#4

From my "Life in America" series: a terribly sad edition.

6:37 in the morning. I parked where I always park at the employee parking lot. I'm heading to the hospital kind of in a rush, as it's a little droopy and it's cold. I'm thinking about this being the last day of my life in a hospital as a student of nursing. Last day of practice. When I return to the hospital in a few months' time, I will be a fully-licensed nurse. Maybe it would be nice to take a group photo at the end of the day and share something on Facebook?

And then suddenly I hear a shot. Then the second, third, fourth, fifth in a series. I look around, no one else panics, but I throw myself into a building with maybe 20 steps left. Did I hear something? Am I over-sensitive?

A few minutes later, it turns out I didn't overhear it. A hospital employee was murdered by her partner. A guard was also murdered. Then the shooter himself ran away and committed suicide.

I can't describe the emotions that accompanied us that day. And the chaos that overwhelmed the hospital. Many patients quickly found out what had happened, because the local TV station organized few broadcasts before the hospital authorities were able to make any statements.

I don't know how to end this argument. I was scared and so sad. A woman lost her life to her partner. A bodyguard was also killed. Now I know I won't forget my last day of practice, but maybe not for the right reasons.