It’s 2:00 a.m., and the emergency department has finally slipped into that uneasy lull between the drunks and the dawn. Your coffee has gone cold, your feet ache, and the fluorescent lights hum overhead like they’re mocking you. Then the ambulance bay doors bang open. A stretcher rattles in fast, one wheel squeaking, and a young man is on it, drenched and rigid, both hands pressed hard against his chest and his head.