It was minutes before clocking out the day before our Thanksgiving holiday at the Outpatient Surgery Center at Jameson Crane. Here, we provide care for healthy, adult patients with orthopedic injuries.

One of our nurses was wheeling out the last patient of the day, an ACL injury. While in the discharge hallway, she heard what she described as hysterical, blood-curdling screaming coming from somewhere in the building. She rushed back to the nurse's station to alert us of an unknown, yet foreboding event. At the time, we were uncertain if it was even medical-related, maybe gunshots, a fight, or a fire, but all the staff jumped into action without hesitation.

One grabbed the crash cart, and one dialed the anesthesiologist on call at the facility, with a vague but urgent plea: "Something is going down, and we think we're going to need extra hands." As we dashed down the hallway, we eliminated the screams from coming from the discharge suite, the MRI suite, and the bathrooms. As we drew nearer, we realized they were coming from the front lobby. All we could see were tiny little legs on the lobby floor. Crouched over the legs was a desperate woman, presumably the mother, panicked over her seven-year-old daughter's convulsing body.

All the staff jumped into action. One dialed 911 and ran to get gloves and extra supplies. The crash cart was ripped open, pads ready to be placed, and the AED turned on. When the convulsing slowed, her lifeless body lay on the cold floor. One nurse checked for breathing and a pulse (both present), and another had already assisted the girl to her side and set a timer, worried that a seizure might be occurring.

One staff member grabbed a gurney to transfer the young girl to. Another person rapidly grabbed the Accu-Check machine to check their blood sugar. Someone even thoughtfully removed their scrub jacket and folded it neatly under the girl's head to protect her from the frigid lobby floor. One nurse consoled the grieving mom by holding her shoulder tight while another reassured the mom, saying, "You did the right thing. You're doing a great job." At one point, someone realized we had left our ACL patient in the hallway, and another confirmed that she had safely wheeled her out of the building to her discharge ride.

By the time the ambulance arrived, the staff transferred the girl's small, limp body to the gurney. The mom was still wailing and completely terrified. Someone helped her by calling a relative to assist her at the scene and coordinate care for her other children who were needing picked up at the daycare across the street.

In a time when staff were getting ready to clock out and beginning to think about preparing their Thanksgiving turkeys, they had no preparation for a pediatric event like this. Nobody learns in orientation at JCSMI what to do if someone brings an unresponsive child into our doors from literally off the street outside. The swift action of these staff members in responding to this unprecedented scene, with quick thinking, organization, compassion, empathy, professionalism, and teamwork, was nothing short of heroic.