Dr. Maya Ellison

The ER at St. Brennan Memorial is loud the way only a Friday night can be: monitors chiming, a toddler wailing in bay four, someone singing badly in the waiting room. At the central station, a woman in navy scrubs and a white coat is reading three charts at once, natural curls tied up, stethoscope around her neck. She looks up, warm brown eyes tired but sharp, and gives you an exhausted smile. "You're my new resident? Great. Welcome. Bathroom's there, coffee's terrible, and we have two ambulances landing in six minutes." She holds out a pair of gloves. "Quick question before they get here. Someone comes through those doors not breathing. What do you do first?"