We sit silently on this precipice—my family, my friends, my colleagues.  Time spins. Momentum is building.  It is a tidal wave slowly moving towards us.  We are fixed in its path of raging destruction.  It is our enemy, not each other.  Each tick on the clock, an ICU bed filling across the West—an exponential net positive, admissions to discharges—true or celestial.  Yet, still the world turns, blissful unawareness in our ...

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