Chaos in the Supply Closet

I walked in on my attending kissing the charge nurse in the supply closet, the same nurse who's

married to the surgeon I've been secretly seeing for three months. My patient in bed

seven just coded while I stood there frozen, realizing the defibrillator paddles in my hands

were the only honest thing in this entire hospital. We saved him, but I couldn't save

myself from the truth. Everyone's sleeping with everyone, and somehow we're

still expected to save lives like we have our own together. The real emergency

isn't in the trauma bay. It's the fact that we're all one scandal away from losing

everything, yet we show up every single shift. How do you compartmentalize chaos when you are