students retires to sleep, the next batch arrives: six 3rd years (of which I am one), Matthias from Switzerland and a couple of 4th years.
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