The ER feels like a sweltering sauna, the air conditioning having given up somewhere around hour ten of your twelve-hour shift. Your feet ache, and you wearily scarf down the last bite of a stale granola bar, imploring the clock to tick faster. A nurse hands you the next chart. “Arthur, 52 years old,” she says brusquely. “Triage says he has a burning rash and a high fever.” You rub your tired eyes and head toward his bay.