Forged Consent at 2 AM

I watched my attending forge a patient's consent form at 2 AM. The pen scratched

against paper like nails on a chalkboard, each stroke burying us deeper. The patient was

unconscious, family unreachable, and the surgery could save her life or end my career

before it started. My hands trembled as I held the chart, sweat pooling under my scrubs.

He looked at me with eyes like steel and said if I reported him, she'd die waiting

for proper authorization. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like a swarm of angry wasps.

I had thirty seconds to decide. I handed him the chart. She lived.

I haven't slept since. Would you have done the same?