
Nancy felt like she was in a dream for a moment----a nightmare. She couldn't explain what snapped inside her, but she methodically grabbed tubing, IV solution, alcohol and needles from the cart. She wasn't frightened, her heart continued to pound, but now it was with excitement.
As she approached one of the burned and disfigured young men on a stretcher, his eyes held a look of panic she would never forget. She laid her hand on his chest and said, "I'm Nancy, a nurse, and I am going to take care of you. I have to start an IV in your arm or ankle so I can give you some medicine to make you more comfortable. I won't leave you alone."
He blinked his one eye that was not burned and tried to say something. She bent down near his face. The smell of burned skin and flesh was overpowering, but didn't bother her now. She focused on his face.
"Don't let me die. . . . . . ." He whispered, his throat so badly burned from the fire, the words were barely distinguishable.
"I promise," she said with all the confidence she could muster. "I promise. What is your name?"
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