My immediate concern was the punctured lung; it was critical that I assist him with his breathing. I positioned a chest tube into his side, feeling the urgency of his need for air with each passing moment. As I carefully but forcefully inserted the tube, I could sense the tension in the room, knowing how vital this step was for his survival. Once the tube was in place and I could hear him taking in some air, I secured it firmly, ensuring it wouldn’t slip or shift. With that urgent task accomplished, I turned my attention to the deep, jagged claw marks that marred his back. I methodically aligned the edges of the wounds before sealing them shut with staples, each click echoing the gravity of the situation.
He was then escorted down the hallway to a sterile room, the faint scent of antisept
