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In that moment, I knew that my life had ended. My hands turned to ice and began to tremble as I desperately gasped for air. I could feel the sweat trickle down the back of my neck as my temperature spiked skyward and I could hear the roar of my own pulse pounding like the bass beat of a heavy metal band. Overwhelmed by shock and the odor of antiseptic, I collapsed to the floor in a crumpled heap. And as the world went black around me, silently I prayed for death.

The chaplain moved swiftly down the corridor in determined motion towards the barefoot blonde. As he drew closer, he watched all color drain from the woman’s face and he couldn’t help but think that her obvious pain seemed to mesh perfectly with the cold stark January day. Her knees became unsteady and she fell to the floor like an abandoned rag doll. Having arrived by her side too late to soften her landing, the chaplain knelt and took the only action he knew to take; silently he began to pray for healing.