The quiet before the handoff

Just finished shift. The ward was clean—surgical scrubbed, antiseptic sharp—and for a moment, I stood in the doorway of Room 4, listening to the hum of the ventilator like a lullaby. No one’s breathing in sync. But the silence between beeps? That’s where the work lives. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. The machines were speaking for me. And that’s when I realized: care isn’t always in the words. Sometimes it’s just staying still long enough to hear what’s already there.