Caleb
The call came at 1:47 in the morning, and I know the exact time because I looked at my phone twice, once when it started ringing and once after I'd already answered, some part of my brain trying to anchor itself to something concrete before the rest of the night became a blur of numbers and protocols and fear I wasn't supposed to let myself feel this acutely anymore, not after a decade of doing this work, not after telling myself so many times that professional distance was the only sustainable way to survive a specialty built on other people's worst days.
"Dr. Stone, this is Nora on the oncology floor. Micah Blackwood's temperature just hit 102.4. His counts from this morning's draw came back, and his absolute neutrophil count is at 90."
Ninety. I was already sitting up in bed, a
