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the ICU because of his lethally high blood pressure.  Framed by the light from the hallway, Mulhaney appeared to be a sort of prehistoric arachnid, his limbs suspended around him as if he was caught in a web of his own construction.  Jose wondered if the man’s family was waiting somewhere in the building or if they’d relented and gone home after a full day of weeping and praying.  He envisioned the man’s small children climbing over waiting room furniture, no longer satisfied with broken crayons and daytime TV, unable to comprehend just what ‘critical condition’ really meant.
    Jose left the second patient’s room more confused than when he entered, and after confirming he hadn’t been seen, made his way through the double doors and into the elevator which delivered him to the emergency room where he was expected for work.  The glaring brightness and cacophony of the ER was a stark contrast to the intensive care unit on the second floor.  Vanessa, the head nurse, spotted him cutting through triage on the way to the break room and stopped him before he even had a chance to drop off his bag.
    “Have you clocked in?” she called, pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair through the waiting room.
    “I was just on my way,” he replied, motioning toward the door.
    She shook her head.  “I’ll have Gloria swipe your card.  I need you to take Mr. Fletcher here to the restroom to get washed up.  It seems he’s had a bit of an accident.”
    The stench coming from the man indicated what kind of accident he’d had and it wasn’t the type which involved a motor vehicle.  Although he initially balked, Jose quickly remembered his job as an orderly was a means to an end.  Changing the old man’s pants now was the only way he would have access to the others later, so with that in mind, he left his bag behind the triage desk and hurried Mr. Fletcher to an unoccupied restroom.
    He cleaned the man quickly and proficiently, redressing him in a pair of standard issue scrubs while avoiding both eye contact and small talk.  When he began working as an orderly right after high school, tasks involving human waste often made him consider other career options, but six years later, he knew he could never leave.  The access it gave him to complete his life’s work was unsurpassed, so he quickly learned to overcome his squeamish tendencies.
    After returning Mr. Fletcher to his wife in the waiting room, he was immediately called to help restrain a new arrival who was hopped up on hallucinogens and threatening to tear an examination room apart.
    “He thinks we’re trying to kill him,” one of the shift nurses told him.  “And he’s seriously strong, so be careful.  Dr. Unger’s already in there and has been calling for back up, but I didn’t know where you were.”
    Without the slightest hesitation, Jose hurried past the support rooms toward the treatment area where he heard the man screaming obscenities and threatening the staff.  The room’s door was no longer closed for privacy and exposed the scene inside as he approached.
    “Listen, Kirk, no one is trying to hurt you,” Unger was telling the patient when Jose rushed up behind him.  “Just set down the scissors so we can find out what’s really going on.”
    Kirk, a formidable looking teenager, stood against the far wall wielding a pair of surgical scissors he’d obviously scavenged from a drawer somewhere in the room.  The terror in his eyes convinced Jose the kid truly believed his evasive actions against hospital personnel were necessary for his survival and that there would be no reasoning with him.  Mascara stained the cheeks of a pretty brunette pleading quietly from the corner of the room for him to stop, while Vanessa and Gloria stood behind Unger, positioned to flee if necessary.
    “Come on, baby.  Just chill out, okay?  Please?” the brunette begged.  “Let’s just forget any of this ever happened and I’ll just take you