I've had a fat share of trips to trauma centers: I always start looking for the humor, because it helps.
While being wheeled from the ER to a burn ward 40 years ago, I looked around at my sobbing mother, my solemn father, my appalled siblings trying not to gag at the smell of burnt flesh, and said, "I suppose you wonder why I called you all here."
Of course, I was high as a kite on morphine--but my brother laughed, so I could, too.
Later, when the black nurse came to change my sheets (they used plastic hoops to keep the top sheet off of me), she asked if I could get out of bed: "For you, sweet lips, anything," I replied.
She rolled her eyes: "You white boys just love to parade around nekkid in front of a black woman!" It hurt like hell to get out of that bed and stretch my burns, but I managed it smiling.
I loved that nurse. Amidst all the gloomy pusses, she was the best part of every day.
Dost thou prate, rogue?
-Cassio
Real things always push back.
-William James