Today's word is: Exutory!

               “There’s an exutory!”

               The room was silent save for the repetitive beep of a heart-monitor and the slow pushing wheeze of breathing apparatus. Light shone off of every surface, the scalpels and tongs and clamps of an E.R, but not a single orderly or nurse made a sound.

               “An exutory people! Get moving!” Doctor Hargreave said, a surgical knife in hand. The other doctors looked at each other, masks obscuring all but their eyes.

               “What… what do you mean?” Nurse Foreman whispered. She seemed loathe to break the silence.

               Hargreave lowered the knife, his eyes ablaze. “You know, now find out what it is!” Nurses and doctors alike peered at one another. Doctor Bisharpe shrugged at Nurse McDonald. Foreman returned with a large dusty book.

               Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.

               “You can’t bring that bloody thing in here!” Hargreave’s voice carried over the various machines. “You should know the term, Foreman. Can’t anyone just follow an instruction?!”

               “No one knows what the word is Hargreave!” Bisharpe to Hargreave, E-five. “You’re using a word no-one knows.”

               Beep beep beep. Beep.. beep.. beep.

               A bead of sweat trickled down Hargreave’s face before being stopped on its way down by his mask. “It’s an issue, ok?! An issue. A bloody issue in the stupid patient. Now find it!”

               And the room sprang into action.

“5 milligrams of rocephin!”

               “I need another blood-bag here!”

               “Why didn’t he just say there was an issue?!”

               Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep.

               “We don’t have time for this! Hand me a clean scalpel, he’s not breathing and we need to do a tracheostomy!”

               The room swirled with movement, clattering and shifting and making sure everything was set for the process. Still, no one could find the issue complicating an otherwise easy procedure.

               Bisharpe spun around, watching the patients sats sink like a brick through a lake. “Is there something in his lungs, Hargreave?”

               But there was no response.

               “He’s frozen!” Foreman cried. Hargreave had stopped everything, his eyes down on the boy with a new hole in his throat. “Get him out of here!

               Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-