#coma ward

In a nutshell you're a doctor on the coma ward!  And it is busy.  There are nurses running around the place, janitors janitoring and visiting families in your way.  You have to try and keep as many people alive as possible by monitoring and assessing their needs.  But you also have to make sure you don't burn yourself out.  

There was something very stark and cold about the room. Most people visiting a hospital at least tried to pretend that they still had hope; most rooms were strewn with flowers in colorful vases, or "Get Well Soon!" cards, or music brought from home, and it wasn't at all uncommon to find a loved on sitting by  the side of the patient. Not here. The room was so clean, white, and sterile that most people would simply glance in and assume it was unoccupied. Most people didn't even notice the woman, the sole occupant, laying in her bed, pale as the sheets she was on, surrounded by tubes and machines. Even her hair, the only real spot of color  in the room, was hidden, tucked down behind her neck to keep it from getting tangled in the life support tubes.

A few months ago, the curtains around her bed and on the windows had remained shut, the door locked to keep out the nosy reporters who managed to track her here. But time passed, the reporters lost interest, and any special precautions faded soon after. The curtains were open, the door was unlocked, and still the room remained empty.